Chapter 47: Reasonably Priced Icarus

Chapter 47: Reasonably Priced Icarus

Sparky’s Appliances and More was a great place to go when you needed a cheap toaster that probably wouldn't burn your house down. A wild assortment of second hand merchandise lined the metal shelves of the converted warehouse. They had everything from Korean rice cookers to industrial bacon slicers. Trash compactors to snow blowers. If it could malfunction and kill someone, or at least maim them, Sparky's had it.

Each appliance was carefully hand labeled with the brand, function, and price. A double thick layer of clear packing tape prevented the savvy shoppers from switching tags. Currently a bored clerk was pointing to a neon green sign three feet wide which very clearly stated all sales were final. (And possibly fatal. That part was written in much smaller letters.)

“I need a new one.” Granny pointed at the broken vacuum, its ruptured bag leaking dust all over the counter. His war with the dust bunnies was rapidly escalating. So far the fight had claimed the lives of three brooms and two vacuums.

“No refunds.” Repeated the clerk in a thick Slavic accent. Yavik did not like arguing with this hairy woman in the nightgown. She reminded him of his own grandmother and it was making him homesick. “All merchandise as is.”

“Come on! You have to help me!” Granny looked around desperately. The dust bunnies had crossed a line this morning by removing the stuffing from his favorite chair. They were actively making more of their kind now, soldiers for the war. If the dust bunnies went upstairs and found his mattress they would be unstoppable.

“No refunds!” The man repeated. “I am very sorry. All items are as is.”

“Fine... fine...” Granny was about to give up hope when he spotted something strange. It was a backpack with a large silver canister strapped to the back. From the side hung a familiar corrugated hose. “What is that?”

Yavik furrowed his thick brow. “That? That is industrial machine. For cleaning.”

“Bring it here.” The werewolf whispered.

“Fine.” Yavik set the gas powered canister vacuum on the counter and stepped away. It was covered in warning stickers. Helpful pictograms of skulls and yellow triangles got the point across to those who were unfamiliar with the Cyrillic alphabet.

Something about the device spoke to Granny in ways he found deeply disturbing. He didn't care for cars or the other symbols of masculinity. He didn't know the difference between a carburetor and a catalytic converter. But this was a thing of beauty. He had to have it.

“How much?” Granny asked.

The dissolution of the Soviet Union three years prior had resulted in anything not nailed down or properly guarded being sold for cash at bargain basement prices. It didn't matter what it was. If something had a dollar value they were going to try and sell it, even if they really shouldn't.

One such item was strapped to Granny's back. The device had started out as a prototype for a revolutionary new personal propulsion system. It was unclear whether they had been attempting to smuggle it out disguised as an appliance or if they had genuinely been trying to use it to fix their vacuum cleaner. In the USSR spare parts could be hard to find so either was possible.

Granny gleefully set his new toy down on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore. Six and Titan watched with curiosity from the park across the street. She couldn't quite make out what the device was. Eventually Granny began flicking switches and swearing when nothing happened.

“I WONDER IF HE REALLY THINKS THAT KICKING THE DEVICE WILL IMPROVE ITS FUNCTION.” Titan dropped the bright red Frisbee at her feet.

“I think they call it percussive maintenance.” Six replied.

“FASCINATING. HIT IT UNTIL IT WORKS. IF IT DOESN'T FIX THE PROBLEM, IT WAS BROKEN ANYWAY.”

“Oh, I think he has it.” Six watched Granny do a happy little dance and strap the device to his back. A few seconds later there was a high pitched whining noise like a turbine starting up. “Wait... is that a jetpack?”

The hellhound cocked his head to the side. “WHAT IS A JETPACK?”

Titan got his answer as Granny suddenly shot into the air like a bottle rocket. His screams trailed off in the distance as he disappeared, leaving nothing behind but scorch marks and a pair of blue house slippers.

“Woah.” Six said when she finally lost sight of him. “I hope he's alright.”

She looked down to see that Titan had retrieved the slippers and dropped them at her feet. “What's that about?”

“IT WAS ON THE LIST YOU GAVE ME. I HAVE FETCHED SLIPPERS FOR YOU.” Titan wagged his tail, slightly denting the metal sign post behind him with each hit.

Six patted him on the head. “Good boy!”