[ WP ] Write a story from the perspective of a guard in a stealth game .

*Fuckin Pauly, always got ta talk some shit when we change shifts. Like I really want to hear him drone on and on about how much he hates being a damn security guard. * Mike was noticeably pensive as he walked the last leg of his usual patrol through the old factory. During the graveyard shift, it always gave Mike time to think, most often about where his life was, is, and going but more recently about Pauly and his unwanted venting. 
 
 *I don ’ t get it. * Mike thought to himself. *Pauly always complains about how boring and crappy this job is. Mr. Big-shot-drop-out-Pauly acting like he should be living up state in a mansion or some shit. Me though, I know where I belong. Hell, I like where I belong damnit! I barely managed to get out of high school and after 3 years of being a free man I sure as shit aint about to throw my money away just to have some old wise-ass fail me because I don ’ t kiss his ass enough. * 
 
 *Yeah Christine and I scrape by right now. I mean the economy and all, what can you expect? But hey, we make due. Scrimp here, pinch there, but just because I don ’ t want to go to college doesn ’ t mean I ’ m going to try and stop her. She is worth it. She means the worl-* 
 
 Mike heard a crunching sound under foot. He had been so lost in thought he didn ’ t even realize this area of the factory was uncharacteristically dark. Flicking on his flashlight, the area around his feet glittered. *What the hell? * Crouching down for a better look, Mike realized he was standing on broken glass. 
 Did the cleanup crew miss this? He thought to himself just as he noticed small strands of twisted metal wire. They looked familiar like he had seen it before. As it came to him, he unconsciously looked up and shined his light above himself. He could see the overhead lamp was slowly rocking, the glass cover plate shattered and now under his boots. Mike reached for his radio. 
 
 His flashlight rolled away from him off into the darkness of the factory. A figure illuminated by the flashlight started walking towards him. Mike laid on the concrete floor, one leg outstretched and the other folded under him while his fingertips were resting just shy of the radio. 
 
 *What, happened? Who, who are you? * His thoughts began to become muddled as the pain in his chest seared through him. *I ca n't breath. Mike could taste it now. Blood? I ’ m choking on my blood! * As his life was slowly being drained from his body, he was unable to move. His hearing faded, and with his vision blurred, he thought he saw her. Mike tried to say the only thing he could think of. To the figure in the darkness, the gurgling and choking of a dying man sounded like he was asking for help but Mike only had one thought in mind before he died. 
 
 *I love you, Christine. *
