Lying back down, I want to sleep the rest of the day.
Looking towards the bulletin board, I see yet another note.
With a groan, I get up.
This is starting to get old.
Grabbing the red note card, it says: Fintan Fargo. This time it has a time listed as well, 9 AM.
I look back at the bed longingly.
But I still have no clue what the hell is happening. It's probably just an insane coincidence that the last three days I saved those women. But I can't in good conscience let an innocent woman die because of my laziness.
Then again, I did kill two people yesterday, so how good is my conscience?
Kinda forgot I did that.
I'm a murderer and yet I feel no different.
Huh...
Is it because they were "Bad guys"? I certainly don't feel the crushing weight of my conscious like they show in movies.
Well, I guess this will be retribution for those kills.
So, with a sigh, I get dressed and leave the comfort of my inherited cocoon.
****
Three coffees down and it's only 8 o'clock. At least with this much caffeine in me, I can stand up straight.
Arriving at the address, it's a small one-story apartment.
Walking over to room 134, I knock.
The door is opened by a kid.
He's barely tall enough to reach the handle as he picks his nose with the other. "Who are you?"
"Uh... probably your new dad?"
The kid is still digging for gold as he turns, shouting out. "Mom! Did you cheat on Dad?"
This is odd, is this phenomenon about to make a home wrecker?
A pretty woman comes rushing over.
"Don't say those kinds of things, Timothy?! I love your father very dearly, I would never." She notices me, and her eyes widen. "Oh, excuse me, I apologize for his words. How can I help you?"
"Is your name Fintan Fargo?"
"It is not. Are you with the police?"
Unless they've changed their uniform, standing there in my usual baggy black hoodie and kakis with a metal necklace, I'm a little confused about the accusation. Is it a particular hormone they give off? Maybe I got it from Folie. But she was a SWAT officer... are they a part of the police?
"Do you know anyone by that name?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "If you are looking to sell us something, I apologize, but we are not interested."
Strange... did I get the right address? It did say this room.
Standing there, I realize I just knocked on a random family's apartment for no reason.
Might as well make a reason.
"That's unfortunate, but if you would be so kind as to give me a moment of your time, I could turn your life around. I work for the Garden of Eden, and the moment I saw you and your beauty, I was determined to try and sell you one of our finest apartments."
She strains a smile. "I see... I am grateful for the compliment, but we are quite happy with our home."
Eh, it was worth a try.
With a bow, "I see, them I am grateful for your attention."
Walking back down the street, I realize these last three days were just a huge coincidence. I still don't get the deal with the notes, though. Who is placing them?
I still haven't gotten groceries, maybe I should do that today. What time is it?
Reaching for my phone, it's not there.
Frantically searching my pockets, it's nowhere.
Shit, did I drop it?
Turning back around, I try and retrace my steps.
Making it back to the neighborhood hood I wonder if I should ask the neighbors if they know-
My eyes widen as the apartment I'd initially gone to now has smoke billowing out from the windows.
There's a crowd of people standing in the front grass, watching their apartments set ablaze.
Rushing over there is a woman in a firefighter jacket trying to hold back the mother from before. "My son is in there! Timmothy!"
"Please, ma'am, the firefighters will be here shortly."
The red and yellow-haired woman is wearing a yellow jacket and baggy fireproof pants.
Running up to them, "What happened?"
"Who are you?"
"Uh... graves?" I say, as though that clarifies anything.
The woman is wearing yellow goggles over her dark purple eyes. Her voice commands the crowd. "My name is Fintan, I am an off-duty firefighter. So please listen and step awa-"
"My son! Timothy!"
"Get back, ma'am, it's dangerous!"
The woman runs past Fintan.
Preventing her advance, I place my hand on her shoulder and put on the most handsome face I can. "Worry not, miss, I am here. Therefore, I shall save him." Ew, that felt cheesy.
With watery eyes, she looks at me with disbelief. "The landlord?"
That is so not my superhero name. "Uh... just call me Graves. But YOU, can call me... anytime."
"What?"
Taking a deep breath, I walk towards the front porch.
"Please save him!" The woman pleads.
Turning around with that smug look, I wave.
Fintan runs towards me. "Wait! Who are you? Don't just run into a burning house!"
Marching towards my fiery grave, I run inside, the fire has only spread to half the house.
"Timmy!" What was his name? "Timothy?" I shout.
I hear crying three rooms down.
"Get back from the door!" I command.
Stepping back, I attempt to kick the door.
My foot slams on the wood, sending an electrifying stinging sensation through my body.
That hurts!
Not as easy as they make it look online.
Vividly, I remember something about kicking closer to the lock.
So, trying on more time, I slam my foot right next to the handle
Causing it to break open.
Walking inside, there's a boy cowering in the corner, flames have begun to eat away at the wallpaper.
Crouching down, I attempt to avoid the smoke.
Picking Timothy up, I run out of the house.
I hear crashes of the falling structure behind me.
Gasping for oxygen, the morning air tastes like water in the desert.
"Timothy!" The mother rushes over.
Setting the kid down, he runs over and hugs his mom.
Kneeling there, I gasp for air.
Fintan rushes over to me, putting her hand on my back. "That was stupidly brave of you, sir. Are you alright?"
I attempt to put on my handsome face again, except my eyes are burning red, and I can feel snot running down my face as I gasp for air. "Nev- Never be- better." Trying not to vomit at the end of my sentence, I cut myself off.
"I shouldn't have let you do that."
"Well, it all ended up alrigh-"
"It's a firefighter's job to do that, civilians shouldn't have to risk their lives. Preventing potential deaths is just as important."
"Which is exactly what you did by not going in there."
"Well..."
Finally catching my breath, I push off my knees and stand.
The mother runs up to me and hugs me. "Thank you for saving my son!"
"No worries, I would do it again for yo-" I nearly vomit on her face, so I just nod.
Holding my fist up to the sky, I begin to cheer.
Haha! Take that destiny! I didn't have to die this time!
"Mr. Figglesworth!" I hear the kid cry out behind me.
With a sigh, I turn, knowing how this story will go. "And who is that?"
"My favorite stuffed animal!"
"Daaammmnnn, that sucks. Too bad there's nothing we can do." I say sarcastically.
"You have to go back and get him!"
(-_-) "Really, kid? You're gonna risk someone's life for a stuffy."
"I will go!" Fintan commands.
"You really shouldn't."
With a look of sadness, as though knowing she would likely die, Fintan nods. "It's alright, Graves, I will do it."
You're shitting me!
"C'mon, you're seriously going to risk your life for a toy? I will literally pay for a new one."
"No, I understand how important a stuffed animal can be to a child. I used to have a park ranger bear as my plushie, and it meant more than the world to me. I may be off duty, but as a firefighter, I must do my job. Let me handle this."
"Yeah, okay, I get that, I used to have a stuffed bunny too, bu-"
The kid points and laughs at me. "HAHA! You have a stuffed animal! But you're an adult!"
With wide, strained eyes, I lean down and whisper to the boy. "Kid, I killed two people yesterday. And I made them wish they had a blankie before I killed them. So please... laugh...one...more...time."
The kid's eyes widen as he steps back.
"What did you say?" She questions.
Whipping around with a close-eyed smile, I tilt my head. "I said I killed two people with how kind I was..." slouching, I sigh. "So, I'll go."
"No, I can't ask you to do that!" She puts her hand out.
With a look of pity for myself, I nod. "It seems destiny can."
I strip down to my briefs, placing the rest of my clothes in a pile.
"Uh... what are you doing, Graves?"
"Learning from yesterday."
In my boxers, I march towards the burning house.
Apparently, burning alive is THE most painful way to die. I don't know though, boiling oil was pretty rough. Looking at the raging fire, I sigh. But I certainly don't want to know which hurts more.
Yet that seems to be the hand fate has dealt to me.
Making my way inside, the air is thin, every breath forcing me to nearly vomit, dropping to my knees, I crawl my way through the half-burnt house. Chunks of wood crumble to the ground.
The smoke burns my eyes, the embers of the wood scorch my bare skin.
Making my way back towards the room Timothy was initially in, my eyes scan the room.
I don't even know what I'm looking for, kid just called it Figglebottom. The fuck is a Figgle?
Gasping for air, my dry eyes eventually land on a stuffed cow.
Snagging it, I attempt to crouch my way back out.
A chunk of wood falls down on me, and the burning wood sears into my skin.
Letting out a cry, I am forced down to my stomach.
After grappling with the stupid plank for a moment, I get it off me.
Biting the inside of my cheek, the skin still burns as I feel the raw flesh fill with smoke.
My eyes widen as the entrance of the house has caved in. Planks block the door.
Stumbling to my feet, I grab the flaming wood and yank them apart.
The skin on my hands bubble as they burn, my tears evaporate before they ever leave my ducts.
I manage to create enough of an opening to crawl through.
Getting on my stomach, I attempt to crawl through the small hole.
My body scrapes against the scorching metal and wood.
My cries are muffled by the crashes of the building behind me. A burnt chunk of wood falls down and impales my arm.
Finally squirming free, I escape the apartment.
I feel like Gus Fring, as half my body is burnt to a crisp. Trudging my way forward like a zombie, I wheeze.
Three fire trucks finally fucking pull up to the house.
Crumbling to the ground, I gasp for life.
Extending my arm out, the stupid half-burnt stuffed cow rolls on the wet morning grass.
The kid walks over, looking down at me with disgust.
"Why did you burn it? ...I don't really want it anymore."
My vision gets blurry as the stupid kid puts the stupid cow back in my hand.
The last thing I see is the firefighters aiming their huge hose at me.
Fintan puts her hands up, attempting to stop them. "Wait! That's a pers-"
My vision is blinded by a high-pressure wave of water slamming my raw, burnt skin.
I groan a gargle of words.
"You, little shit-"