Apartment Fire Claims Eight Lives - Investigation Underway
TORONTO, ONT - Investigators are looking into the causes of an apartment fire that has claimed the lives of at least 8 people. It took twelve firefighters over 3 hours to control the stubborn blaze.
Fire crews were called to a low-rise building at 87 Rockdale Ave. around 3am this morning. "One minute I looked out the window and everything was fine, then I turned back a few minutes later and the whole place was up in flames," claimed witness John Rochester who alerted authorities to the fire.
The initial investigation has not revealed a cause for the fire that swept through the building in a matter of minutes, however faulty wiring is suspected to have played a part. Police have labeled the fire accidental, though foul play has not been completely ruled out.
The identities of the deceased have not been released. So far, no survivors have been found in the rubble, however rescuers are still combing the wreckage for possible survivors.
Anyone with information in regards to this tragedy is urged to contact the police as soon as possible.
Last edited by Phoenix on 13 Sep 2011, 03:58, edited 1 time in total.
11-Month old baby found alive in apartment building wreckage
TORONTO, ONT - Rescuers were shocked yesterday afternoon when they discovered a baby amid the rubble of 87 Rockdale Ave., which had been gutted by fire the previous morning. Firefighters had combed the rubble for hours, bringing the final body count to 11 before the baby girl was found.
"We don't know how we missed her, but that she's alive and well is a miracle," said firefighter Gregory Young who found the baby girl. "She must have been in just the right place when the building collapsed, because when I moved a beam, she was just there. Dirty, but alive."
The girl was rushed to the hospital where, despite her ordeal, she was treated only for mild dehydration. Although covered in dirt, she seems to have suffered no ill effects from the blaze that claimed the lives of almost a dozen inhabitants.
The identity of this 'miracle' child still remains a mystery. Friends and neighbors of the late residents of 87 Rockdale Ave. claim there were no young children living in the building, let alone a baby. For now, the firefighters have affectionately dubbed the girl 'Phoenix'.
"It's not every day we get to witness this kind of miracle," Young continued. "Hopefully they'll find the little Phoenix's family. She got lucky this time, so we can only hope that run of luck keeps up for her."
Hi, my name is Phoenix Grigori. After my parents - the adopted ones - died when I was 11, my shrink told me it would be a good idea to keep a journal. Rebellious ***** I was then, I never bothered; I never knew how to start. Besides, journals were too girly and clichéd and I didn't need one to help me through my issues. Or... I didn't then.
Now? I do.
I started this diary thing with newspaper clippings I kept from when I was a baby. From exactly 23 years ago today... That was the start of my life, this is the end. Or is it the beginning? Either way, I think it's fitting.
It's been about a month now since Habren sunk her fangs into me - literally. Knowing then what I know now, I'd still have followed her. Maybe I don't have a full time job anymore, but I have better friends. I have some old lady's apartment that I'm kind of squatting in... The decor is terrible and it makes me feel like I'm living in the 70s, but it's not bad. It's better than a park bench.
I guess I started writing this because the power went out in my shitty little apartment and so couldn't check CrowNet or watch TV. The stupid, smutty novel I'm reading is stupid and smutty, so that's out, and I don't feel like putting on presentable enough clothing (i.e. a bra) to leave. Feeling like a second class citizen yet, Diary? Well, I really hope nobody important ever gets their hands on this... It just wouldn't do to have people know that the fearless leader (ha ha) of the Hellhounds is too damn lazy to put on a bra...
... Then again, I could always use that as a fun fact. "Meet Phoenix: that mouthy ***** nobody really likes. She reads badly written, corny romance novels and secretly hopes she'll live one someday. She's also a bra-hating feminist (guys, watch your squishy bits)."
Now back to that fearless leader bit. Not quite true, bub... I'm not scared of being killed, which is good since I'm pretty sure a lot of people would just love to see me dead... I'm more scared of how it happens. I don't mind being disliked because I stick to my principles, but the magnitude of that hate - if it's enough to send me packing... that would scare me. Then again, I know I have people who would fight for rotten little old me, and that makes me smile. It's nice to know there's still honour among thieves.
Gross girly gushing time: guys keeping asking me out, which is fine and all; I don't mind friendly company. Problem is, they probably expect more from me. I come off as pretty easy, or so I have been told (again, fine). What's not good is not knowing what the hell is going on with... him. I asked him if he wanted to move in with me - other bedroom, but I doubt he'll spend much time in there. Am I crazy? I think I might [horrible L word] him. I think I'm some kind of masochist. I think if he ever reads this, I'll kill him. Dear god, Asmodeus, if you're reading this, you're dead. No, worse than dead: I'm never having sex with you again.
Which is somehow worse...
... I think.
Anyway. I'm done rambling about things I can't - I won't change. The power is still out, so maybe I'll go put that bra on and take dad's old bike out for spin... The poor baby has been in that storage room for months.
I'm engaged. I'm not entirely sure how that whole situation went from "LOL, yeah, we're srs beanz gettin' married" to "So, you two are engaged? When's the wedding!?"
I blame Nick. ******* Nick Bowstrong. Why is he such a pain in the ***? I'm never telling him anything about my personal life again. Ever. And I'm keeping the leg I hacked off him as a trophy; I'm going to taxidermy the goddamn thing and use it to beat him with the next time he pisses me off.
That's really creepy and gross, but I didn't drag the thing all the way back here from the Quarantine zone for shits and giggles...
As awkward as this whole situation is, Mal said he was getting me a ring... tonight... I don't know if that's a good idea. What the hell is Asmo going to do when he sees me wearing an engagement ring...? I don't know if I even want to know. I'm still irritated enough with him that I'm not sure I even care - but I know that's not fair... I know it's hypocritical.
Except it's not, really, since I haven't done anything wrong. Yet.
At least I have somewhere to stay if he flips...
Ick. This sucks, even though it kinda rocks and I'm scared, but I'm excited and...
Reality bites. I was engaged and now I'm not. Reigning in my impulsiveness is definitely going to be my new month's resolution. I'm not going to get into all the tedious detail of how this is - again - Nick's fault, but it is. Basically he told Asmo about my engagement via text message. Obviously that didn't go well; I heard something on the news about the Quarantine zone being smashed to pieces, which I'm guessing was him.
He never hurt me, even though he wanted to, which made me feel worse about the whole engagement thing. If he had hit me, at least I could have told myself that I was better off without him....
... But I'm not. I'm so much better with him. Even though he looks like something from a B-list horror movie right now, I still love him (and I think he still loves me!). So he'd better not die; dying would be bad. Having him fighting with my entire bloodline would be way bad.
I've been carving Nick up like a Thanksgiving turkey since. It feels so damn good. Tonight, he managed to shoot me and... it didn't even hurt. It just felt like fiery encouragement to seriously wound the ********. Okay, it did really, really hurt, but it still makes me want to stab him into a bloody pulp.
Even though I royally screwed up with the premature engagement thing, I made a fantastic friend. Mal's a genuinely nice guy; so I think I did pretty well.
So... other than getting shot, tonight was a good night. I'll end the rambling there.
I tried... I tried to warn them, even though it was a bit too late. All it got me was getting chewed out by Habren. ****.
Now they're dead. All of them. I really, really wish I hadn't told Mircea I wanted to see him dead... But what's been said can't be unsaid. I'll stick with it. I'll just ignore the familial unit for the most part until things blow over. They obviously don't want my help, even though they desperately need it. If they ask for my help, I'll give it. Until they do... I'm staying out of things for the most part.
I picked the keys of The Necropolis off Amara when she died. The least I can do is keep the place secure while she's gone...
I really wish I could muster up the... anything to care that Asmodeus is dead. I can't. He threatened my Hounds, he lied to me and he stomped on the kindness I showed him; he deserved to die. I loved him because I thought I saw something in him that was worth loving beneath all that posturing and perversion; I was wrong. It hurt being the one to find him, the one to give the order to attack... and then watch that bullet finish him off.
But it was necessary.
The idiot turned business into a personal affair, and I really don't take kindly to that kind of thing. If he keeps up with it when he comes back, we'll kill him again... much quicker this time, because I won't look the other way when I see him. I'm a little sad about it all, but I made my peace with knowing I would have to kill him a long time ago. I learned my lesson: check all personal baggage at the door.
Especially when that baggage is something you should be shooting, and happens to be humping that one bag everyone's had a go at. Which is nasty. I really hope his genitals stay in the Shadow Realm... or fall off. Are vampires immune to STDs?
On the other end of the spectrum, I'm ecstatic. The Hounds are getting so much better, so much more organized and so much deadlier. I love the feeling I get when the job is done. And now we have four more - maybe more. Maybe I am a money-grabbing *****, but the sheer joy of doing a job well done is so... sheer and joyful. It makes me feel so damn accomplished!
We're awesome.
And scary (or something).
On another note, Habren and Mircea came back. I'll be avoiding them.
I should probably name you. Naming you would be a good idea, because Diary is just an awful name. Maybe I'll call you William.
I like that. Hi William, I'm Phoenix, and I'm the one who scars your fleshy pages with ink every once in a while! God I'm a sadistic *****... Can I call you Willy for short? Yes, yes I can. Why? Because you're a book!
Anyways, stuff has happened. Lots and lots of stuff. Which I probably should write out in minute detail, but I won't. So... I got engaged, died, came back, bought Lazarus and kicked lots of ***. Go me! I'm rather happy with life at the moment, despite the clammies calamities of war and su-
Kole came. I forget what I was on about. Later, Willy.
This is going to be a REALLY short entry, but I dragged this damn book -- I mean, my precious, bestest friend Willy all the way to maison numeros deux, so I might as well write something. So here's me writing... something.
All in all, I died again. That was fun; I got out in what turned out to be 15 hours, which means I absolutely rock my own socks (or would if I were wearing socks). They claimed it was for my bounty, but it's ********. Surprisingly, I'm okay with this. I know I have the balls to not hide behind a bounty; if they don't, it's totally on them. And it kinda makes me giggle. On the inside... silently...
Enough of that melodramatic crap and on to happier things! I have the best boyfriend ever. EVER. He doesn't even have to do anything to make me happy. He just has to sit there and look at me and I turn into this giddy, disgusting little schoolgirl with the most awkwardly obvious crush. Except... we're pretty much married (or the undead equivalent), so I guess it's gone beyond a simple crush. More like seriously deranged adoration. And he's gorgeous, too. Every night when I wake up by him, I get this little happy fluttery feeling like I just won the dating lottery.
Things haven't been as easy since Nick came back and stirred **** up (he really should just die), but we work it out. I trust him and he trusts me, so we can disregard the stupidity that Nick spews. I'm very proud that we've managed to not go to bed mad at each other; that's kinda my thing... going to bed mad means you'll wake up resentful... and I'd rather wake up with the aforementioned fluttery lottery gooey mush feeling. I like that feeling... I like him more. Naw... I love him.
Maybe that wasn't as short as I thought it'd be...
