Title: Fight For Survival
Summary: A memeber of the Atlantis expedition finds themself thrust into a vicious world of kill or be killed and has to fight for their very survival.
Paring: None.
Spoilers: Probably won't be any, but anything from season one is fair game.
Warnings: Semi-character death, Language, Violence, and Torture scenes are the huge ones. If anything else comes up I'll list it on the chapter it's in.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine. Only the story line and any made up characters that may appear in the story belong to me.
A/N: This is a definite WIP so updates probably won't be very regular, but I do promise to try and at least post once a week if not more. This is my first M rated story so I don't know how well this will work, but my muse is in a wumping mood so I figured I'd give it a shot.
Not Betaed
God it was cold, he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, even through his coat, gloves, and boots. If sombody had told him it was going to get this cold at night on this damn planet he would have said hell no to the mission and asked for the next planet on the list, but did anyone think to tell him? No of course not why would they care if he hated the cold with a passion? Give him nice sunny warm weather any day; not overly bright or hot, just a mild warmth that lazily caressed his skin.
He sighed and ducked his head, blowing on his numb hands in an attempt to warm them. Listening to the sharp sound of leaves and twigs crunching under his boots he passed by the fire, which offered little relief from the cold, merely light to see by. He stayed near the fire for a moment, looking around the camp. The camp was deserted, the others were already tucked away in bed, a lot warmer than he was at the moment. Still, a wave of unease flooded his body, making his pulse race and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn't fear, not quite, just wariness, uncertainty, anxiety.
He shook his head, telling himself that he was being ridiculous, as far as anyone could tell this planet was deserted. Moving away from the fire, he stepped into the shadows of the night and continued walking the perimeter of camp. Even if someone did attack him - which was highly unlikely because nobody would be stupid enough to be out in this cold unless they had no choice - he was more than capable of dealing with them and if not his team was only a shout away. He was being foolish and he knew he should stop wasting time thinking about all the bad things that could go wrong, but something just kept nagging at the back of his mind.
The attack came out of nowhere. Only his quick reflexes and extensive combat training kept him from being gutted, but the reaction cost him his gun. Twisting around to his right, he turned around to face the attacker, or rather, attackers. He couldn't be sure exactly how many there were, they seemed to blend into the shadows until their bodies meshed together into one solid shadow filled with the glinting of knives.
Raising his fists, he fell back into a defensive position and waited for them to come to him. He knew it would be stupid to go to them, he would lose. But if he let them come to him, he had a better chance of getting out of this alive. He briefly debated calling out to his teammates for help, but decided against it. From the way his attackers were focused on him there was a good chance they didn't know about the others and he didn't want to risk them getting hurt if he didn't have to.
Three rushed him at once, two holding knives, the third holding a blunt object of somekind. He brushed the blunt object aside, dropping down to sweep the attacker's legs out from under him. The attacker fell with a heavy thud, a groan spilling from the his lips, but he ignored it, already back on his feet and fighting the next man. Jumping back to dodge the knife, he delivered a sharp right hook, followed by an uppercut, and then knee-capped his opponet. The second attacker joined his friend on the ground, and he turned to face the last attacker.
The last attacker was faster than the other two, and his knife managed to make contact, taking a small chunk out of his side. The pain was sharp and immediate, small needles of pain spreading from the injury. He felt a thick, warm liquid form and drip down his side, warmer than normal because of his cold skin, but he ignored it. He raised an arm, brushing away the fist aimed at his head, and executed a textbook snap-kick, his booted foot connecting with the other's jaw. The attacker stumbled backwards, but didn't go down.
The other two men, he assumed they were men but they might have been tall, broad-shouldered and muscular women - boy would he get a load full if they were women and he got his ass kicked - rushed him, their weapons raised.
He tried to defend himself, his body moving flawlessly despite the cold. He punched, kicked, dodged, danced, but in the end, all it took was one lucky hit to the head to stop him cold. The punch split open his eyebrow. In the split-second it took to wipe the warm blood dripping into his eye away his feet were swept out from under him, and someone else pressed the cold barrel of a gun - his gun - against his temple.
He stared up at them from the ground, not moving, but glaring with everything he had, how dare the bastards use his own weapon against him. His body was tense as he waited for the punches, the kicks, the pain, to come but it never did. Instead, he was rolled over onto his stomach, someone pressing their knee down on his back another holding his shoulders to make sure he didn't move. Pain shot through his side from the stab wound, but he didn't cry out, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
The feel of something cold wrapping around his wrists caused him to twich. He frowned, wondering what was happening and knowing that it wasn't going to be good. The last thing he remembered thinking before they beat him unconscious was how stupid he'd been for not calling out to his team for help.
Alright there's the first chapter please review and let me know if I should continue. I have a basic idea about what will happen in this story I just have to get it worked out on paper.