Chapter 35: The Burning Torch

[Chapter 35: The Burning Torch]

It was nighttime.

Ian drove the newsroom's production van with a camera in tow.

He parked near Tarrant Ave, glancing around to ensure there were no security cameras in the vicinity.

Using his skills of perception, he checked out the house across the street; it belonged to Garrick.

There was no one home.

The streets were quiet and empty.

Ian carried a box of gasoline to Garrick's front door.

He pulled out a wire and gently worked it into the lock.

For his second copy ability, he had chosen lock picking!

He couldn't deny how useful this skill was for undercover work, which is why Ian had specially met with a reputed locksmith who could open safes.

He discovered that his own skills had little to do with the locksmith's level, and more with his own ability rating.

At that moment, he could only open regular locks, opening a safe was out of reach -- though with his perception, some safes might be accessible, but using that ability drained too much energy.

No matter; it was enough for now, since he didn't intend to crack any safes anyway.

Easily unlocking the door, Ian began setting up.

He quickly prepared everything, closed the door behind him, and returned to the van, enjoying a cigar as he waited patiently.

...

At one o'clock in the morning, Garrick finally returned.

He hummed a cheerful tune as he shed his coat, heading for the fridge to grab a drink while turning on the TV.

As a member of the mob, one o'clock was far from bedtime for him.

While watching TV, the lights in the house began to flicker erratically.

Garrick glanced around in confusion, observing the alternating shadows and light with irritation.

"Damn power company, their voltage is terrible!" he grumbled.

At that moment, he furrowed his brow and sniffed the air curiously.

"What's that smell?"

Garrick stood up, following the scent to the kitchen and pushed through the door.

Bang!

A large bucket of gasoline drenched him from head to toe.

"Fuck!" Garrick swore.

As an experienced mobster, Garrick instantly sensed something was amiss.

He quickly reached for his gun at his waist, nervously scanning the area.

Not far off a power line sparked dangerously.

"No!" Garrick yelled in terror.

Without thinking, he hurled a mop at the live wire.

The wire jolted a few times, raising Garrick's anxiety, but just then, the room went dark.

They lost power.

"Whew!" Garrick let out a sigh of relief.

Just when he thought he had escaped a close call, there was a soft thud as a window opened beside him.

He turned his head to look.

Then he saw a spark flying outside the window.

It was a cigar tumbling through the air, cutting through the darkness with its tempting glow, before falling down.

Boom!

Flames burst upward.

...

It turned out starting a fire by mixing electricity with gasoline wasn't as simple as it seemed.

Ian wasn't a grim reaper and couldn't pull off any fancy tricks.

At least not at that moment.

Compared to gasoline, gas explosions were easier to create.

But that could hurt innocent bystanders, and it didn't meet Ian's journalistic needs.

At this moment, he tossed aside the cigar and quickly returned to the van, hoisting the camera.

...

Meanwhile, inside Garrick's house, flames erupted brightly.

Ian rushed over, kicked the door open, and aimed the camera inside.

"Sir, are you okay?"

He saw Garrick running out, engulfed in flames.

Ian filmed Garrick while backing away, speaking into the microphone, "This is Ian Carr from the Los Angeles Herald, and I am witnessing a self-immolation incident firsthand.

Let's interview the victim."

He pointed the microphone at Garrick, who was stumbling toward him.

"Sir, can you explain the cause of this fire?

Was it due to your negligence?

Or a short circuit?

What do you think?"

Garrick, completely consumed by flames, screamed frantically, "Help me!"

He lunged toward Ian.

Ian pulled back the microphone and steadied the camera, taking quick steps back.

"As we can see, this man's life appears to be in serious danger.

I don't think he has much longer."

Avoiding Garrick's lunge, he raised the microphone to Garrick again.

"Don't you have something to say to the public in your last moments, sir?"

"No!" Garrick shouted in despair.

Ian shook his head regretfully.

"He seems reluctant to talk to me."

Garrick cried out, "Help! Help me!"

Ian spoke with calmness, "Sir, please stay calm.

We need to find the root of this incident to prevent similar unfortunate events in the future.

Your suffering, while painful, will remind the public to avoid playing with fire, perhaps even saving countless lives!"

Garrick looked at Ian helplessly.

The flames burned away his strength, dragging him down.

He collapsed to the ground, crawling forward and reaching out toward Ian.

For a moment, Ian considered lighting his cigar off Garrick's flames.

But he wasn't certain if Garrick was able to grab him, and that would be cruel.

He had his limits.

So he resisted the urge.

He pointed the camera at Garrick, continuing to shoot.

"Cherish your last moments of life."

Garrick used his last bit of strength to say, "It's you...you did this..."

Ian sighed, "Edited news isn't raw anymore... you shouldn't say that."

He continued to back away, his expression calm and cold as he watched Garrick.

...

By then, someone in the neighborhood finally noticed what was happening.

Lights in nearby houses flicked on, and people poured out to look at Garrick, who wailed in agony in the street.

Shocked cries erupted from the crowd.

"Oh my God! It's Garrick!"

"Isn't that the annoying guy?

What happened to him?"

"Can't you see? He's getting burned!"

"That looks pretty bad."

Ian chuckled lightly, "You really don't have many friends, do you, Mr. Garrick?"

Watching Garrick, who had transformed from a white man to a charred shell, Ian set the camera aside and picked up his digital camera, snapping shots of Garrick while saying, "Can you pose for the camera, sir?"

Garrick wasn't completely dead yet; the flames blinded him, yet he still struggled to reach out.

Like a torch!

"Great action!

The public will love this shot; can you smile?

Say cheese!

Perfect!

We'll say you're smiling."

Ian rapidly clicked the shutter, capturing Garrick's fiery pose.

A burst of righteous energy surged as a young man rushed over with a fire extinguisher, pouncing on Garrick while yelling, "Damn it, what are you doing? Come on, save him!"

Ian graciously let his attitude slide.

He stepped aside, continuing to film the rescue attempt.

His focus remained sharp, displaying the absolute professionalism of a dedicated journalist.

*****

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