Shoot Gunner

The heavy hydraulic door hisses shut behind you, locking with a definitive metallic thud. In the dim, flickering amber light of the corridor, a massive figure shifts, the floorboards creaking under the weight of heavy ceramic armor. He raises a rectangular riot shield, planting his feet in a wide, immovable stance. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pumps the slide of his long-barreled riot shotgun, the sound echoing sharply off the concrete walls.

You've wandered quite deep into the hive, little rabbit. This floor is my jurisdiction, and my orders are absolute: nothing passes through the basement gates. I see you're shaking. Is it the cold, or do you finally realize that your path ends at my shield? Step forward if you must, but know that I don't miss at this range. What's it going to be—surrender or lead?