Faith was up way to friggin early. It was EIGHT ante-meridian and for the love of Jobe, who ever he was, she couldn’t figure out why the hell she was at this morning’s round table discussion. It was a daily ritual where Mr. Big Editor assigned stories and divided responsibility amongst the eager journalists. Faith wasn’t really all that eager, but it was mandatory to show up at least once a week, even though she usually followed her own leads and brought home Bacon wrapped in gold. Damn office politics. 

With a cup of coffee slowly cooling in it’s purple ceramic mug in-front of her, Faith was the very picture of a morning person. Hair hidden under a cap, college sweatshirt pulled over baggy jeans, all she needed was a pair of sunglasses to finish the look.  But she couldn’t wear those, bossman’s policy. Unless she had a doctor’s note, and after glancing up at the hideous fluorescent bulbs peeking through a crack in the plastic cover, Faith seriously thought about phoning her doc right then and there. “Danovan! Wakie, wakie. I do realize it’s not your usual noon time wakeup call, but how about finding it within yourself to join the rest of us eh? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”  The smell of sarcasm hit Faith full on as she jerked in her seat, looking away from the mesmerizing lamp, and suddenly realizing why bugs fly towards the dangerously hot bulbs. “Um…S’okay no need to bribe me, I’m just glad to be included.” Faith did find something within herself, the ability to put on her best shit eating grin as she picked up her cup of rapidly cooling coffee and taking a miserable sip.

Her editor did NOT like Faith, and everyone knew it. Then again the man probably didn’t like anyone. Standing at barely five foot six, almost everyone was taller, and that just got to him more than bad writing. Granted he hid it well by jacking up his office chair as high as it would go, buying small furniture so he would appear bigger, and encouraging women to wear “comfortable” shoes, not that Faith ever pointed out their height difference. Nope, she wasn’t that cruel, her definition of comfortable shoes just happened to require the heel be at least three inches tall, that’s all.   Her being snarky probably didn’t help either, but with her steady contributions to the front page guaranteed her job safety till someone better came along. And that’d be the day, Faith thought idly while watching the newest intern fiddle with the pencil in his fingers. Jittery, he didn’t drink the Decaf. Bastard.  “…possible arson. Danovan that one’s yours.”  “Huh?” Shit, that came out loud, and Faith blinked, lowering her cup so her field of vision was unobstructed as she looked at the short man on the other side of the room. “Oh right, THAT one, okay no problem…”

No problem, since when the hell did she cover property destruction? Unless a were was caught doing it, or a vampire was seen playing with matches…What the hell? The Mr. Jittery Intern was nice enough to hand her a folder as the conversation moved on. It didn’t hold much. Address, list of contacts, some eye witness accounts. Not many, the house didn’t even seem to be occupied, no one got hurt yada yada blah blah blah… JOY. Arriana Izzano was the owner, sounded exotic. An empty house burning down at night lighting up the sky with memories blazing in smoke and ashes. Poetic, and hell if she tried hard enough, Faith could spin it.. Hmph. What could it hurt, right?  Folder in hand, Faith managed to drag herself back to her fortress of a desk. Yawning while she dialed “Sparky’s” number. 

The Fire Marshal was a grouch, tough, stern, uptight, all the wonderful things that were negated by him being a high school buddy of her father. A fact Faith tended to milk for everything it was worth by bribing the man with pizza and Jolt Cola (to which he seemed to be addicted.)  After going through the pre requisite secretary and her happy, preppy voice, finally the familiar tired surly voice of a man came on the phone. Sounded like he drank decaf by accident too. “Heya Sparky, how’s the world’s best Fire Marshal doin? If you have a minute or two I’d like to ask you a few questions about that fire last night. How about lunch say pizza?”  If only all things were that easy.