The console was buzzing from the fan now spinning violently just trying to keep it from overheating. Three of us were energetically and unconstitutionally determined to take down the fourth player.

Slight grunts and sighs from fingers mashing the buttons on each controller indicated that we were giving it our all to take down the collective foe. Trevor and his freakin pikachu had to be stopped.

Greg and his, Zelda protecting, Link were already out of the fight. Brandon and Solid Snake had one life left and Nate with his Yoshi had two. Trevor dominating the Smash Bros playing field had all three of his lives left.

Our chatter and tactics of how we would succeed in this endeavor reverberated off the small walls of the one bedroom apartment Trevor lived in. Cold pepperoni pizza littered the stove top in the quaint kitchen and you could barely notice the glossy finish of the coffee table in front of us from all the empty Mountain Dew cans.

Losing to this damn pikachu had to stop. Brandon swore if he got hit with that thunderbolt move one more time he would quit after this game and never touch it again. Trevor chuckling at our frustration of the macth and knew that he was untouchable with his pikachu, but we were irrevocabley determined. “Kill Trevor!” Brandon shouts,

“Ya, get him!” Greg chimes in wanting vengeance for his lost character.

Trevor gets a forward lunge on Nate’s Yoshi and he flies out of the screen losing another life. Alright two lives between Nate and Brandon and Trevor had three still.

Trevor’s Pikachu is hurting real bad. The guys know if they can touch him they can take him down a life. “Come on kill Trevor!” Brandon expresses again.

“Ya let’s corner him.” Nate adds hopefully leading a plan of attack.

-Ding Dong-

The doorbell rings unexpectadly, prompting all four boys to glance at each other as if someone has an answer to why the doorbell was rang. No one was expecting anyone.

Brandon volunteers, “I’ll get it.” Lifting himself off the hard matted floor. Nate paused the grueling battle of the century as they wait to see who their surprise visitor is.

Brandon approaches the door, feeling the cool night seeping in from the metal door knob as he turns it.

Bam!

The door flies open and a wave of dark blue uniformed men start charging into the tiny apartment. Each holding a gun as an extension of their arms “GET DOWN! DON’T MOVE!” All four boys immediately drop to the old soiled floor and lay like a flatfish on a sea floor.

“PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! NOW!” They can see that it’s at least four bulky officers fit into the inadequate space and possibly even more outside the door.

The blue uniformed men begin giving orders into the mobile communication units strapped to there vests. One officer makes his way into Trevor’s bedroom scanning for any other personages. Once he returns they all seem to come to a nonverable agreeance that they have the situation handled. The officer with a sergeant tag labeled on his shoulder steps forward and asks, “Alright boys, where’s Trevor? What did you do with him?”