"Sir, if you would please step on the scale....alright. We got a 140. Just give me a moment....alright, here's your license. Next."
"Someone. Pleas. Just. F*cking. Shoot me."
It was well seemingly just another day at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The air was awkward, attitudes, there was way too many people and some people were slowly losing their sanity the very moment their phone battery hits zero percent. It would all seem pretty photo-realistic if it wasn't for the fact that the place, once entered, was seemingly infinite and inescapable. People however continued about their business, seemingly completely oblivous of the dual soon to take place at this soul-sucking DMV.
Alright. Screw this. I'm done with this mind screwy infinitesimal silent hill bullcrap. I wait one more minute and I might actually shoot someone.
The walking one man army was unsure of whether or not these people were real, mind controlled or just manifestations of whatever this placid place was, but he had decided that irregardless, he wasn't going to shoot them. He had morals, a sense of code. Honor.
"Alright everyone." *VROOOOOOOOOOOM* Bursting from the doors of the department, a chopper styled motorbike roared down an empty isle, a man clad in full body armor who looked like he was ready to survive the apocalypse, pulling the bike up into a wheely as if a bucking steed, before he slams it back down and breaks, streaking down the isle and coming to screeching halt in front of a desk. "Time to get out! You'll need to get your licenses some other time!" He takes out his CZ75 handgun and starts firing into the ceiling, causing everyone to flee the area.
....It just wasn't a sense of code that mirrored that of the "ideal" hero. Indeed, Elliot had his own code, and didn't think of himself as hero.
"Thank you, again. I promise I won't make much of a nuisance, and, um... I'll try to get out as soon as I can. I think I might be leaving Gothic after this. This city needs a stronger hero than me -- one more like you."
Elliot stared at the floor, the thought of those words said to him still very fresh on his mind....but ultimately irrelevant. He wasn't doing anything heroic. He entered a tournament to see how far he could make it out a sort of curiosity. A natural desire a successful former mercenary now hero for hire like him would have after having a bit of success. It was a bit of fun.
He looked up and the room was completely clear. Not a soul in sight. He got off his bike and walked over to an area behind the glass as he looked up his handgun's rounds, counting the number of explosives and incendiaries he had. They were all kept safe in his coat, not even walking in a direct flam with temperature of a volcano was gonna set those things off. A good thing too. He had enough ammo to take on a battalion. Yet, he wasn't exactly sure if he was gonna use it.
"Guess we'll see pretty soon..."
Elliot flicks out a revolver casually, checking the ammunition of his weapons now, taking out a few magazines and idly juggling grenades with a single hand. He sat behind the glass because he wasn't sure how his opponent was going to approach him.