My name is Kathleen Kelly, but most of my friends call me Kat. My parents moved from Ireland when I was around six years old. I'm twenty-four now, turning twenty-five in June. I talk in a normal American accent, but people say that when I'm really angry, [which can be often because I have a very short fuse.] I yell in an Irish accent. All I can remember about Ireland was the streaming meadows of flowers and the clean, fresh air. The total opposite of Ripstin City, where I live.
Ripstin is like New York in comparison to the number of skyscrapers, and it can be really smoggy downtown. But I like living here. There's not much crime, which is good. I mean, you get your crazies every once in a while, but besides that, it's not so bad. Of course, you wouldn't see me walking around downtown at night, if you get what I mean.
I work as a police-woman in the upper side of the city, though with some cases I have to go all around the city for clues. The people at the station call me 'the Rebel' because of my shocking dark-red hair and the fact that I like to do things on my own call, which can be good or bad. I get into trouble a lot with the Chief, but he keeps me on the force because I'm pretty much always right about the case. Even if I seem like I'm crazy at times and that there was no way I could be right.
I'm a little tall and my burgundy hair is cut short at my neck. It's pretty shaggy, too. I also have dark green eyes and a bright, smart-arse grin. That's about all I can think of about me for the moment. Let's get on with the story!
I shoved the keys into the ignition in pure anger. First, I wake up late. Then Lai, that stupid black-and-white kitten, got into some cookie batter, splashing the goo all over the house.... And then, the Chief calls to tell me that I need to get over to the station immediately. The worst part is... It's only 8:30AM. Could this day start out any worse?!
Taking deep breaths, I stormed into the Police station. "Heads are going to roll, " a fellow police officer mumbled.
I turned to see that the comment was made by Luke, my arch-nemesis. We've hated each other since I beat him in a fight at the Academy.
I scowled at him and growled in an Irish accent, "Yeah, and it's gunna be yurs if ya don't hush your mouth." He backed off, scared that I might actually be angry enough to do it.
"KATHLEEN!" The chief bellowed. You could see a smirk on Luke's face as I rushed into the chiefs office. "Yes, chief?" I asked, keeping my cool. If there is one thing that makes the big boss angry, it's when I'm in one of my 'moods', threatening the other officers.
"There is a huge fire in downtown. Go check it out." he said through his teeth.
As I drove to the scene, I realized that there was something suspicious about this fire... There was one just last week, same circumstances. There was a victim, too. Except that the victim was five blocks away, burnt on the inside out. The guys at the station keep telling me that it's just coincidence, that it would be impossible for the perpetrator to of burnt someone like that on his own. On the guys tag it says, 'ACCIDENTAL CHEMICAL BURNING.' But there were no chemicals around the victim.
I know I'm right. I just know it.
[Meanwhile, somewhere far, far away, about thirty minutes earlier]
A man dressed in black walked around downtown. He hummed some jazz as he pulled his sunglasses on. He had jet-black hair and, underneath the glasses, ice-blue eyes. There was a slight olive-tone to his skin that glimmered in the spring sun.
The man looked onto the building with an evil grin. "Perfect." He sang to himself. Still humming, he touched the building with fire-red hands, the bricks starting to melt. How is this possible? Only he knows.
Soon, the whole building was in flames. The man walked away as people ran away screaming.
"Now to watch the show." He grinned.
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