𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓 to his lower back as he stands beneath the sweltering sun. when holden returned from georgia, he had expected a reprieve from the heat. but he only traded muggy atlanta for searing shreveport.
yesterday the bsu received a call from the shreveport police department requesting their input on an ongoing series of arsons. they were out the door as soon as the last of the files made it through the fax machine. our response time can be twice as fast with our own jet, ted has enthusiastically told them on the flight out of atlanta. and as much as holden is not going to miss sleeping in airport lobbies, he isn’t used to the notion of a private jet either. he spends the flight, white - knuckled, as he reads through the task force’s file.
the file is split between a new agent and himself. still in atlanta at the time, holden had missed winston edwards joining the team. but with bill busy, he’s the obvious choice to work the case with holden.
as they stand before the burned - out remains of the selber bros. department store, holden watches as people gawk as they walk by. a crowd has gathered as people step under the crime - tape to lay flowers on the ash in commemoration. three lives were lost in the fire, including that of a child. as holden stands back and watches the crowd, he wonders if their arsonist is doing the same.
❝ he could be here now, ❞ holden points out to winston, his voice low and eyes never leaving the crowd. they had come straight from the airport to the crime scene, knowing nothing more than what had been sent to them. holden continues, ❝ — he could be anyone in this crowd. reveling in the control he has over these people, over the fire fighters and police. like berkowitz. ❞ it is the perfect opportunity to bask in the chaos he created.
𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 | @killpath !
𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙽𝚂 , & 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽𝚂 his whole early world was tamed by carnal bruises and sweat from this humid heat : his limbs wished to be rolled up , shoulders freed from the heaviness of wool and cotton sewn jacket , authority loosened up . shreveport had been a place he’s visited only once during his time in orphanage , a trip to a museum and even then winston was so close to a border , he could have said goodbye to this breathlessness in lungs , it brings memories, not very good ones ; alongside his newfound colleague , older agent looks around , those same faces were painted on mimics of his own neighbors .
back then he hadn’t realized this is how you commemorate someone , or make it feel like you’re the freak, but now no one was left alive, a family lost in match and stone, a store once painted white now almost stood in black, planks could barely hold each other like the sparks of his flashbacks . 𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙻𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙾𝙽 𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚂, it coated in mankind’s destructive purification , a color of grey could taint one’s fingers in black while taken . it’s a debris of horror , winston finally exhales in sigh of his sight, the brazen smell of ashwood : who would do such a thing ? ; he thinks to himself ❝ y’think attention excites him ? , he’s definitely put on a show ❞
there is definitely a pause after what he’s just said, ❝ i want t’ know if it was the store building he wanted to burn, or was it his wish for the family to suffocate . could be both . ❞
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