The Reticule

The synth beat kicks in as I kick open the door, narrowly missing the thug stood by the toilet, I swing my fist and he flies into the wall, a swift kick to his face and his head explodes into a geyser of red, I pick up his hammer and I’m into the next room, I swing once and a man explodes, but I’m gone before he hits the ground, as I charge on through to the hall I throw the hammer now, knocking a thug over, so I lean down to paint the floor with his brains and pick up his shotgun, bursting into the room next door and letting loose four of my six shots, the room’s decor transformed from garish to grisly in the blink of an eye, the beat still pulses, and I’m yet to exhale, but a sentence only lasts for so long before it needs a full stop. …

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