The Shooting 276


Roseville, Sydney – present day

Brady Sutton steadied both hands and pointed his virtual AK-47 machine gun at the television screen. A second later, his finger squeezed the trigger on the game console and the console leaped in his hands. A sharp rat a tat tat echoed through his bedroom. Man, the surround sound speakers his dad bought for him last Christmas were so cool. It sounded so real, as if he were there, right in the thick of it.

The asshole he’d been pursuing in his virtual stolen car through the back alleys of Los Santos fell over in a lifeless heap on the road in front of him. Bullet holes peppered his chest, all of them leaking blood. Even more blood pooled on the ground beneath him.

Brady pumped the air with his fist. “Yeah! Take that, you son of a bitch.” A fierce surge of satisfaction rushed through him and left him tingling. He pulled the console toggle toward him and floored the accelerator pedal of his virtual car. He reversed out of the alley with a squeal of rubber, spinning his wheels. The body in the alley now forgotten, he went in search of another target, wishing that he could eradicate his real-life enemies as easily as he did playing on his PlayStation.

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