Cal counted the blazing bodies as they ran, screaming, from the main entrance of the orphanage. Thirteen...fourteen...
He chuckled to himself as he sketched the burning building in a small notebook, you know - for posterity. For keeps.
Sirens were approaching from somewhere. This was A BAD THING.
From his pocket, he fished out the bottle of perfume he'd sent to the girl at the orphanage. It had been returned to him with her address scribbled out.
Well, this would teach the bitch, Cal thought. The other victims were...unfortunate - collateral damage he called it - but it made such a pretty picture.