If someone were to comment on Xander’s nostalgic personality -anyone that knew him now would laugh and deny it. These days, his past was locked in a vault, never to see the light of day again. Not only for the crimes that he had committed - but because he didn’t like the memories. Only one ever hit him, and that’s when his mother died.
Until one day, he had an epiphany when looking through boxes to see what he wanted to keep, or put away in storage. One of the boxes was old, darkened in color. He was curious. He opened the box and at the top was a newspaper article, about the last home he had caught on fire. The one with the couple inside. He read the article, smirking to himself.
MASSIVE FIRE IN SANTA CRUZ KILLS TWO.
This was the summer of 2016, Xander was eighteen years old. The heat in California had been in full blast with no sign of rain. Prying himself away from his computer, he walked through his too large home. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, he knew his dad was away and anyone else employed by him was sleeping. Sneaking out of this house was no fun. He was not quiet when leaving, nearly begging for attention. A scolding, something. Nothing came and he bounced down the stairs of his house, leaving to the gas station.
While there, he bought matches and gas, explaining to the cashier that he was leaving for a camping trip and didn’t want to be stranded in the middle of nowhere when he was given a strange look. He paid, left and crossed the street, going to the nearest neighborhood he could find. Secretly, he already knew where he was going, but to an outside perspective he just looked like a kid who had gotten lost in the city.
He waited for a while, knowing that at this time and place there was a drought that was sweeping through California. This wouldn’t be that big of a travesty in his mind. This was bound to happen to someone, to anyone; He sighed quietly as he stood in front of the home. The lawn was manicured but not watered, which made this all the more easy. From his backpack he pulled out a ziplock baggie and gloves. Inside said baggie was a bird that had died earlier in the day from the same fate that he was about to relive. He put the gloves on, grabbed the bird then tossed it to the power lines, causing a spark that fell to their roof.
Quickly and silently, he used whatever dexterity he was given, climbing to the roof with the gas can, pouring a small bit on the already burning roof tiles. This caused the fire to expand with a woosh, Xander would have stayed there longer if his shoe hadn’t caught fire. Seeing him climb down the house and put the fire out with the hose, you’d think you saw a shitty special effect with how fast he was.
He turned the hose off, and by the time he made it to the end of the street, the house was now engulfed in flames. A job well done. After his little rush, he went home and waited for the news articles to flood his feed. After months of deliberation, it had been decided that the bird was what caused the fire. Xander was free. Not that anyone would have assumed it was him anyway. That’s why he never had a specific type of home or person he went after. He killed at will.
Coming back to reality in the present day, Xander hummed to himself, putting the paper up before sliding it into the “storage” pile. No one would know of his trophies, not even Katerina.
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