For a moment, Al didn’t answer. He stared at us with his futuristic eye-gear, while me and Zoe subtly began to brick ourselves.

He then responded with an answer that, if he were entirely human, I would have expected him to deliver with a devious smirk:
“We have less drastic means.”

From his long overcoat – (did I mention he had a coat? Sorry. This format is somewhat limiting) – Al produced from one of the pockets a small spherical object – smooth, smaller than a fist, and black as night.

He stood up, and placed it in the middle of the floor.

Using his thumb, he pushed in the top of the sphere.

A loud beep.

A pulsing throb.
Increasing in intensity.
Enveloping us. Engulfing us.

Zoe screamed at Al:
“What are you doing?!”

Al’s response:
“Thermonuclear grenade! Safest of its type! Only vaporises small areas!”

Me:
“You’re blowing up our building?!”

Al:
“This room only.”

The throbbing peaked.

My bones rattled.

My eyes quaked in their sockets.

My—

BOOM

deathisaflashofbrightbluelight!!!