He had on his orange biohazard suit with thick soled workboots and his everpresent yellow goggles. Strapped to his back was a can of fluid that was stamped \'Caution: Flammable\' along with instructions how to operate. He\'d already read those instructions and operated the flamethrower many months ago, but he\'d had a hell of a time finding out how to refill it. Since the first time he\'d used it, he\'d left it lying semi-discarded in the wardrobe in his room at the Parlor - through a series of events he\'d received information about how to fill it and now held the hose gun in his hands, looking like the world\'s oddest pesticide serviceman.
There were shrubs along the front of some of the warehouses. He turned the flamethrower on them. The whispery sound of flame engulfed them and left black leafless representations of what they once were, dying in a quick crackle and spit before the flame died down almost immediately. Digital was disappointed in the early expiry. He preferred for things to burn a long time.
Casing the area, he came across a tree that was planted on the kerbside. He laughed with glee and blasted the trunk with flame and then sat down in the middle of the road (quiet now that it was dark and after work hours, not a single car came to disturb him), and watched as the tree lit up the entire street, becoming a tree of magnificent torch.
It was sure to attract attention.
