[center][color=9e0b0f]The Apartment[/color]

[color=9e0b0f]2130 hours [/color]
[/center]

Detective Holland waited. It had been awhile since had entered Miss Haywood's apartment. It had been quiet then, not a sound or sliver of abnormality in sight, nothing but the soft ticking of a clock accompanying the silence. Then, as soon as nightfall came, as if on queue, it had begun to rain. And as the flickering streetlight waned in the darkness of the room, he couldn't help but shudder and grit his teeth. Not because he was cold, but because he knew that on this night, someone would be coming to kill him. 

Or Haywood, rather. 

Placing a cigarette in his mouth, he calmly took out the .38 revolver from his the holster on his chest, quietly opening the action and loading the bullets inside.

One in the chamber.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Close the action, spin the chamber, pull the hammer back.

Wait.

He always hated waiting. Especially when he knew something bad was about to happen. 

A flash of thunder interrupted his thoughts, and although he wasn't sure, he could almost swear he heard the door open. And, down in the hallway, a pulsating orange light began to creep up through the darkness and linger.

Almost like...[i]fire.[/i]


----

Heavy footsteps sloshed through the downpour away from the DJ's apartment, a smoldering torch firmly gripped at their side. 

Oh, [color=9e0b0f]he couldn't bear to see such a pretty face die directly.[/color]

He could see the apartment begin to smoke through the lens of his gasmask, briefly watching it flare up and crackle in the flames. 

Oh no, such a pretty little girl should remain in doors during this little shower.

[i][color=9e0b0f]You stay there, and cook.[/color][/i]