PJ Harvey Posted:

Finesse

fine upstanding member of society suddenly feels that his trigger finger is itchier than that one time he slept in a flea-ridden mattress he stole from a hobo. Cheerfully, he surveys the now-empty room. At first he thinks there’s nothing of value, but a shiny, barely-chewed combat shotgun lies temptingly against a wall. Prying it out of its former owner’s dead hands, he tosses the old shottie in his pack (no decision to be made here, combat shotguns are just plain and simple better) and slings the new one over his shoulder. On his way out, he also grabs a fresh suit of green armor lying around.

Heading back to the entrance room, he kicks in the other door, pointing his shotgun at the darkness. Seeing nothing, he charges in. He is immediately greeted by a fireball to the chest, and a shotgun blast to the legs. Hollering in pain, he steps forwards, pumping more rounds into the combat shotgun and firing as he advances. His attackers are soon slain, but he’s in bad shape. Another medpack soon fixes him up, his old armor, however, is covered in more holes than a block of swiss cheese. It’s about as useful to him now.

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Hmmmm, what to do next…