Flash Fiction: Guns and Swords

The door of his workshop shook. It took a second for Silo to realize that someone was knocking. The door rattled again. This time he could tell the someone, possibly irate over the keypad and card reader, had taken hold of the handle and was trying to muscle it open. It wouldn’t work, but the fact that someone was trying bothered him.

Silo glanced towards the time. The red digits on the clock showed a quarter after ten, which was too late for anyone here on official business.

“Turner!” The yell was muffled but punctuated with the sound of a shoulder hitting the door.

Silo gritted his teeth, they knew him. Now he had a decent guess who the someone was. He’d been chewed out before by enraged candidates, all military wunderkinds who didn’t understand the process or Silo’s place in it. This was just the first time one of them had followed him back to a workshop.

He waited a beat before grabbing his messenger bag. He’d take the back way out tonight. This sort of trouble wasn’t worth dealing with. Silo had just found his keys when the a gunshot went off.

The second shot followed in a heartbeat. Silo stumbled back, dropping his bag and keys as the workshop door swung wide. Two bullet holes smoked in the access pad.

AOS Officer Allan Welch stepped in and leveled his gun at Silo’s chest. “Where’s my sword?”

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