Down and Out - A Terrible Minds Flash Fiction Challenge

Another Friday, another Terrible Minds Flash Fiction Challenge from Emmy-Nominated Guru Guru Chuck Wendig. This weeks prompt? Five words. Five random words that need to appear in your story, or at least be referenced in some way. The words? Figure, Dusk, Mobile Phone, and Flirt. I think Flirt is the only word that doesn't directly appear in here, but trust me, there's some flirting...overt flirting at that. You'll get it.

As a warning, when I did the word check after writing the last line of this, I was at exactly 1000 words, so I figured it was a sign and let it be. I'll probably fix her up a bit later - for better or worse - but for now, it is considered divine providence.

Anyhow, enjoy. Oh, and you may understand one of the characters if you've read this story.

Down and Out (4/15/2011)

The pistol felt heavy in his hand. The weight of the world was heavy on his shoulders. Simply put, Dustin couldn't take it anymore, and so he did what anyone would do when they felt that pressure; he sat down. Despite the sparking from the damaged chandelier above, the ballroom was still as bright as the snowy tundra at high noon. Even with his eyes closed he could still feel the light burning his retinas, and with his eyes open it was impossible to avoid seeing the signs of his handiwork. Thirteen bodies littered the dance floor. Their blood leaked from their wounds and pooled around them, glowing in the light like some cheap special effect.

Thirteen. I've killed thirteen people.... The thought looped around in his brain, bringing more guilt with each pass. By the seventh, Dustin had the still hot barrel of the gun pressed to the side of his head. Thirteen. I've killed - The gun clicked as the trigger was pulled on an empty chamber. The lights went out, plunging the room into near total darkness.

"Oh come now, Dustin. Is the melodrama really necessary?" The woman's voice was soft and smooth as liquid velvet. Dustin looked up, he could just see her through the dusk of the room. It was the dress that made it possible. Even in the gloom, the red sequins caught and played with the light, showing off the soft curves and easy grace of her figure. The heels of her shoes clicked against the floor as she confidently strode across the room to join him. Once there, armed with only a cocktail glass, she sat down and patted his knee. "No need to be so upset, they all deserved it. Besides, I just love watching a man get his gun off. It makes me feel...alive..." Her hand stayed on his knee. Not that Dustin noticed, he was too entranced by her eyes. The ice blue of her eyes complimented the pale white of her skin, and contrasted beautifully against the pitch black of her long hair. They seemed to glow in the dim light.

"Why did we do this again?" Dustin's words slurred as they left his mouth. The shock at his own actions was slowly receding, helped along by the feel of her hand as it slowly slid up the inside of this thigh.

"Because they were all bad men, because we deserve the money more than them, and because you wanted to help a damsel in distress." Her voice practically purred as she responded. Then, with a smile and a wink, she stopped her hand just inches from the growing bulge in his pants and stood up. "Come on, the code will be on the boss's cell phone. Then we can see what else we can get off...." She let her words hang in the air for a several moments before turning to walk back to the stage on their right. Dustin took a moment to center his thoughts - and himself - before standing to follow her. He already had the boss's phone in his coat pocket.

The offices behind the stage were nicer than Dustin had been expecting, and that was saying something when he considered the size and grandeur of the place. He didn't think his apartment was as big as the office that he followed her into. The room was painted white, just like everything else in this building. "The phone?" Her voice broke Dustin's train of thought and snapped him back on task.

"Oh, sorry" He mumbled and handed the small device over. He watched as she casually thumbed the device open, not caring for the still wet blood that marred the buttons, and looked for the information she needed.

"Ah, here we are. I need you to sit behind the desk."

"Why?"

"Because that's where I need you to sit so we can open the vault."

Dustin didn't get it, but he did as she asked. She had yet to lead him astray, and he had no reason to doubt her now. The chair was comfortable, the kind of leather that molded itself around your frame as you sunk into it. Dustin decided to buy a chair just like it once they had the money. He'd have to wait until they escaped to wherever they were going, but that wouldn't be too hard.

Dustin smiled as she joined him at the desk. She downed the last of her cocktail, Satan's something-or-other she'd called it, and set the glass down on the desk before hopping up to sit on it. As she crossed her legs at the upper thigh, the dress fell away at the split and fully exposed the length of one bare, smooth, and nicely toned leg. The line of her leg begged to be watched, and Dustin found himself mentally cursing as his view was robbed by the red dress a bare inch before the top. "Dustin, eyes up here..." She seemed amused, and even let out a chuckle as he blushed in response. "The key pad is on your right. Enter the digits carefully ok? 9...3...2...6...4...3...2...1"

Dustin tried to keep his eyes on the pad as he worked, but with her legs dangling right next to it, that was easier said than done. Still, he managed to enter the code, and his greed managed to over power his lust for long enough to pull the drawer open. He almost immediately frowned in disappointment as he reached into the drawer and pulled the hairy object out. "It's just a stupid wig."

As if on cue, a key fell down and out from inside the wig, and bounced off the wood of the desk. As Dustin saw the numbers etched into the side of the key it all clicked into place, and he suddenly realized where he knew the woman from. He looked up to plead his innocence, just in time for the bear-claw to neatly slash his throat.