Team Fortress Two : The Tenth Class

The Break In

Setting-
Texas, mid Spring, mid-day

Here we see a young man, roughly eighteen years of age, give or take a couple of months, sitting on a large couch with the television on. Flipping through channels and searching for something interesting to watch, yet finding nothing. Just graduating from high school and taking some time off before jumping back into school, he lives with his parents. With both parents being at work, as well as his siblings being in school, he had nothing better to do. This young man is obviously our protagonist and main character of the story, (Y/N).

You weren't a loner by any means, but you liked the quiet, resulting in you telling your friends that you just wanted to be alone and offline for the day. It was around one o'clock when you decided to turn the TV off and get yourself some lunch. Walking past the front door you glance outside noticing an unfamiliar vehicle near your driveway. This was by no means odd, you live in the suburbs, so it was common to see cars by your house, but it didn't make you worry any less though. Heading into the kitchen, you prepared some leftovers for yourself. Halfway through eating, however, you heard knocking at your door. Thinking nothing of it, you went to check the door. Turns out, it's your unlucky day.

Looking through the glass on the door, you saw a group of men, mostly in ragged clothing, around five of them. You also catch a glance at seeing two more wearing face masks head towards the fence gate to the backyard. You decide not to open the door but instead lock it. Walking back over towards the kitchen, you lock the backdoor before grabbing your phone off the counter and heading upstairs. While on the stairs you called the police to notify them of your current situation as well as hearing the burglars rap on your doors again. Once upstairs you head towards your parent's room, and into their closet.

Now your family may look nice and well brought up on the outside, but the fact is, you all grew up in the sticks. This basically means your family was a group of fancy rednecks. Knowing your father, there should be a twelve-gauge and a nine-millimeter in his closet. Turns out you were right. Now it's their unlucky day.

You readied the two firearms and mentally prepared yourself for what may happen. The police said it would take anywhere between ten to twenty minutes for someone to arrive. You had to defend yourself.
CRACK SMASH
The doors are now down and you have at least seven intruders. You hear three sets of footsteps coming up the stairs, so in turn, you hide behind a wall. Waiting...until they come up...the last step...then...BOOM! One shell in the center of their chest, one down. BOOM! One shell in their face, two down. BOOM! One shell in their stomach, three down. Three lives were taken within a matter of seconds. Three dead men falling down the stairs. Three splotches of red on your soul

You quickly composed yourself and went downstairs to confront your attackers, to be met with a pistol whip to your face, effectively knocking your shotgun out of your hands and to the ground. Picking yourself up before any further damage can be applied, you pull out your sidearm and point it towards your assailant's head, pulling the trigger, four down.

Turning the corner you spot two more men walking towards you, armed with assault rifles. Quickly aiming down your sights and pulling the trigger, you put two bullets in one guy's chest, and one in the other's forehead, six down. Six splotches of red on your soul. You looked around for the seventh man, but couldn't see anyone. Keeping your gun-armed and your psyche intact, you searched the house, preparing for an attack. Only after exiting the kitchen did you find him, the problem though was he had knocked you to the ground. Knocking your gun away, he instigated his assault by throwing punches down to you.

Now here's the problem with his tackle. Firstly, you were around six foot tall. Secondly, you were about two-hundred pounds of mixed muscle and fat, not fat as in overweight, but as in you had a barrier of protection.

While he tried to punch you into submission, you had wrapped your arms around his waist and swapped positions with him. Now I want you to look at the situation before you. A middle-aged man of around one-hundred and fifty pounds, on the skinny side, versus a young man of around two-hundred on the lean side. Who do you think would win.

Well, you thought wrong, the burglar had pulled a knife from his pocket and slashed at your throat, ending you quickly. You held your throat helplessly while he threw you to the side and standing up. The man chuckled to himself before grabbing the pistol off the floor and aiming it at your skull.

"Should have fought harder kid."

Those were the last words you heard before your life ended before you entered a blackened void before you...died. You couldn't believe it, you were dead, you were at a loss for words. You had so much you wanted to do. All of your dreams crushed, ruined, all because 'you didn't fight hard enough'. You thought of yourself as weak, you felt like shit.

You wondered how you could have gone about that fight differently, how you could have won, how you could have lived. But no matter what you thought of doing, that man's words were infinitely echoing within your head.

You decided to stay silent and to wait.

In the endless void.