Saturday, April 7th, 2018
Fashion Valley Mall, San Diego
United States of America
Lilim approached the man as her gauntleted hands worked to join her fourteen-inch carbon-fibre batons end to end with a twist that formed them into a single staff before depressing two sections of the staff to deploy a twelve-inch blade from each end of what had quickly become a lethal double-ended bō-staff. Just then, the light poles illuminating the parking lot went out. Lilim did not care as she closed, her eyes brightening in colour considerably.
"I am a Creature of the Night, and you will fear me."
The man found he could do nothing as the flaming red eyes came towards him and he did fear them.
..._...
Lilim wanted the man to die but as she swung the bō-staff, she found another blade blocking her own.
"Who the fuck!" she exclaimed as she turned to her left to find herself facing an armour-clad fighter.
The blade was a katana and was being wielded with every correctness which gave Lilim pause as she took in the rest of the interloper's ensemble. The shape of the body armour showed it was a boy younger than Nicholas and nearer her age. He was about her height and his armour was similar to that worn by Nicholas, James, and Kieran. The armour was a mixture of deep greens, dark greys, and pale blues which was perfect as urban camouflage. No skin was visible, and the boy obviously knew how to handle himself. But who was he and whose side was he on.
"Who are you?" Lilim demanded as she allowed her quarry to flee.
"We are Animus."
"There more of you?" Lilim asked as she took a glance beyond her opponent.
Added pressure on her blade and no verbal response suggested that the short and far from clarifying conversation was over. Lilim gauged her opponent, wanting to be certain she could prevail in a fight before she found herself in extreme danger. The boy appeared competent, and he appeared to be alone... but she had been taught by the best and she had been taught never to assume. If the interloper had a partner... Lilim pushed back from the boy and performed a good disengaging backflip. That introduced separation and gave her time to reassess the situation but then she found herself seeing double as an almost identical form appeared out for the darkness. That was not good, Lilim realised. She was not ready for one versus two and not two males who were naturally stronger – despite being feminist to a fault, she knew that biology was a bitch. The two interlopers advanced on Lilim, blades drawn and glinting in the street lighting.
But then they stopped as if they had received a warning and together both turned to Lilim's right where the flicker of flames could be seen emerging from the darkness.
..._...
The two interlopers braced up as the apparition emerged from the darkness and they came face to face with Lilith and her deadly bō-staff.
Ominously, the blades were dripping blood, and it was obvious that Lilith was in no mood for conversation as she struck out at the first of the interlopers and moved to strike the second. Lilim kept her distance and watched Lilith's back as the two interlopers fought a defensive battle against an angry vigilante whose combat suit pulsed with fire and was a major distraction to the youths who were surprised by the ferocity of Lilith's attack without a spoken word. The fiery red eyes indicated extreme anger as did the weight of each strike upon their blades. Like most of their sex, they were overconfident when fighting those of a female persuasion and had yet to experience the wrath of a pissed off Fusion vigilante of either sex. Their introduction was not one either was going to forget as Lilim threw in a strike of her own and caught one of the interlopers on the left thigh hard enough to elicit a momentary limp, but Lilith's overt savagery prevented a retaliatory strike back at Lilim. Then an apparently very pissed off Trauma waded into the fight, striking without warning as Lilith leapt out of his way.
The brand-new and freshly blooded forty-inch katana came down upon the nearest interloper with the weight of hell behind it and the youth's legs buckled as each strike hammered him. His compatriot struck at Trauma with gusto but each time he tried to come to the aid of his partner, Lilith intercepted his strike and pushed him backward and when he tried to disengage, he found Lilim preventing escape. It was not going the way they had planned to intimidate Fusion. Indeed, it was them who were being intimidated much like the unfortunate events in Los Angeles earlier that week. The male in blue body armour was obviously protective of his women and disliked them being attacked and was very strong. As for Lilith, her reputation had not been exaggerated. Her very name was whispered by those of a criminal mind who had known of her both in San Diego and Los Angeles and she was regarded with a similar reverence to Hit Girl herself as far as inhuman, merciless killing was concerned. The attack that night had been all about gathering intelligence on Fusion and much information had been gathered but it was time for them to leave.
The night was rent apart by a sharp devastatingly loud sound not unlike a thunderclap which had all those without ear protection rolling on the ground.
..._...
The distraction caused by the sound had allowed the interlopers to disengage but then came a calamitous flash equal to the thunderclap and thick swirling smoke enveloped the entire area blocking the sky from view and allowing the interlopers to back further away as a shadowy form emerged from the billowing smoke.
The man was over six feet in height and wore black body armour with the hilts of battle machetes extending from each shoulder blade. The only colour was in the mask, which was half black, but the left side was a dull orange.
"Go!" came a guttural command and the original pair of interlopers vanished into the swirling smoke and the roar of motorcycle engines could be heard disappearing to the south.
"Until we meet again, Fusion," came the same guttural voice as the giant of a man just turned and was gone.
"What the fuck was that all about?" Trauma demanded.
"Time to go," Lilith growled, and they all ran for their transport.
Less than a minute later, they were headed north.
Haven B
Five Points
While it was, strictly speaking, their second Haven, it was referred to as 'Haven' rather than 'Haven B' by its occupants despite the previous Haven having been destroyed.
As with Safehouse F in Chicago, Haven B was a remnant from the Cold War and had formally belonged to the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI), the military intelligence agency of the United States Navy. Abandoned by the ONI in 2003, the underground facility received little more than caretaker activity while the aboveground building was utilised by the United States Navy for off-base support and storage for the naval base at Coronado. A key factor for the choice and provision of the building and underground facility for the use of Fusion, were the remote access points within what used to be strictly warehouses and vacant lots. While the warehouses had long vanished, the underlying tunnels and entry/exit points had been retained and in the vast majority of cases were ignored by all as simply decaying concrete edifices with unknown purposes.
Leaving the Pacific Highway at the West Washington Street exit, the three riders took a hard left before West Washington and passed under the Pacific Highway and once in the semi-darkness they took a hard right into what resembled a storm drain and was surrounded by a skate park of sorts. They raced into the darkness and after a little over one hundred yards the storm drain took a sharp turn to the right before it ended abruptly at a concrete wall. However, a significant section of the floor was steel and ostensibly a giant grate – which it was, to a point. At a signal transmitted by Trauma, the grate dropped at the far end and the three motorcycles rode down the sloping grate into a lower tunnel. Behind them, a pair of large hydraulic rams lifted the steel grate back into place and bright LED lights snapped on illuminating a further four hundred yards of concrete tunnel which while remarkably clean betrayed the aged nature of said tunnels. Along the length of the tunnel about four feet off the ground ran cable trays and several pipes of varying dimensions. The ceiling held the lighting and aluminium air extractors which changed the air to remove poisonous exhaust gases and replace that with climate-controlled clean air. The three motorcycles moved in single file as they followed the tunnel, passing through a pair of interconnected steel blast doors spaced twenty feet apart which could only be opened one at a time to create a kill zone in between.
It was only when they passed the second steel blast door which closed behind them did Lilith breathe out a sigh of relief, knowing that they were safe from attack.
..._...
After a hard right and at the opposite end of the concrete access tunnel, a third steel blast door allowed them access into a large underground garage where they parked their motorcycles.
Helmets came off and were placed onto a steel rack beside a double set of solid-looking doors. After Lilith placed her hand onto an angled screen, the doors unlocked, and they passed through the doorway into a passageway and took the first door to the right which was where they pulled off their combat suits and hung them up while their weapons were placed into racks in an adjoining well-equipped armoury. The trio then passed through into the next room and stripped off the rest of their clothing to take a shower.
Juno was not overly amused to see Nicholas 'assisting' Guinivere with lathering up and the returning of said 'assistance' by Guinivere which soon resulted in the pair of them requiring another shower to clean off the results of their first shower! Juno opted to leave her mentor and her human sex toy to their antiques, so she quickly dried off and pulled on some clean underwear and a pair of shorts followed by a T-shirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of beach shoes and headed back out into the corridor, turning right and then taking the next door to the left which was about midway down the corridor. That door too had a hand scanner to prevent unauthorised access which at first Juno had bitched about constantly, but she knew why the security was so important especially as their previous Haven had been compromised and blown up. Being underground was different, but it felt secure and as she climbed two flights of stairs and after another handprint released the double doors atop the staircase, she emerged into the capacious living quarters on the upper level of the two-level bunker.
She knew that no rockets could destroy the subterranean bunker which had been built to withstand a nuclear strike.
..._...
The living quarters were well fitted out and comfortable with little to indicate that they were forty feet below the building above.
Modern LED lighting gave a form of natural light to the pale blue painted concrete walls part of which was covered by furniture, shelving, and fireproof fabrics to soften the ten-foot-tall environment. A soft but hard wearing dark blue carpet was fitted throughout while plush rugs added some warmth to the more comfortable areas which included several couches and many giant beanbags. What had once been open plan office space had been portioned off to allow for comfort. There was a large square living area in the very centre of the space. As you entered the space from the staircase you passed through an open space between the two main training areas, on to the left and one to the right. The space to the left was primarily dedicated to gym equipment while the right was fitted with a training mat and the walls were padded apart from where training equipment hung in wooden racks. Juno passed both areas by as she made for the central area, pushing open a door separating the two areas.
The tired girl slumped down onto a couch and gazed up at the ceiling for several minutes before she heard voices and grimaced.
"You okay, honey?" Guinivere asked.
"Just a little bit tired," Juno replied.
"Did you have fun showing off to the boys?"
"A little, I suppose. I don't know why but I do enjoy it when people stare at me and enjoy what they see. I feel like a woman more than a girl and that makes me feel good inside."
"If it makes you happy then I'm happy."
"What about those new guys? They seem to have the same kit as us."
"Not the same equipment, Juno. Fox would never produce equipment for anyone other than Fusion and our sister organisations."
"The Seamstress must be supplying to anyone who has the money," Nicholas stated as he stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of mugs. "Not that we can stop her."
"Has to be her – the equipment looks top tier," Guinevere agreed.
"My lady," Nicholas said as he handed Guinivere a mug of hot chocolate before he handed one to Juno. "Little lady."
"Hey!" Juno exclaimed. "Incomplete!"
"Oh, for the love of God!" Nicholas exclaimed as he made for the kitchen.
Guinivere laughed. "Fucking Mindy!"
Juno grinned happily as Nicholas dumped a handful of mini marshmallows into the girl's mug.
Earlier that day...
Olite Court
Some three-hundred and fifty yards to the southwest of the home occupied by Guinivere, Juno, and Nicholas, a large sprawling property lay on the corner of La Pintura Drive and Olite Court.
It was a modern property, the ceramic tiled roof covered with around four dozen solar panels providing ample free(-ish) electricity. In the back yard behind a trimmed hedge some three feet thick and twelve feet tall, grass, patio, and pool all fought for space on three sides of the property's northern end. Good sized trees to the west and north in coordination with the tall hedge to the east ensured privacy, and as an inquisitive eight-year-old had discovered, ample cover for defensive weaponry. Indeed, said eight-year-old had discovered over a dozen devices strategically placed around the property's border. She had no idea what they were but when she had peered at the outward facing front of one device, she had read three words embossed into the plastic device:
FRONT
TOWARD ENEMY
A brief Google of said phrase had sent a cold chill down the spine of said eight-year-old and she had resolved to not poke about any further.
..._...
Instead, young Bailey Eddington opted to spend her time (when not at school) splashing in the swimming pool or sunning herself on the capacious patio.
Her elder sister, on the other hand, avoided the swimming pool for reasons that Bailey did not understand, favouring the patio and a large umbrella to protect her pale complexion. Whilst Bailey enjoyed playing – she was eight after all – Laurel preferred reading and read she did. Every day, she poured over the day's newspapers – for what, Bailey could not fathom – and made extensive notes in a ring-bound notebook with a biro. Only after an hour of that did Laurel deign to allow sun to touch her skin. Despite wearing a two-piece bikini, Laurel would spray every square inch of skin with factor fifty and smear more on her face. She would then stretch out in the sun, a pair of dark sunglasses protecting her eyes.
"Why?" Bailey asked her sister. "Why do you waste so much time on those newspapers?"
"I like to keep up with what's going on in the world. I was kept out of so much and I'm not letting anything slip past without my knowing about it."
Bailey's eyes moved to the scars on her sister's right side where, as Bailey understood it, Laurel had been shot twice while in Switzerland. Laurel had scars both inside and outside and Bailey so wanted to help but Laurel would not let her – or anybody else for that matter – in. That was also the reason why a small black box was strapped to Laurel's right ankle – until she spoke to someone about her feelings, then the device would remain.
"Hi, guys!"
"Cammie!"
The woman was almost flattened by Bailey who wrapped her arms around the woman very tightly. Captain Cameron 'Cammie' Gale United States Marine Corps enjoyed the welcome and had to prise the girl away from her so that she could looked at cooking a meal for the three of them.
"Good to see you, Bailey. Hi, Laurel."
"Hi, Cammie," Laurel responded with much less enthusiasm than her younger sibling. "Had a good day?"
"Yeah, I did," Cammie responded. "Took a new MV-22 for a flight over the Pacific in the morning and spent the afternoon doing the paperwork."
"Laurel spent the morning in bed and then the afternoon doing paperwork," Bailey commented as she laid the table in the kitchen.
"Oh, yes?"
Laurel sighed and threw a glare at her sister who smiled sweetly.
"I've been keeping up with the news. I was attracted to the massive fires which have been breaking out over the past month or so across San Diego." Laurel saw Cammie's expression. "I know, I promised not to get involved with anything fire-related and yes, I noticed the fire house just round the corner – funny!"
"No, Laurel – that is a coincidence," Cammie responded. "We trust you, but we need to understand what is going on inside your mind."
Laurel simply scowled in response as Cammie dug into the fridge to find a pizza she had bought the previous evening.
"Okay, what have you discovered?" Cammie asked as she shoved said pizza in the oven and set the temperature and timer.
"The news has not linked any of the fires as they all come across as different without a single common denominator to signify a serial arsonist. The police have not reported on them beyond saying they were all suspicious but that they were investigating. I think I've found that single common denominator – we have a fire bug in San Diego, and they have struck four times, so far, without anybody seeing the serial nature or the signature."
"I'm sure the cops have seen it too," Cammie responded.
"I don't think so," Laurel responded, "and if I'm right – there will be another blaze, tomorrow night and somebody is going to die."
"Die? Have there been any deaths so far?" Cammie pushed.
"No, but there is a pattern building and the arsonist is just getting started, flexing his muscles, so to speak, and to find out if anybody is on to him."
"How would you know that?"
"I am an arsonist. I am a fire bug. This is what I was trained to do and so far, he is behaving like a typical fire bug – you just have to be one to see the signs."
"Let me make some calls..."
"I'm hungry," Bailey insisted.
"...after pizza, okay?"
"Thanks, Cammie."
The following morning...
Sunday, April 8th
Trying to get hold of someone who would listen to her on a Sunday was not easy and not going well.
It was also difficult to persuade someone to reinvestigate four fires spread over the space of some eight weeks with no readily identifiable features. But she finally attracted the attention of a Los Angeles Fire Department Arson Investigator who seemingly had nothing better to do with this Sunday afternoon.
A meet was arranged for that afternoon.
..._...
They walked from the house to the parking lot at Soledad Park.
They found a man stepping out of a large black Dodge SUV as they arrived. The man wore civilian clothes, but a shield clipped to his belt identified him as a Los Angeles Fire Department Arson Investigator.
"Captain Cameron Gale, U.S. Marine Corps."
"Arson Investigator Terril Mayworth, Los Angeles Fire Department."
"This is Laurel and her sister, Bailey."
"Hi!" both girls responded.
"I'll take Bailey for a walk while you two talk," Cammie suggested.
As Cammie and Bailey walked off, the man turned to Laurel.
"I understand you have some information to discuss, young lady."
"I spend my time reading and, well, I'm attracted to fire. I read about the fire in La Jolla village, eight weeks ago – no deaths, just three houses burnt to their foundations: cause unknown but suspected to have been caused by a faulty AC unit. I thought nothing of it apart from the sheer scale of the blaze which looked bigger than you'd expect."
"Go on."
"Then there was the blaze at a warehouse, four weeks ago, near the airport which shut down flights for three hours due to the dense smoke caused by burning rubber – took four days for your guys to snuff that one out. Again, no injuries. That peeked my interest and I started digging. I found out about the commercial fire north of MCAS Miramar where Cammie works. That was two weeks ago, and I started to see a pattern emerging. I know the types of fire were different – or appeared to be but there is a pattern there, too. Then came the golf course fire last week."
"Not much to go on there, Laurel."
"I know. You need to think like an arsonist to see the pattern – and I was out of the country for all of these fires. Somebody will die in tonight's fire."
"Why?"
"The first fire was eight weeks ago on a Tuesday. The second fire six weeks ago on a Wednesday. Then the commercial fire on the Friday, two weeks ago. The gap between each fire halves and the fires are on subsequent days of the week. That makes today the next fire date and with it being 'zero' in the pattern, I see it being something big and traumatic. He thinks he's got away with four fires without anything appearing in the papers or hearing anything through his own sick grapevine."
The investigator nodded approvingly.
"It sounds good, but I don't see what we can do about it. The city is huge."
"You got a map of the city?" Laurel demanded.
"Yeah..."
Laurel took the map and spread it across the capacious hood of the Dodge SUV. She then began to mark out four dots, one for each of the pasty fires. Then she marked in lines and formed an inverted 'L'.
"I hope I am wrong here but try this. She drew a line horizontally from the gold course fire which was halfway down the vertical line. She stopped the line out near where the 805 met the 163. The lines formed a capital letter 'F'.
"Well, I'll be damned!" the investigator announced.
"The fire tonight has to be somewhere along that line. I can see several potential targets."
"Okay, how would you have set each fire?"
Laurel handed over several sheets of notepaper filled with text and some drawings.
"Here."
The investigator examined the pages and deduced that the girl before him knew a lot about starting fires. He could also see where the fire investigations needed to be reopened on all four fires.
"I'm going to have a hell of a job arguing this up the line, but I will get the fire investigations reopened but by the time they show we have an arsonist in the city, he will have struck again if you are right."
"I know fire. I know how to create it. I know how to nurture it. I know how to harness it. But I also respect it as the moment you don't, it will turn on you."
Laurel pulled down her high-necked T-shirt to reveal the neck and shoulder on the left side. Arson Investigator Terril Mayworth grimaced at the scar tissue which had formed, recognising it for what it was.
"I failed to respect it, and it turned on me – I almost died. I know my trade and while I was trained to inflict hurt on the enemy, I would never harm an innocent person just to get off on the sight of my creation consuming a building or consuming flesh and bone."
"Leave it with me, Laurel, and I hope you are wrong tonight."
"Thank you."
With that, the Arson Investigator climbed into his SUV and drove off leaving Laurel to worry about that evening's possible events.
That night...
Mesa College
It was decided that a change of scene would be nice.
An impromptu visit to a much nicer neighbourhood to show the flag, so to speak. The trio enjoyed the eight-mile ride as the sun began to set. It was a pleasant evening to ride and the road networks were clear of major traffic. As for the Mesa College campus, it was amazing. Naturally, those of college age knew all about the local vigilantes and many were fans – especially of the relevant male or female who matched their sexual orientation. One of the students on campus had started a website dedicated to the 'West Coast Vigilantes' which featured every publicly available image and video of Fusion in Los Angeles and San Diego. Therefore, their appearance that evening after dark was a welcome one. As they pulled up in the main parking lot, they were surrounded by fans keen to get a close look at the motorcycles as well as the riders with their curvy thighs and in the case of Trauma, his curvy muscles.
Young Lilim was a little unnerved about the large crowd, especially after the previous evening. It was also becoming noisy as people tried to gain the attention of primarily Lilith for photos but also Lilim and Trauma. Indeed, Trauma outdid himself by dismounting and posing for shots and selfies much to Lilith's annoyance.
After a good twenty minutes of posing, the vigilantes left the parking lot.
..._...
The trio headed east up Beagle Street for half a dozen blocks before they pulled over into a small commercial park with a strip mall.
It was the type of place, where some twats would choose to cause trouble after dark so ensuring that said twats knew that Fusion could randomly appear out of the darkness without warning as they had done that evening. Lilith was leading with Lilim behind, and they turned into the site before heading towards the strip mall nearer the far end. Trauma as usual was ensuring they were safe from attack and he turned off the road last and as he followed the girls, his attention was drawn to the first building on the site, a dentist which was currently closed considering the late hours. Though all lights appeared off, there was a faint glow visible through the darkened windows that reminded Trauma of something, but his mind was not joining the dots, so he simply shrugged and rode on.
It turned out that some of the students had chosen to follow the vigilante trio and after several minutes three cars pulled into the strip mall and a dozen students appeared, some filming events on their phones. A news camera van emblazoned with logos for NBC 7 San Diego also appeared and began to film events which to Trauma did appear out of place, at least until two identical motorcycles pulled up on the street along with a van. The red Ducati Monster 797 motorcycles carried the youths from the previous night who had caused trouble and then fled. The van disgorged eight large men. The students quickly figured out what was going on and stepped away from the Fusion vigilantes to give them space. Phones were raised, ready to capture an interesting fight.
Nobody was to be disappointed by the flow of events which would blow everyone's minds.
Olite Court
Cammie was resting, catching up on a tech order for the Osprey.
Lying on the couch beside her, Bailey was fiddling with her phone while Laurel sat brooding in a comfortable chair. She had been glued to NBC 7 News all evening, catching the hourly news bulletins for any hint of a major fire. She glowered at the TV as it switched to a live broadcast from Kearny Mesa. At first, she paid the broadcast little attention, but Bailey jumped up – naturally, she was a big fan of Fusion. Despite being rescued (captured) by Fusion, Laurel had little real interest in vigilantes. She knew that Fusion operated in San Diego and Los Angeles, to the north. She also had a small idea who might be behind some of the masks, but she kept silent about her ideas in case she attracted the wrath of Hit Girl – something she was not stupid enough to want to attract. Without knowing it, her eyes began to see things which her mind started to process and catalogue, such was her ingrained training. It took a few moments for her mind to process the information and then to sound an internal alarm that something was very wrong. Laurel stood up and moved closer to the giant wall-mounted TV, pushing Bailey out the way.
"Hey!"
Laurel looked past the five armour-clad individuals and the eight men who appeared to be beating the crap out of each other. The three Fusion vigilantes were fighting ten individuals who had just arrived and despite the skilled fighting, Laurel's eyes were seeking more. There! She caught an orangey glow coming from the darkened windows of a building just a few yards beyond where the fighting was underway. It was a flickering glow. Her eyes caught the smoke coming from the roof of the building which was not easy to see in the darkness above the floodlit commercial park. Then her eyes clocked a battered panel van which might have once been blue but was now mostly rust. It was parked right opposite the main door into the building, about a dozen yards away. She also noticed a trio of 220-litre containers labelled as water sealant – an extremely flammable substance. Her mind screamed facts at her which she did not want to believe and which she knew were very, very bad.
"No! No! No!" she muttered.
Her mind was racing. She could see the smouldering building. She could see the potential sources of sympathetic explosion. She could see how many were about to die at worst or be burned at best.
"No! They need to evacuate..."
Then she froze as the fighting moved towards the smouldering building and the main doors. One of the large men was kicked by one of the Fusion vigilantes and he fell backwards but he regained his feet before being kicked again and...
"Not the door! Not the door!"
But it was too late. At first nothing seemed to happen as the glass door shattered but there was a barely audible sound of air begin sucked in and it was possible to see light debris moving across the parking lot and into the smouldering building via the shattered door. Then, just as Cammie moved to see what Laurel was getting so agitated about, the entire TV screen flared as a massive billowing cloud of what seemed to be smoke emerged from the building, shattering the glazing, closely followed by what could only be described as a mass of fire blasting out horizontally from the building's windows which covered a good one-eighty degrees. The flames exploded out towards the camera, the watching students, and the fighting vigilantes. Cammie was stunned by the shear horror as the shockwave took dozens of people off their feet and the fire enveloped the large man and one of the female vigilantes. Then the three barrels of water sealant detonated sympathetically as the heat rose and a massive fireball expanded in all directions along with the perfectly timed detonation of the rusty panel van which sent flaming liquid across the street into a residential property.
"Mother of God!" Cammie exclaimed as she saw the reporter enveloped in flame and she tore her eyes away from the woman who had collapsed to the ground writhing in agony.
The broadcast suddenly cut back to the studio and a visibly horrified anchorman who was completely lost for words.
Beagle Street
Within minutes of the explosions, Engine 23, Engine 28, Engine 36, Medic 36, and Battalion 3 were racing to the scene of what had been reported as a fire following an explosion with several buildings ablaze.
Engine 28 was the first on the scene and they immediately requested urgent paramedic and ambulance support as they swiftly identified a major incident evolving. The dentist building was billowing flames high into the air and the car workshop to the north was also blazing furiously with the associated risk of exploding fuel in the vehicles. Two residential properties across the street were ablaze along with the strip mall which had taken the brunt of the detonating water sealant. It was a firefighter's nightmare – maybe not their worst nightmare but still a nightmare. But they were professionals, and they soon had hydrants connected to the fire trucks and hoses playing water onto the various fires while teams of firefighters in full breathing apparatus fought to rescue those trapped or injured by the flames. Much to their surprise they found themselves receiving assistance from singed vigilantes in body armour.
Fire was a threat to all and saving lives was essential. In a remarkable turn of circumstances, Trauma found himself hauling out burnt students with the assistance of one of the interlopers who it seemed valued innocent lives. Most of their supporting squad of large men had been killed by the fiery explosions or badly burnt at best, so the fight was over. It was Lilith who had been caught by the initial backdraft and her combat suit was blackened with soot but despite the extreme heat, the combat suit had held. However, she and Lilim had been forced to hastily relocate their three motorcycles for fear their fuel and weapons could detonate in the heat. They were forced to relocate to the far northwest corner which was as far away as they could get from the billowing flames and black smoke.
There were at least a dozen dead and that was only at first glance – there would be more, they knew.
..._...
Ultimately, the firefighters needed a good eight hours to fully douse the fires.
By then as the sun was coming up on the new day, the commercial park was a blackened, twisted mess of burnt-out cars scattered around burnt-out buildings and the wreckage of detritus related to every fire. The firefighters had begun placing small yellow flags where there was a corpse so the bodies could be recorded by investigators and then recovered for autopsy.
Arson Investigator Terril Mayworth had been onsite since three A.M. and his team had arrived two hours later. He had thoroughly briefed his team that they should not rule out anything as they searched the site for a cause. He did not lead them by informing them of Laurel's warnings, although his own boss knew. Mayworth wanted his team to make up their own minds as whether the fire had been criminal, negligent, or just plain accidental. At dead on eight o'clock, Mayworth nodded at the latest arrival and waved at the police officer controlling access to let the teenager onto the site. He could see that the girl was visibly shaken, and it was obvious that she had not slept much. She had called him within minutes of the fire beginning and they he had taken down notes on everything she had observed. Mayworth had visited NBC himself to obtain a copy of the news segment, and he had been rewarded with a high-definition video file as his first item of evidence for the case. He cast a glance at one of the blackened, twisted shapes that had once been a living human being knowing that it was the female reporter. He had also obtained the tape from the cameraman who had kept filming like any good cameraman should before he had been forced to back away, badly burnt and choking on the black smoke.
Laurel proceeded to take the investigator through what she had seen prior to the backdraft. Mayworth could see that the youngster was visibly traumatised by what she had seen despite her being extremely knowledgeable on what had occurred. However, it was also obvious that the girl was familiar with death as she did not do more than glance at the burnt corpses. Mayworth was also convinced that there was a serial pyromaniac on the loose in San Diego and the evidence had been staring them in the face, but nobody had seen it, not him, and not his team.
There was going to be hell to pay once the news got out.