No hit was difficult for Scorcher, especially the one you contracted him for. He didn't ask questions about the man he just set on fire, he didn't care as long as he got paid.

With the flames that danced on the victim's house, the smell of smoke and death plaguing your lungs, a piece of paper got shoved in your face.

You looked up at Scorcher, seemingly confused, until he tapped at the dotted line you had to sign on, those fiery eyes of his burning holes into your skull.