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Description
Green or red.

Dillan looked nervously at his watch. There wasn't long left. The clock was ticking: somewhere out there Mad Kate would be pressing her finger on her own trigger. A tiny chemical pulse in her brain would cause her muscles to contract, prompting a small depression onto a tiny red button. This in turn would trigger an electric pulse which would run all the way to -

Well, to about a foot in front of Dillan's deepening frown.

He shifted the cutters in his hands. It was always the red wire. Always. The green wire was a bluff - it was textbook.

But Mad Kate was... well, unpredictable. She was kind of famous for it, actually. The kind of deranged mind which could easily conceive of wrapping a green wire in red casing. Or - heaven forbid - wiring a green wire to a live socket.

And still that clock kept ticking. The chimes seemed to get louder, the ticks increasing in pitch while the tocks deepened. Dillan shook his head - he had to just cut a wire. Otherwise the consequences would be... well, it was barely worth thinking about.

A voice rang out in Dillan's ear - pressure, more pressure.

You couldn't train for this sort of thing. The drills, the rehersals, the camera tests. It didn't prepare you, not when it came to this moment. Dillan's memory was his own worst enemy - and his only ally.

Dillian swore - whatever happened, he knew he'd regret that - and cut the green wire.

A melody played, booming in his ears; the room darkened with a streak of light. His heart raced - had he...?

A fanfare blazed. Lights illumunated the room. A crowd cheered and Mad Kate screamed in fury. The compere strode over with his pinstripe suit and broad smile.

Relief coursed through him: he'd done it.His eyes scanned the room and found his wife in the audience, lit by the red-yellow lights of the studio. He'd won - he was a Bomb Blaster. The grand prize was his: now everything was going to be OK.

Description
Green or red.

Dillan looked nervously at his watch. There wasn't long left. The clock was ticking: somewhere out there Mad Kate would be pressing her finger on her own trigger. A tiny chemical pulse in her brain would cause her muscles to contract, prompting a small depression onto a tiny red button. This in turn would trigger an electric pulse which would run all the way to -

Well, to about a foot in front of Dillan's deepening frown.

He shifted the cutters in his hands. It was always the red wire. Always. The green wire was a bluff - it was textbook.

But Mad Kate was... well, unpredictable. She was kind of famous for it, actually. The kind of deranged mind which could easily conceive of wrapping a green wire in red casing. Or - heaven forbid - wiring a green wire to a live socket.

And still that clock kept ticking. The chimes seemed to get louder, the ticks increasing in pitch while the tocks deepened. Dillan shook his head - he had to just cut a wire. Otherwise the consequences would be... well, it was barely worth thinking about.

A voice rang out in Dillan's ear - pressure, more pressure.

You couldn't train for this sort of thing. The drills, the rehersals, the camera tests. It didn't prepare you, not when it came to this moment. Dillan's memory was his own worst enemy - and his only ally.

Dillian swore - whatever happened, he knew he'd regret that - and cut the green wire.

A melody played, booming in his ears; the room darkened with a streak of light. His heart raced - had he...?

A fanfare blazed. Lights illumunated the room. A crowd cheered and Mad Kate screamed in fury. The compere strode over with his pinstripe suit and broad smile.

Relief coursed through him: he'd done it.His eyes scanned the room and found his wife in the audience, lit by the red-yellow lights of the studio. He'd won - he was a Bomb Blaster. The grand prize was his: now everything was going to be OK.