"Endings are no fun. Lets just say . . . 'To be continued' eh?"
"Give in to sleep. Your time is over."
Emptiness surrounds. Little can be found in the darkness that surrounds him. All he can do is wait for it to end, and for whatever comes next.
He never found himself a religious man, but in the end who can say they are not. He is in shock. He has been in it enough times to tell. The short flashes of sensory consciousness nearly overwhelm him. Gunshots, a soft warm stream dribbling from his mouth, cold all around him, and the searing heat in his chest. The sharp pang giving a brief laps in the fog lets him remember, vaguely at least, what happened.
Pure rage and hate fills his body, those bastards had not even given him a fair fight. At least the caravan might make it. He hoped so anyway. They were nice people. They deserve that mu- Gah!
Fresh pain fills him as something heavy falls on top of him. Huh what irony. One dead corpse on top of a nearly dead corpse. Maybe, just maybe, he could reach his revolver. The last hope he had.
"No hope. Let go."
What was that? Maybe it was God? The Devil? St. Michael? His mom always told him the stories from the bible. St. Michael was his favorite. The angel saint who protected and watched over people. Maybe if he prayed to him this wouldn't have happened? Too many questions. Either way he didn't care. He'd done enough bad things to go to hell, but hadn't he done enough good to balance out?. Oh what the fuck does it matter anymore anyway. The only thing he can do now is wait for death.
No.
Not yet you bastard.
I still have some fight left in me.
BOOM
A huge explosion assaulted his ears as he saw a tower lean at a dangerous angle threatening to fall at any moment.
Just a little further. He strained as he was about to reach his weapon. The cool metal just touching his fingers. No not cool. So cold it burned to touch. But it was all he had. Maybe he could take one of those sons a’ bitches with him. Just one would give him back his pride before he faded into nothing.
The weapon fit into his hands well. Its weight gave him comforting strength and he was able to drag it out to his side. His arm held straight out parallel to the ground he could see him. Another man.
"He will follow. He will rape. He will murder. He will be the villain"
"Shut up voice. You can have me in a second" the man mumbled under rasping breaths. The iron-sights lined up over his eye-patch. Bastard probably didn't even need the damn thing. That black armor covered all but his head, and even half of that was covered in a scarf.
The gun worked its mechanical feat as he pulled back the trigger. Gears, and springs, and others little metal parts began to do the thing they've done so many times before, but this time it was quite possible that this was the last time this gun was fire from his hands. But it would be done in the name of those lost today. In the name of those people that had so quickly become his friends in this frozen over hell. So close now just a little more. The hammer pulling back, almost nearing its full height. Welcome to hell asshole.
CRACK
A single shot rang out across the snow covered valley. Every eye turned to the lone caravaneer seeing his glossy eyes wide in horror as he saw his own gun fly from his hands and into the body of the fallen on top of him. He glanced to see merciless eyes stare out from behind a high-powered rifle.
“Sorry boss, thought I downed that one."
"It's fine. Aint dead yet am I? Now, this one's got something I like to see." The black armored menace snickered uncovering his face to reveal a short cropped white beard. Pure as snow, but the words coming from his lips were far less than pure. "And the only thing i like more than a good raid is a good raid with a bit a fun at the end of it. Maybe you could provide us with a little entertainment here while we loot these here corpses."
Bastard. "Fuck you!" The man stammered, unable to talk clearly with the blood pooling in his mouth.
"Ooo-hoo-hoo! This one's got a lot of fight! Tell me son whats your name boy? I think i might just tell the story of how you almost killed me!"
"Michael. The protector."
"Michael." That wasn't right he knew it, but Michael sounded better than whatever his old name was.
"Michael. Well isn't that funny because my name is Mikael. Ya know what that is son? It's Russian. It pretty much means Michael in Russian! Ha! Well i guess this is gonna be the story where try to kill myself!" The mad man begins snickering, which turns into laughing, which turns to him almost falling over laughing hysterically.
His good time is cut off by the sound of metal groaning and giving way. The entire high-line pole coming down and landing on top of a nuclear powered car. Flames burst from the mini-nuke as the insane man in black, Mikael, begins to understand what Michael already knew.
BOOM
Another explosion fills the canyon as the exploding car sets off several other vehicles. Everywhere cars, military vehicles, and buses are destroyed leaving nothing behind but a large crater where a moment ago one caravaneer tried to seek revenge on a mad man intent on letting him suffer for trying to kill him.
Once more darkness surrounds him, but this time the voice that filled Michael's head is clearer now. As if it is 'in' his head. It speaks to him one more time before he slips into what seems like a never ending fog. One that is terrifying, yet holds the hope of one day escaping into the light.
"The man in black has been killed, but he is not yet defeated. You will be sent with him to a land not of this one. There you will do one of two things. You will either die, or you will kill him and his companions. Either way it will be on even ground."
Author's Note
Give any criticism you need to understand the story. I think its good, but that might just be the hour of non-stop writing and self editing talking. Let me know if you want to do anything with the story in this or future chapter's! (art, YouTube readings, help, etc.)
He awoke the same way he fell into the void. In pain. The first thing he felt was the all to familiar pain in his chest, but something was different. It was not quite as intense as it was before. He lay on the ground under the weight of his dead companion. Andrea. That was her name.
Pushing her off he found his revolver not far from where he lay. With great pain he stood up, trying with all of his might to stay on two feet. However, gravity had other problems as he was forced back down onto his hands and knees. From there he crawled.
"I need that gun, it's the only one I'd trust with my life." Good. He was thinking clearly now. Clear enough for the time being anyway.
Reaching the piece of expert craftsmanship he found it to be damaged. The Barrel of the weapon was damaged, near the iron-sights. Close enough to the center of the gun to tear it from his grasp. He wouldn't be able to use this gun.
Looking around for any other weapons that may be scattered he noticed that he was no longer in the deep valley that he nearly met his fate in. He was close to a cave with a dangerous overhang and an expanse of flat, snow covered, wind whipped ground next to it. Deciding spending the night outside in an empty field in an unknown location was a bad idea, The man began to trek toward the cave entrance.
His steps were hard and became more difficult with every passing step.
"You..." The man froze and reached for the revolver that was damaged beyond use. Only pulling away when he realized that it would be of no help against any threat. Looking down Leaning on the back of one of the pack brahmin was one of the black armored bandits that killed his friends, and nearly him. "Do me a favor, . . . and kill me".
This confused the man. Looking closer at the assailant he found a large piece of shrapnel sticking out of the bandit's chest. Right between the plates of armor.
"Why?" asked the man.
"Because if you do . . . I'll tell you where my rifle is." The bandit then looked straight into his eyes. Those eyes of cold calculated precision that once stared from behind a high powered rifle, One that the man wanted. "And the name you gave us. . ."
"Why would I want to know that?"
"Because . . . I heard the way you said it . . . It sounded foreign on your lips . . . Like you were speaking the name of a long lost friend . . . And although names can be considered just that . . . One of a saint is one to be held tight . . . whether given at birth or rebirth."
"Well, arn't you just the philosopher. And how am I supposed to kill you anyway? My revolver that you shot is nearly broken in two!"
"Surely your caravan had a saw. And that knife on your belt will do just fine."
"Why the hell would i need a saw?"
Snickering the man in black continued."Surely you don't expect me to spell everything out for you . . . After all I am in a lot of pain."
"And yet you still speak in fucking vagueness and riddles!" Maybe it was he who was speaking so quietly that it sounded like another voice, but then what was that about even ground? "Damn Voice." the man mumbled. Quite the bad habit he had mumbling when he wasn't supposed to.
"So you hear it too . . . Just thought it was the shock . . . Maybe this was meant to be . . . The voice and 'even ground' . . . That is something that that wretched man thought was only for the weak . . . An excuse he called it . . . But it is not . . . It is honor."
"Question two: why the hell are you so chivalrous all of a sudden. You were trying to kill me about an hour ago."
"Well no, It was nothing personal . . . I owed that man my life . . . And my debt if finally repaid."
"What did he do?"
"Nothing of your concern." Seeing those cold eyes regard him with a stare so great he had to simply drop the subject. Or risk being petrified.
"I assume he saved your life."
"You are correct . . . Now stop assuming . . . Or no gun."
"What if I saved your life?" Curious now on a new subject the man continued.
"I asked for death and all you want to do is keep me alive in this wretched world!"
"Ha! If we are even in the same world!" The man slumping down to a sitting position. Even this simple task was almost too much on his body.
"You are once again . . . Correct. I've been looking around. Look at the sun, and the moon."
Looking at the sky the man saw both the sun and moon up in the sky but not like an eclipse that he had seen many times before. They were in seemingly random spots.
"But how?"
"I have no idea, but if that's not enough, the moon is also whole. Our 'old' moon was in pieces. Shattered by a war that was not our own."
Insanity. A new world? but how? Maybe he shouldn't kill this bandit. He seems tame enough. Smarter that your average bandit that's for sure. He would need help. And he'd be dead if he went on without as much as he would with the man. Going to the pack brahmin the man found what little medical supplies were on the creature.
"What are you doing?" The bandit asked with a sharp turn of his head.
The man was sharp in his response. "Saving your life. It's payment for breaking my gun."
The bandit looked confused and ponderous. After a minute of staring and some very interesting snow he came to a conclusion. It was the most confident statement the man has ever heard. He Thinks. "Very well, but not for your gun. I may have been a bandit, but I relinquish that life for one of assistance. I will aid you in survival as long as you swear to me that you will get me back to the wasteland. So that i may continue helping. It is all i can do to make up for what I have done."
"Fine, as long as we have a common goal."
"And if your going to be saving my life I'm going to need to yell at you every time you screw up. So to save us from later confusion I am Carter, Simply Carter, and you are Michael. I expect you to live up to his name."
"How do you know so much about Saints?"
"I've read the Bible once or twice."
"Really?"
"Yes. Three times actually. It's really quite inspiring."
"OK. But now I'm going to need you to sit still while i remove a piece of car from you."
"That may possibly be the strangest thing I've ever heard."
"Stranger than hearing someone tell you your own name?"
"Hmm . . . I take that back. You win."
After nearly an hour of shouting, cursing, and decent medical application the duo finally had the piece of shrapnel removed and the wound treated and bandaged. With little left to do but heal both men scavenged what they could from the wreckage and toted it to the cave where Carter almost immediately began to work on making a fire out of boxes and scraps of clothing.
"OK, so we have one hunting rife plus scope, one damaged revolver, and three hunting knives. We have enough food and water to last us about two weeks, not to mention the little ammunition."
"It was not that little."
"You have only three clips in that hunting rifle."
"Fifteen shots is more than enough for the job it requires."
"And that is?"
"Spare ammunition until enough is found that we can afford to waste it."
"One can never afford to waste ammo."
"Exactly."
"Stop speaking in riddles."
"It's just the way I talk."
"Fine. Just hurry up and get that fire going. It's absolutely fucking freezing in here!"
"Very well just- GET DOWN!" Carter tacked Michael to the ground with tremendous force and agility for one that was so recently injured. As soon as the two hit the ground a large barrage of bullets swept across the cave.
Grabbing his rife Carter began to crawl to a better position while Michael scrambled for cover behind the nearest boulder. Carter's shots were far between, but every shot hit it's mark of the unknown assailants. Michael could see little but shadowy figures just outside the cave.
The hail of bullets continued across the cave as Michael finally began to get a better look at the attackers. They had their guns at their sides, like where a rider would keep his gun on a horse. Looking closer He saw that there no riders. Only the horses biting down on what appeared to be bridles of sorts. He could not make out any other features due to the range and bullets forcing him back into cover every other second. Surprisingly no bullets found their mark. These horses were very bad shots, well that was to be expected really. They're only horses.
Several of the creatures jerking to the side as one of carter's bullets found its mark on either the skull or neck of the creature. Carter was going for kill shots. Few times did he miss. Only missing due to what appeared to be a brief spout of pain in the man's chest. To be expected. He was hit by a piece of a car for God's sake.
Seeing their companions falling left and right the final horses decided to retreat and scrounge up what positives came from such a wild and poorly planned attack.
"RETREAT! FUCKING RETREAT!" One of the horses yelled with such magnitude to be heard above the hail of gunfire. A talking horse was a feat in it's own, but one that was loud was just rubbing in the whole 'new world' thing a bit too much.
As the final horses disappeared over the horizon Carter and Michael rose from their hiding spots in the cave.
"What in the fuck." Michael simply stated as he approached one of the creatures that had stumbled into the cave. Just far enough that the light revealed it's features. It was bright pink. "Seriously. What in the fuck"
"No clue."
"So what now?"
"Isn't it obvious? We see if any of their ammo fits out guns."
"Loot the dead. Got it."
LEVEL UP: Michael
Welcome to level 2!
Strength: 6
Perception: 4
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Perk Gained!
Near Death Experience:
Your experience in the near death has given you the ability to hear a vague creepy voice in your head! Although this may not seem good it seems to know what it's doing. You will gain +2 to luck and intelligence when your HP drops below 25.
NEW PARTY MEMBER: Carter
A strange man with darker skin you saved upon entering a strange world. It may be a mistake to trust a bandit, but if you ever want to trust any bandit, You would want it to be him. Incredibly intelligent and perceptive he lacks strength and charisma due to his obsession with books. His training however keeps his other skills in check! All except his luck, which he counts on little. He trusts his own skills better anyway.
MEMBER PERK: Keen Eye
Carter's keen eye will sometimes get you out of trouble, but its only if those on the other end are careless enough to give away their position. Happy hunting!
Author's Note
Here's chapter two! and if you couldn't guess . . . Those 'horses' are ponies.
Michael isn't all that versed in animal knowledge, but maybe someone is.
Again, feel free to comment and like or dislike. GIVE ME FEEDBACK DAMN IT!
Also, Chapters will be getting longer as time goes on. Not a whole lot is happening now is all.
