Redlin was sitting in his basement, fiddling with one of his homemade bombs before setting it into its proper suitcase. Soon, soon the town would know his name and fear it. He had spent months working on them, each one was a special brand of pain and suffering in a box. A few would blow up cars, others would send out clouds of shrapnel into busy crowds.
He giggled a little, not hearing the slight creak on the staircase behind him. A quiet thunk behind his chair made him pause and the front door of his house slammed. The explosion rocked the town and the next morning all that was left of the house was a small fire burning away on the remains of the west corner of the building.
The only thing in the basement that survived was a small, dented metal box with a singed label marked "Emergency".
He giggled a little, not hearing the slight creak on the staircase behind him. A quiet thunk behind his chair made him pause and the front door of his house slammed. The explosion rocked the town and the next morning all that was left of the house was a small fire burning away on the remains of the west corner of the building.
The only thing in the basement that survived was a small, dented metal box with a singed label marked "Emergency".
