the firefly

“There's no sign of any fire or smoke, Sarge.”

“Did you check the basement switchboard?”

“Completely dark down there, sir.”

“Are you sure we're in the right house, Bingers? I haven't seen a goddamn alarm yet.”

“I'm afraid I couldn't find any detectors or extinguishers either, sir. ”

“How did this one dodge the city codes anyway? It looks fucking ancient but you'd think some buffoon at the municipal office would actually sit up and take notice one of these days.”

“Couldn't agree more, sir. Perhaps they lost the records in the Vilmahl fire.”

“Yeah well we need to saddle up and get to the real fucking inferno. I'll be a minute down with my flashlight and then we're off – remember to always use yours in basements next time, Binger”.

“Sir”.

Marburr felt a cool, swirling draft puff into his ears as he descended - the stairs felt wooden, dusty and cracked, but barely creaked.

The landing felt even softer. He pointed his flashlight at his feet.

A spark leapt from within the darkness ahead - his eyes pounced.

“Fireflies!”

Then his mouth fell.