The Less Interesting TimesBecause When Else Would You Rather Be?

2008/03/19 Weaponless: The Troubled Pilot

The doors to the kitchen burst open and spewed the man in the brown flight suit onto the unsanitary floor among the aisles of rusting pans and pots. He felt for his elbow, the one that struck the floor, when he noticed the unusual order of cleanliness present and picked himself up off the floor as fast as he could. “Lance, Lance…” Said the burly man in the dark suit. His entourage, gorillas with a similar function to his, waited outside for the time being. “Why do you have to make trouble?” The man continued. Lance put his hands on the metal cooking workspace and pushed himself up. Then he thought about what he just did and brushed his palms against each other. “Bobby, I swear I have the money. I just need one more trip to get all of it.” “You missed your deadline, Lance.” Bobby was turning a small device over in his hands, looking at it. “I sent you a–“ Lance started again but Bobby continued over, ignoring him completely. “What is this thing?” He said, propping up the thing he held with two fingers. It was a device about the size and shape of an ancient flint-lock pistol. It was, however, slightly thicker than the age of sail weapon you would need to break into a private collection to see and its two major parts, handle and barrel if you wish, were jointed with a circular cylinder the size of a fist.