Emergency Response at 1241 West Vale Avenue
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My name’s James Mullens, I’ve shot my dad dead and I’m gonna blow up the house”
“OK, James, do you still have any weapons?”
“Yeah, my dad’s rifle”
“Can you put it away?”
“No, I’m pointing it at my mum and little sister. Are you sending someone, I poured gasoline over the house and I just might set it on fire. I’m at 1241 West Vale Avenue”
“James, please stay on the line, I’m……….”
“Would you like to listen again Sarge”?
“I’ve heard enough”.
These missions rarely end well.
We arrive outside the house, the lights are out except for one upstairs room.
I bang on the door, “POLICE, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP”.
I repeat. No answer.
Looks like we’re going in.
My Breachers break down the door, I take point.
“JAMES, THIS IS THE POLICE, LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND AND DROP YOUR WEAPON”.
I signal to my team, as they sweep the ground floor, I peep upstairs from behind the wall. No movement.
“Clear on the ground floor Sarge”.
No smell of gasoline. Something’s off.
I give the order to move upstairs. We check room by room. I breathe deeply, trying to suppress my adrenaline as the mother and sister could still be alive and if they run out…
“SHOTS FIRED”. We instinctively crouch, Gunshots emanate from the dark corridor. I hope he hasn’t killed them too.
I repeat the instructions, shouting down the corridor to James but he doesn’t answer. I hear screaming from inside.
We carefully make our way towards the light emanating from under the final doorway, I signal for Lynch to take point, his legs cast a long shadow as he approaches the room.
I nod to Lynch, he stretches out his arm and turns the handle and we enter in quick succession. Everything happens in slow motion.
James, a caucasian teenager sits on a chair brandishing a rifle.
“DROP YOUR WEAPON, DROP YOUR WEAPON”
He spins round, his face filled with shock. I see a succession of muzzle flashes and then I feel the familiar recoil from my Colt AR-15, as I squeeze the trigger its crack reverberates around my chest.
The rounds eviscerate James’s torso, he flies over the top of his gaming chair, I assume he’s dead before he hits the ground.
“HOLD FIRE, HOLD FIRE”.
My stomach churns as I approach James’s weapon, I see the familiar blue X, yellow Y, red B, and green A buttons, the same as my MAG-P90-Gun Controller I use for my XBOX… Shots fired, I look to the source, that’s when I spot his pro gaming rig, his Avatar has just been melted in-game like him.
I order Lynch to inspect it as I pointlessly attempt to perform CPR.
“There’s a camera Sarge, they’re talking about us, he’s streaming live, they’re saying he’s been Swatted like a dirty fly”.
My heart sinks. Who the fuck would do this?