Choose your own, maybe?

I figure there are a few different ways I can take the story from there.
1) set out 3 different stories from those parts. Which end up branching themselves. So that seems overly complicated.
2) I can write *cut scenes* is how I would call this. After a choice is made there is a *cut scene* for that specific consequence. Before picking up the single main story again. I can also give the *cut scenes* points, and later in the story you need a certain amount of points to RIGHTFULLY unlock a scenario. Like, gaining reputation with the other character.
3) I can let readers pick the outcome for me to write about, and use the same point system for myself to determine just how it progresses in terms of character interactions and development.

OJ readies his shotgun, resting it on the hood of the SUV keeping most of himself hidden. He watches the corner intently, any figure passing is hidden by a fence made of tall shrubbery. "It's coming." He thinks to himself. "It or us." Hisself thinks back. A body has barely even appeared in the open, OJ's adreneline is pumping, sweat drips from his brow, instinct takes him over and fires a shot. -Bang- The headshot misses its target, who ducks back behind the shrubbery. "You missed." "Wait, that was a person wasn't it?" OJ stands up from behind the SUV, and begins pleading with the person he just attempted to kill. "Hey, are you alright? Look I thought you were one of them. I didn't mea. .. ..." OJ's pleading falls on deaf ears as he's double tapped in his chest mid sentence . A glock barely protruding from the bottom corner of shrubbery. A piercing set of eyes needed only milliseconds to aim. There are a few minutes of calmness, of peace, OJ's last sight would be the vast blue sky above. He had fallen on his back, in an awkward manner due to his bag, as blood begins to ooze from his wounds. This person walks up to OJ and looks at him in the the face, at the cold and lifeless eyes she puts one more bullet in between.

• You've killed OJ. Start from the beginning.

Hidden behind the SUV, OJ calls out in an attempt to judge what has yet appeared. "Hey, is someone else there?" The footsteps fall silent. OJ waits a minute for a response that does not come, before cautiously working his way to the corner. A fence of tall shrubbery blocks out any view of what was there. He begins thinking to himself. "Am I imagining things or were there really footsteps?" He inches his way closer and peeks around the corner. "Nothing's here. I think I might be losing it." He says aloud. And just as he goes to turn back, he is knocked out cold from a swift strike to his head.
OJ's been knocked out for half an hour. He wakes up in a nearby house, tied to a chair in the kitchen. The sun shines through a bay window, lighting up the room. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the air. He starts stirring, and coming to."Another one of Mayhem's boys huh? So, you'd go through all of this trouble just to find me? You're pathetic." The female slaps OJ across the face, leaving red imprint. "What are you talking about lady?" "Don't play dumb with me. I know you. Every man in this area is working for him, and I'm going to make you suffer for everything you've done." The girl who now seems to be around OJ's age in the late teens, walks a few steps to the counter, she picks up a lit cigarette, and presses the cherry on the back of his restrained left hand. " OH WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMAN? I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!" OJ screams out in pain, then is silenced with another blow to the head from the butt of his shotgun.

While OJ is knocked out for a second time, the female sits in the bay window. Looking up at the clear blue sky, contemplating. "It looks like your eyes ya know." She hops up and walks over to OJ. "What did you say to me?" "Your eyes, they're pristine, and blue like the sky today." She punches him in his throat, causing OJ to gag and cough wildly. "No one here wants compliments from you." "I do." A part of OJ thinks to himself. "What do you want from me?" He barely manages to squeeze out the question. "I want you, to give me back, MY SISTER!" Her fist smashes against his jaw as she yells, then turns her back to leave OJ spitting up blood. "Hey, she's got a nice little ass though doesn't she and was I the only one checking out her breasts?" "Oh why now in all of the situations do you have to think about sex?" "Wouldn't you like to take a test drive though?" "I'd like to drive you out into the desert and bury you." Conversing in his head, OJ continues on to the matter at hand.

Choking out a response, OJ is barely able to tell her, "You have got to stop being such an irrational little girl. I am not a part of anything." "Little girl, li,ttle, girl? This little-girl has knocked your sorry ass out and has you at her mercy. Do you really want to taunt this?" OJ spits blood at her feet. "You're the one being a bitch. I don't have your sister, I don't know your sister, and who in all the fuck is Mayhem?" The girl look at her feet, bloodied spit inches from her tennis shoes. "That's how this is going to be then, it's okay, I'm fine with it." She begins lightly chuckling to herself, thinking. "Actually, I have another plan for you." "Oh what now you benevolent creature?" "Smartass, you're funny, really, hah hah funny. Well. I want my sister back. And you're going to take me to her." "Where?" "Oh it's fine if you want to play ignorant now."

She looks coldly into his eyes, peering into his soul. "You're going to drive, and I am going to have my gun on you the whole time. Since you want to act stupid I'll tell you where we need to go. Two towns over, turn by turn directions when neccessary. Mayhem's taken over a military base and claimed it as his palace. You're going to be my bargaining chip. If he wants his lackey back, he'll give me my sister. "Solid plan, crazy chick." "I've got a few tricks up my sleeves. Let's go fodder." She heads over to OJ, unties his restraints from the chair enough to where he can untie himself while she waits with a glock drawn on him. "I told you I was better off alone." "Alone with me! Naughty." He thinks. "I hate myself." He says out loud. "So do I, let's go."

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The girl throws OJ's pack in his face. "Giddyup mule." OJ slings it over his back and begins walking out the door with his left hand on his throat while still coughing. "Hey, what'd you do with my other guns?" "Do you really think I would just let you have guns to shoot me with? Do you really think I am that naive?" Stopping in a narrow hallway, he smacks his right hand against the wall, bending over while he spews a vile mixture of blood and vomit onto the floor. He spends a few minutes desperately spitting up what he wants to be the last bit only to discharge more of his stomach contents in a wretched retching, the bile stinging his throat. A disgusting display. The girl has stepped back a few feet to keep the filth away from her. "Weak constitution boy?" She says with a twisted, delighted grin upon her face.

OJ hops over the barf, takes the bag off and begins to dig around inside of it. "Hey, HEY! What do you think you're doing?" The girl fires her weapon, the bullet landing inches away from OJ's head. He instantly ducks down and backs away from the sound of gunfire, eyes wide with fright. "I need water. I need to wash my mouth out." "Give me the bag, and I'll get it for you. I checked that bag of yours and didn't find anything you could use against me. But I'm not taking any chances. Toss it over here." So OJ cooperatively hands over the bag to her, she reaches in and grabs a bottle of water and tosses it back over to him. "You're lucky I give you the luxury. If I wasn't about to spend more time with you I'd leave you with nothing so it could just fester in your mouth." "Yeah thanks, you're a saint." Unscrewing the lid, oJ takes pours a little water into his mouth, swirling it around and spitting it back out at the other end of the hallway. Also taking the time to pour a little water over his cigarette burn. "Good, now put the bottle back in the bag." She hurls the bag back over to OJ. "and let's get on with the show. "Hey man, how do you think she-" "NO."

Dejected, OJ walks outside where a light breeze caresses his face. Soon followed by the girl who still draws a bead right on his head. "So about my guns." "I've got them on me, you don't need to worry about it." "How does she have those guns on her man? The only ones I can tell are the obvious shotgun and handgun she's pointing at us?" "How am I supposed to know? maybe on her back or something." "Well, that revolver you took from me. Did you check the chamber? "Yeah, who only carries one bullet?" "I'm saving it, so if you're going to use my weapons, don't use that one." "My precious." "You wont have to worry about it, if it comes down to it I'll give the bullet right to you." She says glaring at him. "Time to pick." She says, standing on the front lawn a few yards behind OJ. They both scan the immediate area for vehicles, it appears as though they are on an entirely different block from before as OJ does not spot his SUV.

"How abou-" OJ doesn't have time to complete his sentence before he drops to the ground. "Oh fu-" The girl doesn't have enough time to complete hers either while she tried running back inside of the house. Her head slams on the concrete walkway, she dropped like a ton of bricks. Something sticks out from her arm, and OJ's chest. Tranquilizer darts! Four figures amble out of surrounding bushes, and walk up to the couple. "We found her." "What do we do with the guy?" "Shoot him." "No, we'll take him too." Two of the larger men hoist the unconcious duo onto their shoulders taking them to a rusted, red pickup truck a few more blocks away. The one carrying the girl rubs his dirty right hand up and down her legs until the two are layed in the bed of the pickup truck. The one who suggested that OJ be brought along gets behind the driver seta, the one who wanted to shoot him in the passanger seat. And the others sit in back with OJ and the girl, watching over them and searching through their belongings.

"If I wake up from being knocked out one more time today, I am going to kill everything." OJ rouses groggily, aware that he is inside of a building now. His feet are set in heavy metal chains built into the floor. Next to him is the girl, unmoving, tranquilized. "Fine mess she's gotten us into eh pal?" "What is going on?" OJ jerks his head sharply from one side to another, surveying the area, there is nothing else in the small room, then a door opens. "Oh, this one is awake already. Listen here kid, you're coming with us, resist and you'll die." "Fine" OJ responds meekly. The chains are undone, the girl is carried and OJ is continually shoved foward, walking behind one man and in front of another. They are lead down corridors until they enter an open room. There is a small group of people on one side, cheering and drinking. In the middle there has been a chair placed atop a platform. A man sits there, and eyes the girl being brought before him, being lain down just as she regains consciousness. "Candice, you've returned." He says in a strangley welcoming manner. She looks horrified and is unable to speak. Then his focus drifts over to OJ, and all he can think to himself is, "Mayhem".

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Quickly OJ gets in to the unlocked SUV, as quietly as he can he closes the door. The windows are tinted, and he sits in the backseat waiting to see what happens. His heart starts racing in a fearful anticipation. "Do you think it's one of them?" "Be quiet, it should come through here at any time." He says under his breath. Through the tinted window he sees a lovely blonde haired girl, no older than he is. She looks somewhat frantic, and looks all around the intersection before continuing on her path forward, gun in her hand.

"Sooo. .. ... what?" "What do you mean what?" "Are you going to go after her?" "No." "But it was a woman, wo - man." "Point?" "You watched her run by here same as me. She had a pretty face, a nice skinny body, and then-" "Then what?" I was just telling you, don't interrupt me." "Get on with it." "Of course, she's got the same parts and bits all females do, and I want them." "You can't have them." "We could have had them." "What makes you think she would have wanted anything to do with us?" "Well I don't know about you, but I have a penis that would satisfy any woman." "You've never touched a girl in your life." "If they weren't gone I would have!" OJ slumps back in his seat, feeling defeated and tired after bickering with himself. His nerves are frying him, he decides to rest for a few minutes in the SUV. "I don't need anyone else." "..." "And they don't need me." ". .. ..."

Regaining sufficient motivation OJ steps back out of the SUV cautiously. "Well the seats are comfy. Let's take it." "Why don't we check the house first for keyes? I know people are stupid enough to leave their cars unlocked, but I don't know how to hotwire a damn thing." "Use the internet." "Stop that." "Stop what?" "Stop being an idiot just to annoy me. There is no internet." "Oh right, because of the whole, thing, riiight." "I know you're better than this." OJ proceeds to look at his reflection in the tinted window of the SUV. "You're going to be the death of me."

Walking up to the house, OJ circles it, seeing a gate at the side of the house between the shrubbery fences. He continues on around it, coming all the way back around to the front. "No windows are open." "Thank you captain." "Let's just see if the door is unlocked." Which it was unlocked. OJ steps into the house, and there's a smell permeating the air. A smell of decomposing bodies. "And I thought it smelled bad, on the outside." OJ holds the bridge of his nose in between his eyes with his left index finger and thumb, letting out a sigh. He makes himself alert, on high guard with his shotgun in hand clearing out the rooms. He heads into hallway with coloring stains on the walls. "Kid must have lived here and pissed off his parents." "I wonder what that's like." "Don't I know."

He finds keys in a keybowl in the hallway. "Good, alright, can we go now? This place reeks, seriously." "It does, it really does. This isn't right aren't the people evacuated or at least tried to?" "Yeah, they either got a way or they're in the streets." "I'm checking this out." OJ heads upstairs, where the stench grows more foul by the step. Sweeping from room to room, opening doors carefully and entering, clearing out every room. Until he comes to a room with a door slightly ajar, the walls look pink and have cartoonish stickers stuck on them. He pushes the door open with his left hand to see what appears to be a little girl in a dress, mouth dripping with blood as it gnaws on the corpse of its headless mother. The girl looks up and sees OJ.

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The little girl lets out a hissing growl which sputters flesh and blood out of her mouth. She is quickly on her feet and charges toward OJ who stands frozen in some amount of shock and horror. He quickly snaps himself out of the stupor, with just enough time to raise the barrel of the shotgun up while the girl's stomach preses against it. He pulls the trigger. *Bang* The shot knocks the girl away, the fresh wound oozes puss and blood. The contents of her stomach begin to spill out before OJ, bits of her mother scatter the floor. Just before she can charge again OJ has raised the gun to offer release, by blowing a hole in her head, splattering the pink walls with grey matter.

"I've heard about incest where the daughter eats the mother out. But this is taking it too far." "Hey, we're getting out of here right now. If there was one there could be others. I don't want to know what kind of things could be attracted to two shots like that." "Why don't you shoot her again? That felt kind of good." "Because we're going to get out of here. Now." "Fine, but one of these days you're going to learn to stop and smell the roses. Or stop and shoot the corpses, whichever comes first."

OJ runs down to the front door and checks his survival bag for a little rubber tubing and a ziploc plastic freezer bag. "Alright, so let's check the SUV to see how much gas it has, then siphon some from nearby cars as needed." "Stealing is a crime." "Laws have little meaning these days." "Do you really think that? That you can do whatever is necessary to survive?" "It's what we've been doing all this time. It's what we had to do to..." OJ touches the scar on his cheek and a pain shoots through his heart. "And who is to say where this mentality stops my boy? Even in these days, there needs to be law and a tangible force enforcing it." "Yeah, sure, well right now we need to get out of here. This place isn't safe."

Opening the door OJ sprints to the SUV, opens the door and shoves the key into the ignition much in the way a virgin would. He turns the SUV over and it's running. "Good, but, ah fuck!" "What is it?" "Not even one quarter of a tank. I really hate the people that could never keep their cars over a quarter." "Looks like you've got some sucking to do. Might as well get some practice now if everyone is allowed to do whatever they want to." OJ brushes the nonsense aside and and gets out, he findes the gas cap and opens it. "Still nothing." He says looking around the area to see if anything has come for him because of the gunshots. Next he runs across the street and begins siphoning the gas of other cars into his bag, making multiple trips back and forth.

It's been about 10 minutes now and OJ has siphoned enough gas from surrounding cars to put his over 3/4 full. "This will do us for awhile, for now we have just got to get out of here." "I told you earlier I had a bad feeling." "I'm going already!" OJ puts the vehicle into drive and looks into the rear-view mirror. For only a second they were there before ducking behind another automobile. But OJ saw two men with guns. "Yup, bad bad feeling here, step on it." "You really don't have to tell me twice." OJ peels out and zooms off down the street, looking back in the mirror four men now stand in the middle of the street. "They aren't giving chase." "They don't want none of this right here, I'd blast all of they asses!" OJ sets off, with a decent mode of transportation, a fair amount of supplies, and the loving company of himself. "Where to boss?" "We're getting away from here. Let's just go south until we hit a couple of towns away from here. Most sightings were reported from the north and west of here before we lost communications.

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