It was night out, and it was therefore the perfect time for her to make her move on him. He, the one who was responsible for the death of her beloved sister. Her only sister. Her sister, who deserved to have her death avenged. And she was the one who would do it.
The sun was just beginning to set as Davy changed out of his clothes. It had been a long day. A week of hard work, appearances, and apartment hunting had left him tired. Part of him was uncertain about moving out of the Pad. But he knew it was something that had to be done eventually.
Now that he could afford it, moving out seemed like the logical step. Mike and Micky were staying, unwilling to move away from the Pad which had been a part of their lives and a safe haven for a long time. For some reason, Davy felt as though he needed to move on.
He took off his shirt and pants and changed into his pajamas, pulling the shirt over his head. Suddenly, there was a crashing sound, and the sound of broken glass was heard.
Instinctively, Davy turned towards the noise and was shocked to see something had come through his window and was lying on the ground. He glanced down at it. Before he had gotten close enough to the object to determine what it was, he felt a rush of fear go through him.
Acting on instinct, he turned and ran as quickly as he could out of the room and into the living room, shutting the door behind him. Mike and Micky were sitting in the living room, and looked at him strangely.
Mike looked up from the newspaper. "Is there something wrong, Davy?"
"Mike…I" Davy began, but didn't get a chance to finish. There was a weird noise from behind him. "Run!" he shouted, though he wasn't certain why. Quickly, Micky and Mike stood up and ran out of the room.
The Pad began to fill with a weird, pink colored smoke. The three of them ran out into the yard and watched as the noxious smoke poured out of the windows.
The plan had failed. She had tried her hardest, but she had failed. How had he known that what she had thrown would be harmful? There must be something she had missed. Cursing herself, she repeated the vow she had stated at her sister's funeral. The vow that she would never let her murderer live.
"Far as we can tell the gas is all out now. You're lucky you got out alive, Mr. Jones," the fireman told Davy.
"What was it?" he asked, frowning.
"Can't be certain," the man replied. "Whatever it was it was harmful. You're very lucky to be alive."
Davy nodded, but waived off the compliment. "Thanks," he told the fireman. "Thanks for coming down 'ere so late at night." The fireman nodded.
"Davy, do you have any idea what that was all about?" Micky asked, stepping up behind him. Davy frowned.
"I have no idea, Micky," he replied. "But I'm not going to let it rob me of some sleep." He turned and headed back into the Pad.
Micky turned to Mike, who had until then been talking to a policeman. "Any ideas?" he asked.
"None," Mike replied. "The police don't know anything." He frowned deeply. "I can't think of who would do this to Davy."
Micky shook his head, sighing. "Me either," he replied, and turned to head back into the Pad.
Mike stood a moment afterwards and scanned the area, as if he hoped to find the person who had attempted his friend's murder. But there was no sign of them, of course, and he turned and followed the other two back into the Pad. Behind him, the policemen and fire trucks began to drive off.
