Character Annihilation is a series of short stories based on the people of SPUF. Today’s story, the first in the series, is based on SleightSoda, resident Detonator jumper and an all round nice guy crazy enough to allow SPUFers to use his FastCo. server for events.
The light flickered a couple of times, before finally deciding it wanted to illuminate the room. The sun shining brightly outside often feared to tread in this space. A typical garage, full of mostly forgotten things, best kept out of sight. What better place was there to hide such a treasure?
Sleight slowly inched his way towards the locked cabinet, keys in hand, constantly checking behind him. Years of service had left him paranoid. He fumbled around with the lock before opening the cabinet. He removed a locked box, opened it and removed its contents, replacing the container back on the shelf and gently closing the creaking cabinet doors.
On the opposite side of the room was a sofa. Almost a relic, considering the people Sleight had invited here. But they only ever wanted a place to spend the night. Sleight plonked himself on the worn cushions and made himself comfy. He carefully unwrapped the package, folding up the paper and putting it to one side. The contents of the box was dangerous. Only stupid people would leave things like this out in the open. Plus, Sleight was a strained mercenary. He knew better.
She was glorious. The paint was crackling slightly and the tape was peeling off, but the old, decorated flare gun was still her old, bursty self. Sleight squirmed in his seat, before laying back. He stroked the shaft of the Detonator, inspecting every little detail; the curved sights, the hard, metal barrel, the softer grips on the handle and underneath.
Sleight checked the gun all over. Then he made doubly sure that the safety was on. He’d seen the handy work of the Detonator. He’d seen the terrified screams on the faces of her victims. But he’d also heard stories. Terrifying ones. Stories with an effect similar to jumping into a freezing lake.
Everything was good. And quiet. Sleight shivered and squirmed back into the sofa, before relaxing and laying across it, the stress leaving his body. He rested the Detonator on his chest and admired it for a bit longer. He was building up the courage.
Finally, it came to him. Starting to feel flustered, Sleight removed his top, cooling himself down with the cold, hard barrel of the Detonator. He stroked the handle of the flare gun, before gripping it tightly in his right hand, his left sliding down his chest, towards his belt.
Suddenly, just as the doorbell upstairs rang, a flare burst its way from the barrel. Sleight leaped into the air and off the sofa, the stray flare having ignited a couple of the cushions. Somehow, the safety had slipped off.
Sleight rolled his eyes. He watched the sofa burn for a couple of seconds, before reaching for a nearby fire extinguisher and snuffing out the flames. He then packed away the still warm Detonator, locking it away in its safe box once more.