DEFCOИ: Rewritten

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Placement

-V-

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Kyle was never one to go outside often, and was most commonly found within the confines of his household, exploring virtual worlds and playing with friends that he had never before met outside of his artificial life. That is why when he regained consciousness in the middle of a VERY dark forest, surrounded by hundreds of peering eyes, reawakening in a new, muscular fit body, his mind nearly gave out in stress. However, after the initial minute of sitting there, fearful of what these unseen monsters were to unleash upon him, he realized that he had the 'gay ass fucking pistol' from his favorite game strapped to his hip. He quickly pulled it out with foreign reflexes and flew into a routine that he had practiced within the gaming realm, flying forward with a knife in one hand, and a pistol in the other, he set about making it out of the damn forest alive.

One of the creatures leaped forward, and were it not for the luminous red eyes, he would not have seen it coming, nor would he have driven the blade into the skull of the creature. To his right, something had shifted, and his pistol had shot up towards it, releasing eager lead bullets towards the hidden foe.

The sound of a crumpling body was enough to give the results he needed.

He spun around once more, a fragmentation grenade seemingly flashing into his hand, before it was sent flying into a crowd of the shadow creatures. The explosion sent them flying, and blood caked the floor. He sprinted forward, leaping off of a rock, and madly slashing anything that moved with his knife. One of the creatures leapt behind him and chomped down onto his shoulder, and he could feel every one of the jagged teeth pull into his flesh. He lifted the pistol and leveled it, releasing another round and knocking the creature loose.

He could feel the pain of the bite as he ran, and he could taste copper in his mouth.

This was real.

There's no respawn.

This is immersion.

This...

"This is fucking awesome!" He hollered as he went.

Cutting through them, he did not noticed them rising again behind him, limbs reforming and building themselves at odd angles. He ran through the treeline, and checked his newly acquired clothing, a ripped up FBI coat, but otherwise normal pants and dress shoes. He heard something behind him, and in the pale moonlight shining through above him, he could see bloodied, shambling masses, slowly picking up speed as the quadrupedal monsters reformed.

He gasped, then grinned.

This was going to be awhile.

He ran back, his knife trailing behind him, and let out some very chilling chuckles as he got to the dark deeds.

Standing amidst the wreckage within the now torn apart house, Sam fashioned himself a bayonet to the end of a well-hidden L85A2 with a kitchen knife and duct-tape, but he heard something shift in the living room.

"Have you come back to haunt me, tan creature?!" Sam yelled as he ran into the living room with malicious intent splayed on his face.

However, what he saw was... unexpected.

There, in the corner, the 'thing' sat, its hooves cradling its head as it cried. It was actually gut-wrenching, and pitiful.

'Dafuq?'

Things like, 'Don't go near the thing', and 'Shoot it again' ran through his mind but instead he slowly approached.

"S-stop! N-no m-m-more! Ah'm s-s-orry!" It sobbed. She curled up harder and her sobs wracked her form.

What.

Slowly nearing it, he kept his weapon trained, and crouched down low. She was still fairly demonic looking, what with the giant, grotesque fucking batwings sprouting from its back, and the clearly razor sharp teeth within its mouth. She noticed him approaching, and recoiled further.

"P-please! D-don't hurt me a-anymore!"

'Shit man, this got emotional.'

He awkwardly leaned forward and embraced the thing with a hug, feeling it tense up as he grabbed it. However, a few awkward pats and murmurs of general nothingness, and it calmed down and stopped crying. He was about to retreat when she wrapped her forelegs around his waist and hugged him. For a minute all was silent.

"If you try to eat me, I'll tear you apart."

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Silence dominated the town, barren streets and dead buildings. It appeared as something from a cartoon, and while Alexei could wrap his mind around the demons that had plagued him, this was something else entirely. Under pale moonlight, he scanned the buildings for anything alive.

But there was no trace.

Small pieces of furniture and accessories littered the roads. There was not a sound besides the howling of the wind. Roaming, he came across a shop, where once majestic dresses were torn to shreds. The paleness of the area was depressing, how he had come so close to finding someone alive. In front of his feet, he saw a small little scooter cast aside, red markings along the handle bars. He sighed, and went down to pick it up, before something else caught his eye. In the darkness, he saw an orange light, and gazed upon a large tree, burning and smoking in the center of the town.

From the open door, embers soared through the air and rained down upon the town in a horrific grace.

This place was dead.

Still searching, he came upon a large, almost Russian-styled building, with a large atrium. He walked inside, and that was when he found the true nature of what isolation this town had. Within, markings of blood and refuse littered the floors, unrecognizable limbs lying here and there.

Had he not seen the sight before, he would have ejected his bowels.

Having ripped apart his jacket and exchanging it for bandages and cloth, he pulled lightly on his stained drab t-shirt, and set his sniper against the wall. He relaxed for a moment, and set down his backpack, pretending to rummage through it, before a very powerful handcannon sprung out of the bag and aimed towards the rafters.

"Move and die, приятель."

Slowly looking up, he met the eyes of a very surprised... horse? The horse had a crossbow tied to its foreleg, and with the other, propped it up.

There was only silence.

"You move, and you die, Diamond Dog." A voice said behind him, as the feeling of cold metal pressed against his neck.

...

"выебать."

"What?" Said the voice behind him.

"It meaning 'fuck' in English."

"What's English?" The horse in the rafters asked.

...

"What tha fuck?"

Before anymore words could be exchanged, a white hoof flew through the darkness in front of him, and struck him in the face. He went limp, and fell on his side.

Everything went black, but before it was faded, he heard, "Spike, darling, be a dear and drag this fellow to the shelter, we cannot leave him hear for the vamponies,"

A repeat,

'What tha fuck?'