Well-dressed snobs rose from their seats as Steven's menacing presence drew near.
"Oh my god, there's a psychopath on the loose!"
"Help, help!"
"Please don't kill me, I'll do anything!"
Some begged for their lives, others fled into the minefield where they disappeared in thin clouds of smoke and shrapnel. Steve ignored them, taking an elevator straight to the top, where Tenpenny and Mister Burke slept.
The elevator was a basic pre-war one; mirrors on the walls, a grimy steel railing to grab onto for support, circular buttons that lit up when pressed. Steve's stomach lurched as it sped to the uppermost level, then rapidly slowed to a halt. The doors dinged open and the obsessed sheriff burst out, rifle blazing. There were only three security officers on this level, but there were probably more waiting for him below. He dealt with them swiftly, then kicked open Tenpenny's bedroom door.
Allistair Tenpenny wasn't inside his room - the bed, bathtub and living room were all deserted. Steven Maine threw open the metal door to the balcony, where Tenpenny was reclining in a preserved pre-war chair.
"Ah, young wanderer," the elderly man smiled, "you seem to have proved you're a worthy fighter. Say, do you think we could make some sort of arrangement that might benefit us both?"
"You fucking coward," spat Maine, "arrange this!" With that, he grasped onto Tenpenny's fragile body by his collar, and hurled him over the edge of the balcony. Tenpenny's cries of terror echoed until he hit the ground, shattering his entire skeleton.