The man in the black turtleneck turned around slowly, only to see yet another worker pointing a gun at his head. Shit balls.
“You move and you’re dead. Put your hands up and keep them there,” the worker ordered.
“But you said I couldn’t move,” the man said.
“Fine, you can move, but only to put your hands up,” the worker admitted. The man in the turtleneck raised his hands into the air, frustrated at himself for letting one live. Then the worker reached into his coat pocket and procured a small tube that appeared to be made of bamboo. He brought the tube to his lips and pointed the end at the man. Phoot. The worker blew into it causing a dart to fly out of the end and hit the man in the neck.
“Wha, whuda fuck…” the man stuttered as he fell to the floor slowly losing consciousness.
“Awesome!” he heard the worker exclaim just before he blacked out.
Four Hours Later
The man in the turtleneck slowly regained consciousness. The effects of the toxic dart were strong. He could tell he was sitting in a metal chair with his hands tied behind his back. His vision was out of focus; all that he saw was blurry. Then he heard gunshots and explosions. But there was something different about these sounds. They sounded far off almost. Something wasn’t quite right with them. Ah. Well I’ll be damned, the man thought. The sounds were coming from a TV. The worker who captured him must be playing video games.
“What the FUCK was that!? I shot him first!!” the worker shouted, confirming the man’s suspicions.
The man’s vision was coming into focus. He saw that he was in a large room, perhaps some kinds of storage place. He was sitting on one end of the room and he saw the worker sitting in front of a TV placed on a table on the far end of the room. As he sat there he heard the worker get killed over and over again. He could tell the worker was getting really frustrated.
“You fucking suck!” the man in the turtleneck shouted at the worker.
“Shut up! You’re in no position to talk!” the worker shouted back.
“You can’t even get a headshot!”
“I said shut up! It’s hard!” the worker said getting irritated
“You’re a fucking noob!” the man said with a smile on his face.
“Fine! You think you’re so good, you do fuckin’ it!” the worker shouted at him.
“Fine! I will. I’ll win the whole match for you!”
“Fine! if you don’t I’m going to shoot you!” the worker got up from his chair in front of the TV and walked across the large room towards the man. He went behind the chair and pointed the gun to the back of his head and cut the ties with a knife.
“Don’t try anything funny. Now go over there and win. I can’t wait to get to shoot you” the worker said with a snicker.
The man nodded, got up, and walked over to the TV. The TV was sitting on a large table, and the chair was just like the one he had just been tied to. There was an Xbox sitting on the table next to the TV. The large black box hummed away as the disc spun around in its drive. Then man sat in the chair picking up the controller as he did so. Immediately he was raking in the kills. Headshots and frag kills put him at the top of the scoreboard. As he was running around a corner another player wielding a shotgun blasted him and killed him.
“Ah damn!” the man in the turtleneck said.
“That was your first death, you’re pretty good.”
The man in the turtleneck could tell that the worker was paying more attention to the TV than he was to keeping his gun on him. The man looked at the TV screen, but not at the images on it, on the reflection. In the reflection he saw that the worker’s gun was slightly lowered and off to the side. Bingo. The man spun around and grabbed the gun, twisting it as he did so.
“Ahhh!” the worker cried as his finger broke inside the trigger guard of the gun. Once the gun was free of the worker’s hand the man backed away and aimed it at the worker’s head to make sure the worker wouldn’t try and lunge at him or anything.
“Oh, come on man,” the worker begged.
“Boom headshot!” the man shouted at him just before he placed a bullet into the worker’s skull. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, blood quickly forming a pool on the floor. “Noob,” the man said as he dropped the gun to the floor. He saw his own two pistols sitting on a table near the wall. He grabbed them and then ran outside.
He emerged outside in an alley. It was raining. The rain was slightly refreshing to the man. He walked through the alley and out onto the sidewalk. The street was dim. After a second or two he figured out where he was and how to get to his car. Then something caught his eye across the street. There was a man pointing a gun at another man’s head. I’ve had enough of this shit for one day, the man thought. He drew one of his pistols out from under his jacket and took aim at the man’s head. After a second to steady his aim he squeezed the trigger and let loose a small piece of metal death flying towards the man across the street. The bullet connected with the man’s head nicely painting the wall beside him a new shade of red.
The man in the turtleneck started to jog across the street to see if the guy he just saved needed help. He turned his gun around backwards in his hand and held it over his head to show he didn’t want to shoot him.
“You alright dude?” the man shouted at him through the rain as he approached.
“Why should I trust you?” José asked with noticeable frustration at the situation.
“Because I just blew that fucker’s head off, and with amazing accuracy if I do say so myself,” he replied smugly.
“That was a good shot,” José admitted. There was something different about this guy. José decided to trust him. “What do we do now?”
“My car is that way. I’m Joe by the way.”
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