Spinning Heavy Vinyl

Cardboard covers and silence don't mix when Duke is running midday reconnaissance. I marched over to the low wooden credenza and spotted a heavy black vinyl record resting half-out of its sleeve like an unexploded plasma disc. I seized the ridged grooved rim with both gloved hands, braced my combat boots against the polished mahogany, and shoved that glossy slab right onto the turntable spindle. With a solid snap, it locked dead center onto the rubber mat. Then I reached up and swung the metallic tone-arm straight toward the groove. Duke's battle sector needs thunderous bass to keep every extraterrestrial creep trembling.