Peter mopped his brow again and squinted in the torchlight. He was supposed to be on the A303, on his beautiful bike and probably exceeding the speed limit if the truth be known. Instead he was holding a drill, and sitting next to an unexploded bomb from the Second World War. Even as far as he was concerned, the job he did was a job for a madman. In the same way that only firemen run into burning buildings, only bomb disposal experts crouch in cramped spaces next to a thing that could level a whole block, and then fiddle with it. Most people just get as far away from the damn things as they can; why did he get into this? He pushed away the recriminations and tried to concentrate; his team would be back with better lights soon, and they would want to know his thoughts. He ran his hands along the cold metal looking, or rather feeling, for a casting seam that might give away which type of device it was or where it was made. There was none to be found; was it his imagination or did the casing feel too smooth? 2008-06-05T17:22:10Z http://ficlets.com/feed/story/33204 <p>Ooh, great job at a very real scenario, complete with enough tidbits to suggest we&#8217;re in Great Britain, thus reasonably explaining old ordinance and just a teensy hint at something more at the end.</p> http://ficlets.com/stories/33204?basename=68242 2008-06-05T17:22:10Z THX 0477 http://ficlets.com/authors/thx_0477