Her thumb struck the wheel. Fuck him. The flame glowed with gentle warmth in her hand. Fuck them all. She stood unsteadily on the pitched surface and...turned the bottle up. It splashed against her bare feet, surprisingly warm, and ran down the roof away from her, soaking into the shingles as it went. Her eyes lifted again to the sunrise, which in another mood she might have considered a beautiful promise of a fresh new day. The tiny flame in her hand seemed more promising to her at the moment.. Even though the material of which the box was made was transparent, it was certainly not glass or plastic since none of those would have resisted the penetrating capacity of a 303 high-speed slug without even sustaining a scratch.Vincent then focused his attention on the round buttons arranged in rows. When he pressed one, it did depress half way into the table and a soft musical note was heard coming from the box. It was a sound very similar to that made by a touch-tone telephone on his world.. More

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