Pyro: Part 1

Pyro

Out of 200 trillion possible scenarios, only 2 lead to an explosion like that, and only the footnote of one made any sense in this context.



John wasn't the type to be scared. He had once detonated 20 sticks on TNT; but when surprised, any thing seems scary. He was a pyro, and all pyros know that being surprised is being afraid- both make mistakes.

John knew- fear, surprise, and mistakes killed his parents.



John's real name was Jonathan Fruller. He dropped all but “John”. He was proud: he and Teller had something in common. He never would have if his mother wasn't in the blast as well. A tear came to his eye: he tried not to think about his parents if he could avoid it.



He searched through the rubble of the recently destroyed fireworks bin. He had to get to the hill and out of the property before the cops came around and found a minor, unaccompanied, with illegal fireworks. 12 years isn't a cup of iced tea. Then again, neither are prosthetic limbs. Counting all his fingers to be safe, he found his nine had gone down to eight. “Damn it!” he whispered as he ran. Oh well, he thought, collateral damage. He finally reached the top of the hill. Looking down, he was shocked.









Bill met John as a toddler, and they were friends since. He knew John was a pyro -most of the whole town was- and he knew the dangers. His father was dead to the hobby-obsession. In fact, almost all the kids had lost their parents to it, and still were. Bill was one of the town's few exceptions.



Shirley Gretsh met John in 9th grade, at the school dance. They had (literally) bumped into each other, and after dance, went to the town's pub (the town had legalized underage drinking the year before). They drank. The town was very small, so no one drove a car. Running to the top of the hill overlooking his house, they talked. And talked. And kissed. And she took of her shirt. Glittering in the pale moonlight, she took of his clothes as he, hers.

They loved each other since.