003 [In Person... Kinda.] Let's have some fun, this beat is sick
[Any Manorites unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity of one Hayato Gokudera's place of abode, also known as Room thirty-five, will notice one rather alarming change to the premises: it's no longer there. Where did it go, one might ask?
Back up Rewind to an earlier time, a peaceful time in which B's wrath had not been invoked by that very same Hayato Gokudera by being set aflame. Under usual circumstances, B is quite difficult to irritate. Ending up with a shiny burn wound on his left shoulder, not once, but twice now in this Manor, is not a usual circumstance. But it's quite tricky to get even in a place that doesn't behave quite the same way as he would like it to. People don't stay dead here. People return completely healed, which meant one thing: Destroying the objects that B is certain would not return. Property in other words. Self immolation, Arson. Only one step removed, and in B's mind, more than justified. He wouldnt harm Gokudera himself, just his possessions. All of them.
When there aren't any prying eyes around, B creeps to Room Thirty Five, vat of leftover gasoline in hand. The boy had dynamite in his possession, B had seen that much in their last confrontation. He probably wouldn't even need the gasoline.
Fate plays into B's hands in that he was extraordinarily lucky to return to a Manor falling apart. It meant no surveillance cameras, no security alarms- nothing to protect poor little Gokudera's empty room from the blaze. Breaking the door off rusty hinges also proves to be quite easy, despite the protestations from his bad shoulder.
Gasoline is poured all over Gokudera's bed, his table, his books- anything that looks to be of significance. He contemplates leaving the Roman Numeral "XIII" behind, but there's no point. B won't allow anything to survive this game that Gokudera had started.
Satisfied that indeed, nothing will endure the blaze, B estimates that from the time he throws the match into Gokudera's room, he will have ten seconds to escape. And he does. By the time the explosion decimates the interior of Gokudera's room, B has vanished without a trace.]
Back up Rewind to an earlier time, a peaceful time in which B's wrath had not been invoked by that very same Hayato Gokudera by being set aflame. Under usual circumstances, B is quite difficult to irritate. Ending up with a shiny burn wound on his left shoulder, not once, but twice now in this Manor, is not a usual circumstance. But it's quite tricky to get even in a place that doesn't behave quite the same way as he would like it to. People don't stay dead here. People return completely healed, which meant one thing: Destroying the objects that B is certain would not return. Property in other words. Self immolation, Arson. Only one step removed, and in B's mind, more than justified. He wouldnt harm Gokudera himself, just his possessions. All of them.
When there aren't any prying eyes around, B creeps to Room Thirty Five, vat of leftover gasoline in hand. The boy had dynamite in his possession, B had seen that much in their last confrontation. He probably wouldn't even need the gasoline.
Fate plays into B's hands in that he was extraordinarily lucky to return to a Manor falling apart. It meant no surveillance cameras, no security alarms- nothing to protect poor little Gokudera's empty room from the blaze. Breaking the door off rusty hinges also proves to be quite easy, despite the protestations from his bad shoulder.
Gasoline is poured all over Gokudera's bed, his table, his books- anything that looks to be of significance. He contemplates leaving the Roman Numeral "XIII" behind, but there's no point. B won't allow anything to survive this game that Gokudera had started.
Satisfied that indeed, nothing will endure the blaze, B estimates that from the time he throws the match into Gokudera's room, he will have ten seconds to escape. And he does. By the time the explosion decimates the interior of Gokudera's room, B has vanished without a trace.]