I gazed down at the boy expressionlessly. The boy stared back blankly.

  Breaking the impromptu staring contest, I grabbed him with my left arm and hoisted him over my shoulder, then strode off up the street.

  Fine. Brute force it is.

  The boy froze in my arm. As we got further away from the balloons, he started struggling. I clutched him firmly like a reluctant sandbag, having already expected his resistance.

  It's for his own good. I don't have time to do this nicely. I'll take him up the street, then have someone from the demolition site watch him.

  Even now, the boy was silent, neither screaming nor wailing. Instead, he made his objections known through kicking and punching everything around him. Unfortunately for me, the only thing around was my face. Unfortunately for him, this amount of pain wasn't enough to faze me.

  A car sped past us, and I caught our reflection on its tinted windows. It was only a brief glance, but the image was seared into my eyes.

  A heartless man with cold eyes carried a boy like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. The boy was struggling with all his might for freedom, hands outstretched to the balloons behind them.

  I froze in place and bit my lips. Again. You're hurting them for your own ends again.

  I set the boy down.

  He turned and ran down the street without a backward glance.

  A soft scoff escaped my lips. The boy really was obsessed with those balloons... and I really am a bastard.

  Enough. I'll figure this out later. Let the boy chase his balloons. I need to chase after my own impossible task.

  I heard the now-familiar racket of the arguing crowd before I saw them. Like last run, I bypassed them via the street.

  I wonder what would happen if I baited the black car to run Sideburns over?

  I stepped between the arguing residents and the foreman. Raising both my left hand and voice, I said, "Excuse me!"

  They quieted down in surprise.

  "I can't help but overhear your argument. Although it's none of my business, perhaps an impartial third party is what you need."

  Sideburns stepped forward, but I cut him off.

  I swept my left hand and gestured towards the foreman. "This man! Doesn't have the power to heed your complaints, even if he wanted to."

  I turned to face the foreman, gesturing towards the crowd. "These fine people are just worried. Who wouldn't be sad to see their home get destroyed?"

  Sideburns turned towards the crowd and raised his voice, "Yes! That's why-"

  "Please!" I interrupted him. "Let's refrain from shouting from now on. Rather than talking over each other, might I suggest you all meet and come up with a list of demands and concerns? In... let's say 5 minutes?"

  Without waiting for a reply, I gently tugged the foreman away from the crowd. When I felt him resist, I whispered, "let's take a quick smoke break, shall we?"

  The resistance faded like dew under the morning sun. I glanced at the overcast sky above us, then at my watch—it was 11:20. I sighed, mood souring.

  I released the foreman, judging we were far enough away to not be overheard.

  He eyed me with a mix of wariness and curiosity.

  I took out the silver cigarette case, then handed him one. From the same pocket, I produced a lighter and lit him up. "Listen, Mr...?"

  "Tully. My name’s Tully. Thanks for the cig," the foreman said.

  I smiled. "You’re welcome, Tully. Let me be honest with you. I couldn't care less about your arguments with the crowd."

  The foreman looked at me in surprise.

  My smile turned self-depreciating. "I'm usually not this much of a busybody, trust me. But I saw someone inside that building just now. Is it one of yours?" That was a lie, of course. I've never seen the Screamer. I didn't even know which room he was in.

  The foreman recoiled.

  "Ah... I see," I said. "How about this then? Just this once, I'll go check it out for you. It would be bad if an accident happened, don't you think?"

  The foreman squinted at me in suspicion.

  I was about to reassure him when Sideburns intruded on our conversation. "What's this then?"

  I turned to him in surprise. That was a mistake on my part. I would've thought he'd take this chance to whip the crowd into a frenzy.

  "Is that what this is about? Are you trying to steal from us? Huh? Thief!" Sideburns glanced behind him and raised his voice to attract the crowd’s attention.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I took a deep, calming breath. Instead of snuffing out the flames of anger in my chest, the deep breath stoked it instead. I couldn't be bothered anymore. I glared at Sideburns.

  His eyes glinted triumphantly. "I should've known you were suspicious. You're just a thief! Somebody call the police!"

  He jutted his chin out, his expression saying, 'What? What can you do to me?'

  The nerve. Did he think I was so easily bluffed?

  "Fine. Call the police. The ambulance too while you're at it," I bit the words out.

  Sideburns gaped, not expecting my agreement. He would be the one in trouble if the police came.

  But I was all out of patience.

  I swung my briefcase at his chin. Still reeling from my reply, he couldn't react in time. He spun around from the force of the blow, then crumpled on the sidewalk. Everything became quiet.

  I stared at Sideburns, stunned. I didn't even hit him that hard.

  The foreman stepped away from me.

  The movement drew my eyes.

  Blood drained from the foreman's face. He took a couple more steps back and raised his hands.

  I scoffed and strode into the apartment building. I should've done that ages ago.

  The apartment was dark and deserted. But I knew what I heard, there was someone still inside. I stalked all over the first floor, opening any door that could be opened. There was no one there.

  I ran up the stairs to the second floor, checking all five rooms in quick succession. Nothing.

  Another five rooms on the third floor. Four of the rooms were at the side, and the one at the end of the corridor seemed like a storage room. I checked the four rooms quickly. Still nothing.

  I stood in front of the last room at the end of the corridor—room number 15.

  It was locked. Bingo.

  I knocked on the thick door. "Hello! Open up! It's important!"

  Silence greeted me.

  I banged on the door for another minute, my fist aching.

  Is there no one there after all? No, this must be it.

  I pounded harder on the door. "Open up! The building's about to be demolished.”

  I waited for a moment longer, then kicked the door.

  Pain burst up my ankle and I bounced backwards from the rebound. I hit the carpeted floor with a woof! Air escaping from my lungs.

  Fuck! That hurts. Movies can't be trusted.

  I stood up, then tried again. I bounced off the door, but was ready for it and didn't fall again.

  Another kick. The door stood firm.

  I stopped, ankles throbbing. I took a few steps back.

  Hmmm? Oh!

  I took another few steps back, then charged forward, kicking the door. With a crack! the door splintered near the knob and burst open.

  I smiled, adrenaline rushing through my veins. That was more fun than expected.

  I stumbled into the room, wincing as I put weight on my right foot.

  Damn! This run is toast. I thought back to the boy I let go. Even more toast. Ugh.

  Mood dampening, I strode into the middle of the apartment. It had the same layout as the others. A kitchen to the left, bedroom to the right, and common room in front. I was about to check the bedroom when the door to the common room cracked open. A pair of eyes peered timidly from within.

  I smiled. "Hello sir!" my smile turned sinister. "I hope you don't mind if I let myself in.”

  The door to the common room swung all the way open, revealing a thin, scruffy, middle-aged man wearing glasses. He smiled nervously, his pale blue eyes darting around to check if there was anyone else around.

  He cleared his throat, then in a raspy voice asked, "Can I help you?"

  "No. I am here to help you," I said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Yes. Are you aware this building is getting demolished in..." I checked my watch (it was 11:27), "3 minutes? No? I assumed not."

  "Demolished?"

  "Yes. Demolished. Why don't you come with me downstairs. Your neighbors will explain everything to you."

  "No! I don't believe you! I won't go out!" the man shouted, backing away.

  Before he could slam the door behind him, I surged forward and stuck a foot in. Big mistake. It was my right foot.

  I gritted my teeth, suppressing both pain and curses. I gave the man a grin—or I thought I did.

  The man paled and skittered away from me.

  I pushed my way into the common room. Except it wasn't a common room. It was a workroom of some sort. I didn’t give it more than a passing glance.

  I spotted the man at the far end of the room, backing up almost all the way up a table there.

  I raised my hand in a calming gesture. "Don't worry sir, I'm not here to hurt you. Please just come with me outside. Everything will be alright."

  "No! Go away. I don't want to go! Please! Just go away!"

  I sighed. I was not in the mood for this.

  Hearing me sigh, the man took something from the table behind him. It was an antique watch. He offered it to me. "Here! I'll give this to you. It's very valuable. But please, just go before it's too late!"

  I gazed at him. He was shaking, desperation etched in his features.

  "I understand." I turned and left.

  The foreman and his four burly workers were waiting for me outside the apartment building, arms crossed.

  "Check room 15. There's a resident there," I told them curtly as I strode past.

  One of them reached a hand to stop me but balked when I shot him a glare.

  I limped my way down the street, mood as foul as the overcast sky above me.

  By the time I reached the crossroads at the end of the street, I knew I was too late to prevent the fire.

  I limped my way down the left path, anyway, forcing myself to power-walk despite the lance of pain shooting up my right ankle after every footfall. I used the pain to focus my will, pushing onwards despite my body trembling in fear of fire.

  Soon I reached the burning section of the street. The fire had spread to the neighboring houses, even to the barren trees lining the sidewalk. I noted down the house in the center—number 50.

  Gritting my teeth, I charged towards the door.

  Please don't be locked.

  The door was locked.

  Godfuckingdamnit! Should I do this another time?

  I cast my eyes around. I wasn't sure I could do this again next time. I also needed to know what caused the fire. A reflection on the tinted window caught my attention. A bedraggled stranger glared back with bloodshot eyes, baring his teeth in a manic grin. His suit was torn and wrinkled, and he clutched a battered briefcase with a death grip.

  I startled away from the stranger, heart pounding in my chest. He mirrored my actions. He…I blinked stupidly at the tinted window, then my expression contorted into a grimace.

  I threw myself at the reflection, breaking through the glass. Sharp edges tore at me, but I pushed through the pain.

  I rolled forward expertly, then took in my surroundings. Moldy and discolored wallpaper on the walls; plastic packages scattered all over the floor; smoke coming out from a door at the far end of the room.

  I limped my way out of the room, into a corridor. I followed the smoke. It was the kitchen. An old man sat calmly at the dining table, a badly burned meal in front of him. Behind him, the kitchen counter was on fire.

  So it was the stove. Noted.

  The old man, the Firestarter, looked up at me with surprise.

  I grabbed him by the arms and dragged him behind me, heading out of the house.

  An explosion roared in front of us. One of the neighboring houses. That must've been why the fire spread across the street.

  Unfortunately, the corridor also collapsed. I looked around, trapped by burning debris once more.

  "I'm sorry," the Firestarter whispered to me. His voice was weak and reedy, barely audible over the crackling flames.

  I looked down at this man, who had indirectly burned me to death once before, and would soon cause my death.

  I patted him twice on the shoulder. "I'll get it right next time, old man."

  My last thought before the fire claimed us was, I swear I'm never going anywhere near a fire ever again.