Angry security guards and militants burst through the white metal doors. 

Some carried large rifles while a few wielded fire extinguishers. Their fireproof uniforms matched the color of the dreadful black smoke burning through their protective helmets. 

It would have been easy for the soldiers to call the fire station-if their communications haven't been disconnected. 

Security guards-both young and old-tried calling a nearby police station, but all they could hear is loud buzzing, shattered glass, and tenacious fire killing two frightened medical students. 

Disgusted, Johnny and the others walked around the blackened corpses, not showing any emotion in front of the composed soldiers. 

"Jesus Christ." said a disgruntled Caleb as he shifts his feet around the deadly blaze.

As Nessa hiked alongside her calm brother, she prays that Johnny, Caleb, or Brooke would not end up like the victims dying on the floor.

In the meantime, Brooke discreetly clutches Caleb's right hand, startling him in the process. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Caleb in a quiet tone. 

She takes a step back, detesting the charred carcasses sprawling on the floor.

"I had a vision about this," Brooke whispers Caleb. 

"Oh no," he moans. "When did you-"

"Five minutes before we entered the East Wing." Brooke swiftly moves her feet around the scorched corpses. 

She tried to ignore them, but Brooke couldn't get the stench out of her nose. Especially, a disgusted Nessa who waddles behind her older brother for protection. 

"Jesus." Caleb stares at her. "What the hell happened in your vision?" 

Brooke lowers her voice so that no one would hear. "I saw . . . burnt bodies everywhere and soldiers shooting a little boy."

"A kid?" Caleb looks at the stoic expressions of warriors grasping onto their weaponry.

His girlfriend nods hesitantly. "I find it odd that Jason sends a platoon of goons to capture a kid."

"Fucking assholes," Caleb grumbles as he storms down the burning hallway. "I don't care if they call me a coward. I am not laying a hand on a little kid." 

"Me neither." agreed Brooke, watching the soldiers' heavy black boots thud against the scorching floor. 

Similar to the other troopers, Brooke and her friends all wore dark gray suits; but due to Sergeant Jones' strict orders, their guns and melee weapons were confiscated-except Johnny's katana. 

Groaning under her mask, Nessa groans very loudly: "How come you get a kickass weapon and we don't?" 

Her older brother swiveled his eyes above the clouded ceiling. 

"Relax," Johnny scowled. "Sergeant Jones took my gun and ordered me not to draw out my sword for any reason."

Nessa studies the katana sticking out of his backpack and grunts, "At least you have a sword, Mr. Show-off." 

Johnny pretends he didn't hear his little sister's sardonic retort. So, the boy trains his eyesight around the smoky hallway. 

Rooms upchuck fleeing numerous scientists, researchers, and medical students. Teens and soldiers, both moved out of the way to let the science team walk by them. 

"Holy shit." Caleb swivels his eyes over to the screaming survivors. 

They breathed in damp strip pieces of cloths, but unfortunately, the science team couldn't leave without catching their labcoats on fire.

Immensely worried, Sergeant Jones sent three soldiers to keep the science team out of harm's way.

It scared the old trooper to the point where he wondered if this place was his one-way ticket to Hell. 

Due to his hourly shifts, he didn't get to see his teenage children graduate high school or visit his wife in the hospital. 

Doctors claim that stopping breast cancer is not a walk in the park not to mention the endless stack of bills Christopher had to endure.

He thought that after doing several tours in Vietnam would do him and his country good, but now that he has returned from the war, it seems as though reality came to taunt him once again.

His brothers are dead, his kids seldomly call him from their pristine Ivy League colleges, and his wife struggling to fight her illness. 

And Sergeant Jones is determined not to let her slip away. 

As soon as the children entered the South Wing, it was like they were being imprisoned inside an enormous microwave oven.

Trotting behind Nessa, one of Jason's goons snorts: "Where the hell is the kid, anyway?" 

Sergeant scanned across the room, fixing his dark gray surgical mask with his gloved hands. 

"No clue," he replies for the umpteenth time. 

"Are you sure?" the chubby security guard inquired. "Because I don't like the looks of this place."

Evaluating his skittish behavior, Brooke knew that this man has just started his job here. 

"Poor guy," she thinks warily.

The young clairvoyant doubts that this man does not have what it takes to kill someone up close.

Let alone carry a loaded rifle properly. 

Brooke watches the enormous gun bounce in his hands; the slender, black nozzle aims at the darkened walls.

Plump fingers linger on the trigger as Steve's anxious gaze bounce across the room.

Casting a relaxed glance at Steve, Sergeant Jones reassures him that everything is going to be fine.

"Really?" Steve asks in sheer wonder. 

The consoling Sergeant Jones bobs his head.

"Don't worry, Steve." he beamed. "The entire squadron will back you up."

"I strongly doubt that," Nessa remarks in a singsong voice, but Johnny quietly nudges her left shoulder with his elbow. 

As harsh as Vanessa is, the girl has a point. In some cases, monsters are more than willing to take down everything that stands in their way. 

Especially a scared newcomer like Steve.

Because of their ruthless regime in Idlewild, Brooke, Caleb, Nessa, and Johnny took their missions seriously. 

They do thorough research on the demons, memorize their strengths and weaknesses, and take them down through brute force. 

But unlike most cases, the children do not know anything about Apollo. 

They spent at least two hours, making an effort to ask security and armed soldiers about the strange boy. However, no one can give them a straightforward answer.

Instead, the security and patrolmen both tell them it is "classified information".

"Kids, Jason has assigned me to look after you."

His colleagues nod in sync, either patting Steve on the back or giving him some encouraging words. 

At first, Caleb almost smiled at Christopher, but when he approaches the soldier, he can hear his worrisome thoughts.

"God, I hope everything will turn out alright." thought Sergeant Jones.

His mind conveys empathy towards his teammates or Steve. But the only thing he cared for is the pension Jason has tucked in his right-hand pocket.

Without the pension, Sergeant Jones' wife wouldn't survive the operation.

Sensing his comrade's distress, Johnny quietly asks Caleb what he had heard. 

"The old man is worried that we won't make it alive," he mumbles. "This Apollo guy surely got everyone spooked."

Johnny grimaced in disgust. "God, that's insane."

"I know," Caleb moaned. "But I think this guy is doing this because his wife is in the hospital." 

An appalled Brooke gasped, "Jesus, it's no wonder Sergeant Jones is in a bad mood."

"Yeah." Nessa agreed. "Now Sergeant Dick is forcing us to get a move on, so he can throw Apollo back inside his cage."

"And based on his body language, he wants to kill the kid," says Johnny, observing the stoic bodyguards. 

Caleb chews his bottom lip while anxiously picking his black glove's loose string with his fingers.

"What is he going to do to us?" he asks all of a sudden. 

Johnny slowly shakes his head. "I don't know, Caleb."

"How-"

"No whispering behind my back, kids." the begrudging old man peers down at the two young boys, who conveyed innocent smiles. 

"We're sorry," said Caleb silently. 

He slowly backs away from Sergeant Jones, allowing Nessa and the others to walk ahead of him.

"So what were you kids whispering about?"

Johnny blushed. "We were just talking about Apollo."

That's when Sergeant Jones stops, signaling his companions to postpone their journey.

"What do you know about Apollo?"

Nessa, Caleb, and Brooke swarm in front of Johnny to protect him. However, the boy politely tells them that it was unnecessary. 

He glides through their protective barrier and approaches the sergeant.

"Nothing," Johnny vowed. "We only know that the boy you guys are talking about is a pyrokinetic death machine." 

Sergeant Jones and his friends chortle in response. 

"Yeah," he smirked. "That's pretty much what Apollo is like."

Nessa raises her eyebrows. "He's ruthless?" 

"Apollo is an ungrateful brat who won't take his medicine." one soldier spoke up.

Sergeant Jones shuffles his feet down the hazardous corridors, ignoring the screams of innocent victims trapped inside their rooms. 

Dust and black specks of dirt drizzled on the soldiers like snow.

Glass crunched underneath Brooke boots; fresh blood smeared a passage of Jeremiah 11:11 above a dead lab assistant's head. 

An openmouthed Nessa scampers over to Caleb.

"I really don't like the look of this place," she whispers. 

Caleb nodded, "Me too." 

Water filled her eyes as Brooke murmured: "I want to go home."

He squeezed his girlfriend's hand tightly.

"I know how you feel," he says in an amiable tone. 

"We have to get the fuck out of this hellhole. And besides, if Jason cured the world of AIDS, cancer, and other shit, I don't know what is he going to do to us-" 

Caleb's frightening words were interrupted by Sergeant Jones, who signaled everyone to stop.

A surprised Johnny was about to ask him something when he saw a dark blonde boy standing right in front of them. 

He notices Apollo's silky white pajamas were caked in smoke and asphalt. His cracked lips reveal broken teeth as Apollo snarls at the soldiers, security guards, and children like tortured beasts.

With a snap of his fingers, Apollo magically sets the place on fire. Dark blue eyes fixated on Sergeant Jones and the four kids wearing black fireproof gear.

The boy didn't know these kids or the reason they came here. However, the only thing that doesn't surprise him is their taste for torture. 

Nessa and Caleb couldn't help but exchange weird looks. 

"Is this the kid everyone obsessing about?" they wondered.

Truth be told, he doesn't appear to be a monster-more like a boy around Nessa's age. 

"Apollo, we have talked about you leaving your cell." Sergeant Jones said apathetically.

"You can't keep me in here!" the boy snapped back. 

The aging soldier lowers his gun on the hot floor, then raised his hands. "I know, and I am sorry."

"No, you are not." said the bitter teenager. 

Sergeant Jones sighed some more. "Kid, what do you want?"

"I want to get the hell out of this place."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

Even the teenagers stare at him questionably.

Why is Jason Young keeping a fifteen-year-old juvenile in his facility? 

Sergeant Jones puts on a calm demeanor. 

"It's because you are sick," he answers as if he read the children's thoughts. "Jason Young is trying to get you the help you need." 

Johnny takes a step forward. "What kind of help are you talking about, Sergeant Jones?" 

The aging soldier angrily looks in his way and tells him to stay out of it. Just then, three more pernicious militants appeared. 

They wore brave faces; their hands gripped around the butts of various firearms.

And just as the sweat began oozing down their brows, both guards and militants charged through the thick clouds of smoke.

But like a small flame on a candlewick, their confidence disappeared. The blaze has already devoured about a portion of their comrades' bodies. 

Soldiers attempt to rescue them, but once the flames ceased to exist, the victims were transformed into human-sized pieces of charcoal. 

"Holy shit!" a security guard breathed.

He stares at the blackened corpses near his feet, forcing himself not to hurl. However, the disconcerting Sergeant Jones urges Johnny and the others to keep moving. 

His eyes frantically searched for a solution as everyone around him starts dying. Jogging behind Caleb, two soldiers asked Jones what is going on.

"Stand the hell down, everyone!" shouts Sargeant Jones as security leaps over the angry blaze. 

The flames burned a section of their right pant legs and militant gear, but none of the soldiers were harmed. 

"But sir-"

"Nothing is wrong, just stay the hell away from him!"

However, some of his colleagues did not comply with his orders; they simply pointed their firearms in the unarmed teenager's direction.

"Didn't I tell all of you idiots to stand the fuck down?" the sergeant demanded. 

Apollo produced fiery tentacles that lashed at the armed soldiers and security guards. A few struggled to put out the fire, but the flames grew angry and strong.

As many succumbed to their injuries, the children begged Sergeant Jones to give them their firearms. 

"No!" proclaimed Sergeant Jones for the umpteenth time. "You kids are too young to be carrying weapons!"

Nessa looked ready to strangle him. "Listen, man! Our parents taught us how to carry a weapon!" 

"You can't treat us like babies! We're-"

Brooke tackles Nessa on the ground as two fireballs sailed towards their directions. The good news was, none of the girls were hurt. 

The bad news is the entire facility is currently under siege by an angry teenage boy. 

Soldiers got caught in the crossfire, while Johnny manages to keep his friends alive. 

Shattered rubble and flamboyant gunfire; the whistling breeze wounded eardrums and exposed flesh.

As Apollo burned the bullet shells with his gaze, the remaining survivors try to predict what his next move is. 

Meanwhile, an inquisitive Johnny looks at the ceiling and notice the sprinklers weren't set off. 

"Weird," he thinks. Normally, these sprinklers would switch on if there is a fire. 

Could they be jammed, somehow?

To prove his theory, Johnny steals a gun from a nearby soldier and begins blasting the silver sprinklers.

His accuracy was quick but deadly; yellow shells skidded across the floor, prompting his friends to copy his strategy.

Nessa, Caleb, and Brooke retrieved the guns from their stoic companions and shoot the jammed sprinklers

"Hey, kids!" a soldier stares at the children reloading their stolen firearms.

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Ignoring the disgruntled trooper, the children continue shooting at the sprinklers above Apollo. 

Astonished by his actions, the soldiers and security guards both recoiled the touch of blistering water. But fortunately, it obliterated the hostile flames, disabling Apollo's abilities in the process.

Delighted, the soldiers and security guards both surround the vulnerable child. 

They pinned him to the ground, handcuffed his hands, then dragged Apollo away like a dangerous convict. 

"Uh, what the hell are you guys doing?" demand Nessa. "You know he's not a threat, right?"

Johnny lowers his newly acquired gun in the back of his pants, then tells his young sibling to calm down. 

"Calm down?" Nessa repeated. "But we can't let them do that to Apollo!" 

She runs after the boy when Brooke firmly grips her wrist. 

"Nessa, we can't save him," she says in a gentle voice.

"But .   .  . why?"

A patient smile stretched across Caleb's lips.

"I'm sorry, Nessa," he says softly. "But right now, we got a cure to make."

"And a mystery to solve," Johnny adds, finally removing his helmet. "Come on, guys. Let's go."