Tactical Ignition

Street patrol was wrapped. I hitched a ride in a tenant's canvas grocery tote, slipped under the apartment door, and cleared the bedroom threshold in three strides. Resting flat on the dark walnut nightstand was a heavy aluminum tactical flashlight, its knurled barrel cold and unlit. Direct intercept. I scaled the table leg, sprinted across the polished wood, and vaulted cleanly over the cylindrical body. Coming down hard, I drove a sharp downward heel-strike dead-center onto the raised rubber tail switch. Click! The spring snapped home with a heavy metallic clack, blasting a searing column of pure white LED light straight up at the ceiling. High-intensity beam secured. Base lit.