[center][h3]PROLOGUE
DEAD FUEL[/h3]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YgNFKx13fk]Soundtrack[/url]
[/center]

[b]August 6th, 1968
Encino, Los Angeles[/b]


The rusty and battered Ford pickup crept down the gravel road. Night had fallen on the San Fernando Valley, and this far out of the city the only real light were the truck’s two headlights. Inside the truck’s cab, the cherry red glow of a cigarette tip floated from side to side as the Cowpoke exhaled smoke from his nostrils.

Elton Britt’s yodeling came out the radio while the Cowpoke squinted to see through the pickup’s dirty windshield. The headlights shone on a wooden sign that read FUTURE HOME OF PACIFIC VILLAS: COMING LATE 1969. This was the place. The truck rolled along the gravel road past the sign and down over a small hill. The gravel stretched down below the hill in a road laid out in a grid pattern. The bones of half a dozen homes were below with the foundations of at least three dozen more across the grid. Construction equipment and earthmovers were parked for the night.

The Cowpoke rolled the pickup down the hill and came to a stop outside one of the half built homes. He left the engine running and the lights on as he climbed out the truck and walked towards the house. The cigarette in his mouth was down to the nub. He spat it out and paused to pull out a fresh smoke from the packet. His zippo with the Indian head engraving on it lit up as he put flame to a new cigarette. The dim light of the zippo showed a face weathered and cracked by the sun.

The boards creaked as the Cowpoke walked across what would become the house’s porch. He stepped through the opening that was supposed to be the front door. Even with the lights of his truck barely casting into the house he could see the leftovers of their handy work. Blood on the walls, cooled candle wax on the floor, and the smell of blood and wine in the air.

The body on the floor was like the last few he had seen. Dead as hell and all carved up. Blood ran with violet body paint on the body and made it all one big mess. The Cowpoke took a long drag off his cigarette before exhaling smoke into the air and shaking his head. He’d seen cattle treated with more dignity than these people treated other humans. But who the hell was he to judge?

Another fresh cigarette in his mouth and he was back at the truck, this time unloading his tools from the bed and walking back into the house. He splashed gasoline around the body in a swirling pattern that went outward across the room. The instructions were very specific on the pattern he had to follow. He emptied the last of the can on the unfinished house’s porch before stepping down the stairs to his truck. He reached into the breast pocket of his pearl snap shirt and pulled out the device. It was a simple cigarette with three matchbooks tied to it with rubber bands. The Cowpoke pulled his zippo out and lit the tip of the cigarette. He carefully walked back towards the house and placed the device down at the end of the gas trail. The tip of the cigarette glowed and began to slowly burn its way down. 

The Cowpoke drove the truck up the hill and parked at the top. He left the engine running, but killed the lights. He knew the fuse would take about ten minutes to burn down to the matchbooks. From there the matches would alight and catch the gasoline on fire.With all the construction material and still to be cleared brush surrounding the lots, in fifteen minutes this whole part of the San Fernando Valley would be in flames.

A light shone from the half-built house below as the fire caught. The Cowpoke began to breathe heavily as he saw it all catch flames. He coughed and felt his jeans grow tight in the crotch as the fire began to engulf it all. These people he was dealing with, the ones who paid him to clean up their messes. They could have their fun all they wanted to. They slaughtered them like cows, sure. But the fire… it didn’t care. The flames consumed man and beast alike. It didn’t care about your station in life or how much you had to offer. The fire was the great equalizer in this world. And The Cowpoke had seen it's power over the years firsthand. Men and women and children burned to a crisp by the flames. It was all so beautiful.

A loud hacking fit seized the Cowpoke suddenly. He spat a wad of bloody phlem from his mouth and out the truck window. The flames had grown across the entire development now. Seemed as if Pacific Villas would have to change that sign... coming in 1970... or 1971. He Cowpoke laughed heartily and started to turn his truck away from the flames.