The arsonist is a humble man, and he never really needed any help with doing what he does. Never really understood the point of making friends if they were all going to die anyways.
But sometimes, some people are too good to not befriend.
(That was...
The townies were furious. How could they be so daft as to lynch the Lookout? However now it was time to go home for the night, and everyone retreated to their residences.
It was quiet again at last in Firebug's home. Quiet and dark. He lit another candle and listened to it flicker and crackle tamely. It soothed him, and the thought that after two more dousings he'd be able to see the flames dance at a greater magnitude reassured him. Firebug grabbed a slice of bread and bit down into it, then rushed to the dining room table and splayed out the town list and his will. Who's next?
He had drawn a box next to Gile's name to signify that he had been doused already. One he ignited him, he'd check off the box.
Firebug, chewing a chunk of bread, placed his forehead in his hands and skimmed over the town list again and again. He took out his pen and began filling in the holes in the will with roles.
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Three deaths, one doused. Who to douse?
Firebug slammed his pen down, leaving a blot of black ink on the paper. He knew now.
The blot landed on the spot next to Ivan's name.
He breezed over to his room and lifted his gas tank, somewhat taken aback when he felt that it was empty and light.
"It's time for a refill, huh?" He took the drained tank to a room in the far back of the house. The door to it was locked, soon accessed using a key Firebug kept under the doormat. Once it opened, a wave of an aroma of gasoline and ashes overcame his.
Inside the small room were torches waiting to be lit, gallons of gasoline, matchboxes, firewood, coal, and a lesser-used flamethrower. It was basically the most flammable, most dangerous room to ever exist.
Firebug grabbed a gallon tank of gasoline and filled up his little red portable container. He then capped them both up and hefted the gallon tank back to where it was with a slight grunt.
"There you go, babe," he said under his breath, rushing from the room to his own cubicle. Into his dark fire-proof jumper he went, jerking on his gloves, wiggling his fingers in them. He then tied his boots up, remembering about Dexter's. That Garrett guy seemed like an utter jerk. Perhaps Dexter wasn't that bad after all.
The Arsonist finally exited the house with high hopes after blowing off the candle in the dining room. Immediately upon stepping outside, the cold wind clawed at his face and nipped his nose. Despite the frigid weather, he was determined. He galloped his way towards Ivan's home- a comfy little cabin with a green lantern beside it to honor his fellow veterans. As he uncapped the vat of gasoline, Firebug noticed that Ivan was sleeping snugly with an M4 carbine by his side. He would have to be silent and stealthy in order to not awake the snoozing war vet.
Firebug started to happily douse the house, it was the same routine as with the last dousing. While he emptied his mini tank, the full moon rose high and cast a silver light onto the town, everything being silhouetted upon. The Arsonist stood and watched for a while, admiring the serene view of the sleeping town of Salem, the thatched roofs, the encircling mountains, the undisrupted corn fields in the distance. It was tranquil quietude.
A minute had already flown by when Firebug distinguished the contour of someone watching him, someone standing near the Medium's home. Once he turned his head to address the goggling stranger, they rushed into the house of the spiritualist.
How odd. Anyhow, there was no time to lose, unless he wanted to be caught by a nosy passerby. With this in mind, Firebug dove in between alleys and unlit spaces, hurrying back home as briskly and mutely as possibly.
While he tried to get the door open he could see the outline of a person making their way to the Mayor's house. To his right the light of the jail was illuminated, signifying that someone had been jailed. A screech broke out from somewhere close to him, but he didn't think much of it. Perhaps it was the Veteran.
He drifted off to sleep with the dream of immense, bright fires illuminating the skyline. He knew that it would soon become a reality.
