The Firewasp couldn't keep his eyes off the maddening cacophony around him, the deafening cracks and the beautiful dancing of the resulting flames - it attracted him so! He took out handfuls of incendiary pellets, throwing them casually in all directions and laughing behind his respirator at the noise. Smoke billowed out in all directions, but his eyesight was not hindered in the slightest. He enjoyed being in the center of the fires most of all, swaying and moving to the sensual motions of that which he adored.
Flames, and all its forms, were true beauty. He embraced them, watching the cascading whispers fall away like standing water. Each handful of fire he grasped, no matter how gently, would wrap around him in such antagonizing warmth - so dangerous and lithe, but impossibly graceful and marvelous.
Yet, they never once betrayed him. They opened up towards the Firewasp's enemy as he made his rounds, and threw the blade with reprehensible force. He dodged it openly, observing the massive impact it had on the very floor - piercing the concrete as if it were not even there. He turned his attentions back on the thing, the horrendous creature that would dare swallow the flames into nothingness! How callous!
Without delay, the Firewasp leveled his high-pressure flamethrower, sticky napalm oozing out in a thick stream that ignited on contact with the air. At 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit, it would make short work of practically anything - and keep burning. That is why Firewasp loved it so... it made the angels appear anywhere he wanted them to.