Extend the Story - Add a Room

You decide he will become a greatly loyal left-hand man, or companion. He jumps up and reaches for your hand, but instead, he fails the grab. The sirens are nearing, you dread the thought of you being caught. He just manages to grab your hand. The only thing left is to pull him up and over. With all your strength you had dedicated in your combat training and excercise, you manage to pull him up, only using one hand, you feel the immense strain of using only one arm, the other supporting you on the fence whilst your toes have managed to get into one of the gaps of the metal twirls. Just as he's over, you fall, you legs buckle from beneath you, fortunatlely you were at the right angle when you fell, so they only bent, causing uncomfortable slight pain. You quickly sprint into the next alleyway, the darkness of this evening insuring you with concealment. It hasn't fully darkened though, so it's not perfect. But it's good enough.



You make it an hour later to your apartment. Where Iza will also stay. He looks much like a dirty trampish man, his teeth are yellow, his face is dirty, and he pretty much lacks in intellect. But he has the potential of a loyal companion. He may make it far, but one minor mistake which will change your plans, will be dealt with, the dagger proving essential. There's only one slight safety risk.

What if he plans to kill you?


He has thanked you for helping him over the gate, but you can't be too carefree, people like him are always willing to decieve at the easiest of times. Like that man had proved earlier, before his wife and child was murdered.


The Nex day starts like the rest. The dullness of the sky slightly illuminating through your window, due to the fact that you wake up every morning at 6:30. The chirping of the birds in the trees. Tweeting each other ever few minutes. (No, they don't go on Twitter..or do they...?)The only change of this 'usual' day is, a Taliban is in your house.

Not only a Taliban. But a dry, crusty, dirty, rotten teethed, flibbertigibbet Taliban. He's not the worst you've worked with.

You once worked with a mentally disabled guy, who only blew himself up with his own grenade, believing that a Genie would grant him three wishes. Upon believing this, he'd blown up your kitchen in the process. So..think about it, it turns out he wasn't mentally retarded, but that he was a sociopath, or a phsychopath.



What happens next?

The police bang on the door