You give up. You go home. You get drunk and read trashy webcomics.
You hear a knock at your door, so you go to answer it, stumbling in your inebriation. You open the door to see Head honcho. Head honcho is not happy to see you. His ears are all up in your grill, so to speak. Plus he's growling. That's how you can tell. You're good with dogs.
You draw your trusty handgun. You're not ready to deal with his shit right now.
Head honcho, you see, is pointing a minigun at you now. That is, a really really big gun.
"Easy now, detective, unless you want to run The Blog Without a Head." You take a mental note of what to name the next sequel. As soon as you get out of this shindig, of course.
You don't get out of this shindig, though. Head honcho shoots. Head honcho scores. Scores several hits on you with his bullets, that is.
You're dead.
(Return to checkpoint)
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