Here's a little passage of creative writing that occurred to me this morning, but.... I don't know where the story is going. So, I invite you to add to it. Maybe we can co-author a great novel. Come on, join in.
Bartholomew Krumm unholstered his Multiplex, took aim, and fired, and Lazarus Retch fell to the ground and lay screaming. Krumm reset his Multiplex to Restore, and shot Retch again. Retch stopped screaming and lay gasping for breath.
In a moment he stopped gasping long enough to utter, “Why did you plex me?”
“I asked you nicely, and you didn’t move. Then I warned you and you still blocked my way in.”
“You were not invited, and you are not welcome, and plexing your way in will not help.”
“The meeting is about my future, so I am going to be heard.”
Lazarus touched a small insignia on his uniform and spoke, “Krumm is here, and is coming in.” He paused and then answered an unheard voice, “I did try to stop him and he plexed me. I have the burns to thank me for my effort.” He struggled to sit up. Krumm held out his hand and helped Retch to a sitting position. Then he stepped around the stunned guard and entered the doorway.
It was the most important action of his life.
Why? Let me hear from you, for I don't know.