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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Action/Adventure · #1943660
A choose your own adventure where you control a vigilante cleaning up the streets.
This choice: Shock and Awe (Kick down the door and clear the room.)  •  Go Back...
Chapter #2

Shock and Awe (Kick down the door and clear the...

    by: BlackMirror Author IconMail Icon
Three heavy kicks and the door begins to buckle, two more and I can feel it ready to break off the frame. Right now it's up in the air if they know someone is trying to get in. The music drowns out the my strike, but anyone attentive enough would know someone is hitting the door. Mustering all my energy into my legs I deliver a forceful kick that topples the door outward. My hand clutches so tightly around my pistol I can feel my knuckles go white. I plunge myself into the room, stabbing myself into the heart of danger, my ears bearing the full burden of Jame's horrible garbled music.

The living room is a mess. Empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, and other refuse litter the brown carpeted floor. His shelves and tables support the same refuse, but also hold the elaborate speaker system that's been pounding out that God awful music. The room is adorned with various music posters I receive a dull eyed glance from a tattooed scarred dope fiend on the couch. My pistol immediately gives him alarm, spurring him to reach for his revolver on the table, but in a haze he clumsily misses and knocks over his pipe. My lungs work to draw in a gasp of air as I steady the tremors in my hands and squeeze the trigger. A muzzle flash briefly illuminates the dim room as the bullet travels before punching a dime sized hole into the junkie's brain. He's dead. Holy fuck he's dead. My heart pumps ice into my veins and for a moment I don't know if I'm feeling nausea or ecstasy.

Adrenaline courses through my body like electricity, as my body instinctively pivots to meet a form coming out from the bathroom. A large broad shouldered man in a stark white wife beater stares out stupidly in surprise. I level the gun at his skull and give the trigger another squeeze. The round's impact catches him in the eye, bursting the orb and creating a dark red crevice. He falls limp to the floor, like a marionette with its strings severed.

My body poised for combat and accuracy I travel to the center of the room, making note of the bearded neo-nazi sleeping face down on a rug. I unceremoniously decommission him with another blast of my glock before moving on to the kitchen.

'Clear.' I confirm to myself, checking the blind spots. Only two more rooms to go, but first...

You have the following choices:

*Noteb*
1. I need all my senses for this. (Turn off the music.)

*Noteb*
2. I'll continue to use the music to mask my presence.

*Noteb* indicates the next chapter needs to be written.
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