The Rift

At the top of the Quel-Market, where a great window overlooked the praking lot and warehouse below, Roy Tonberry was reclining back his cheap swivel chair. He was wearing nothing but a casual shirt, with a red tie lying over the curve of his gut. On either side of him were two of the finest looking women he'd ever laid eyes on. Down below, a third was sucking his dick like a cherry lolipop, making sure to massage his nuts every couple seconds of course.

Being the boss of one of Quelnine's stores wasn't without its benefits.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Keep going." he whispered to the blonde at the foot of the chair. He wasn't sure she could even understand him -- the brunette beside his was dipping her tongue in and out his mouth at breakneck speed, while he held her naked body in his right arm.

The other blonde busy rubbing his body in various different places; he'd get a chance to be more personal with her in a few minutes.

Just as Roy was starting to come, they heard the first gunshot. It was a thin whipcrack beneath the room. Both the women sitting beside him stood up immediately and gasped.

"What was was that?!" asked the one who had been massaging his body a second ago.

The blonde on the floor tried to get up, but Roy shot out his hand and held her head tight to him. His cock spasmed, absorbing the sweet salavia like a dry sponge, while he released his load.

Another cracking sound ripped through the air below, and this time it was followed by the sound of shattering glass. The two girls standing screamed and ran from the room. The blonde on the floor tried to get up again, but Roy reached out and slapped her. She stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Swallow it," he growled.

She hesitated, and then slowly gulped down everything he had put in her mouth.

"That's a good girl," he said, taking his hand from the back of her head. "Now get the hell out of here."

She stood up and ran after the two others, letting the oak door slam shut.

After that, there was a stream of gunshots that didn't stop. People screamed outside, with the sound of glass shattering and the steel thud of lead hitting metal everwhere.

Roy quickly slipped on his jeans, and then went to his oak desk in the back on the room. In the drawer there was a pistol. He would have acted quicker, but that girl's mouth had felt so damned good. Oh well, there was nothing to be done about it now.

He rolled back the cylinder to make sure the gun was loaded. It was. Three rounds. He flicked in the safety and trotted out the door into a purple carpeted loft. He peered from the balcony to the store below.

Customers screamed and ran wildly, some actually flailing their arms above them. Thick slices of glass all over the produce sections that lined either side of the entryway. Droplets of rain flew in from the storm outside.

He ran to the stairway as the screeching city alarms began going off. They were so loud he thought he'd be deaf the rest of his life. Little did Roy know he wasn't going to have the luxury of finding out.

On the ground floor, he pushed his way past the customers, his only thought was of reaching the back exit. He began a dead sprint toward the aisles when a bullet pierced his leg from the back of the kneecap. A jolt of pain exploded in his muscles, but he kept going.

A few feet further and his knee joint crushed beneath his weight, sending bits of fleshy bone onto the clean white floor. Roy lay, looking up at the underside of the loft in a gloom of agony.

In a last desperate attempt, he sat up and began to crawl toward the aisles, but as soon as he did, another bullet whizzed by and pierced his throat. He feel face down in a spray of blood, gagging. His body twitched two times, and then he went limp.

If count only the bullets fired from Mike's humanoids, he was the only person to get shot twice.

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