Ditto and Booster Gold were shot. Patriot had crashed through walls, destroying them and weakening the base's structural strength. Fenrir was down, shot and buried underneath the lighting fixtures he'd detached from the ceiling. And the Deathstroke impostor was standing in front of the remaining young heroes, holding his rifle in his hands.

Hellfire clenched his fists, looking over his shoulder, surprised to see Apollo up and out of his coma along with Fate, Orbit, Patriot and the other two Dittos. Immediately Gabe came to the conclusion that his priority was to protect his teammates, to keep them from being harmed. If anything were to happen to them, he would never forgive himself, and he knew it. Especially if Orbit was hurt...

Looking back towards Deathstroke, Gabe thought of what he could do. He could attack using his flames, cranking the heat up to the point that everything would turn to dust. But he couldn't. There were his friends to think about. And if this was the real Deathstroke, Slade Wilson, Batman would not want him to engage. He'd want Gabe to run as far away as possible, to get out of the assassin's sight and hope he wasn't on his trail. But Gabe couldn't run. The base was underground, sealed away from the world above, and the way out would certainly be blocked by Deathstroke if anyone would try to get out. That, and Gabe wouldn't, couldn't, abandon his friends. So he came to the conclusion that the only thing he could possibly do was stall for time, wait until someone with the power to stand toe to toe against the enemy without jeopardising the team came. 

"Don't make another move. Take one more step and I turn you to ash," he threatened, knowing full well Deathstoke would see through it.

"You wouldn't do that. You'd kill your teammates- your 'friends'- too. You wouldn't take their lives just to defeat me, [i]would you[/i]?" said Deathstroke.

Hellfire hesitated to answer. Should he reply that he wouldn't, it would show a sign of weakness that Deathstroke would likely exploit. But should he reply that he would, the mercenary would expect him to follow through with it.

"... No."

"And do you think your teammates would do the same for you if they were presented with this chance?"

Anger began to brew within Hellfire. His body heat rose, emanating from him, causing those near to him to begin to sweat.

"Yes."

"Your trust, your liking of your supposed friends, betrays you. Do you really think they care about you? Each and every one of them has their own agenda. They're in this for themselves, and no one else."

"That's not true." His anger rose even more.

"And do you even think your mentors give a damn about what happens to you? All they care about is that they have heirs, vessels, to carry on their legacy. Just think of Batman: each time one of his 'precious' Robins moved on or died, he just replaced them with another child. What makes you think he wouldn't do the same to you?"

"He wouldn't... The Leaguers wouldn't just throw us away. They care about us. We mean something to them!" Gabe's voice was rising, almost yelling now.

"Wrong. You mean nothing to them. NOTHING! Just like how [i]my wife[/i] ment nothing to them! They stood by and did nothing as my wife was killed! THEY LET HER DIE! AND THEY'LL LET YOU DIE, JUST LIKE THE SCUM THAT THEY ARE!" Deathstroke screamed, emotion suddenly taking him over. But the information provided to Gabe by this outburst was only heard, not registered. Instead, the rage grew inside him, until Hellfire himself snapped.

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE LYING! THAT'S NOT TRUE! SHUT! UP!" he screeched, shooting a tendril of intense black flame at the man that stood before him. Deathstroke dodged it, jumping to another spot in the cavernous monitor room. The spot he'd stood on just moments before caught fire. Hellfire aimed and fired again, only for his blast to be dodged once more, and where his flame hit a fire was started. He wasn't thinking straight. His anger was making all the decisions. And those were to keep blasting away at Deathstroke, until he was incinerated into nothing. So he kept firing, Deathstroke dodging each time, the place of impact catching on fire. If his teammates were yelling at him to snap him out of his rage, Gabe couldn't hear them. All his concentration was on killing Deathstroke.

But this murderous concentration brought forth his downfall: He didn't see Deathstroke take aim at him with his rifle, didn't see him pull the trigger. And all at once, his vision faltered, and he fell to the ground, the monitor room burning around him. Gabe had failed them. He'd failed his friends.