And here it is!! The introductory fic for this section.

This is a fiction set in Larry Correia's Monster Hunter International universe.

It's a little differant than many of my other fic. Being that the antagonist is told in first person, while everything else takes place in 3rd person POV.

A few things, will be changed a little later. These are the original crude ones, and I plan on changing some stuff a little later, mainly names,etc.

Let me know what you think!!!!

Stifling a yawn, I glanced at the tractor's clock. Twelve o'clock. This was one of the times I hated working on a ranch. While normal people were in bed sleeping, or at the very least out getting hammered enough to not care about not sleeping, here I was, going in circles in a field, baling hay.

Maybe it wouldn't be bad for a few nights, but this was the fourth, and doing it constantly had gotten boring. Circling the field, keeping the wind rows of hay between the tractor tires and looking behind to make sure it didn't plug up as it fed onto the baler's feed ramp, stopping every now and then to tie the bale and drop it out of the baler.

The only interesting thing to happen all night, was nearly flattening a porcupine as he scurried away from the tractor tires. I saw a few eyes, illuminated by the array of lights on the tractor, but nothing else entered the circle.

I yawned, not bothering to smother it. I reached up for the tractor's radio and flipped on the dial. This late, nothing was ever on. Regardless it would give me a few minutes of something new to do and kill time. I punched a button, switching it to AM and slowly turned through the frequencies. A station came on at 890. Wow, a first. Turning up the volume, the speakers words came over the radio.

"And the next person we have on the phone lines is Mike. Hello Mike, you're on night of the paranormal, all about the most important evidence on Vampires, werewolves an.."vvpppppt. I switched off the radio. Last thing I needed on a night like this was to listen to a spooks show. Not that it mattered, nothing like that existed. But it was sort of like hearing about a surgery. You might not see it, and never have to experiance it, but knowing the details makes you squeamish.

My hand almost unconciously went to my left hip. I didn't normally carry my .40 caliber 226 Sig crossdraw, but being twisted to the right on the tractor seat made it uncomfortable to carry on my right hip like normal. Like I did a dozen times a day, my palm bumped the bottom of the magazine, ensuring it was tightly latched, then over the top of my two magazine pouches, making sure the snaps were still connected. Technically they were Schrade knife pouches, but they worked. And they only cost me three dollars apiece for working as good.

The bale monitor beeped, signalling a full bale. I hit the button which started the tying process, after which it would kick out the bale and I'd be ready to go. Waiting for it, I thought ahead to the gunshow that was approaching in about two weeks. Yep, definately a Sig 220 in .45. I liked my .40, and my 1911 .45, but.... What the fuck?

A whitetail doe blazed across the path of light, running breakneck and disregarding the tractor. Only feet behind came a paired blur of motion. Two animals pursued the hapless deer, running so fast as to nearly be unrecognizable. They were into and out of the small circle of light in only a couple of seconds, but they looked like mangy dogs.

Me and dad had found a few deer the past few weeks, dead, but not eaten, which probably meant wild dogs, killing for the pleasure. Actually they were probably former town dogs, whose owners brought them into the country and released them to "run free and frolick in the fields", not realizing or caring that in reality, most became voracious killers, quickly realizing the fun of running down and killing something. Eventually ending up harassing livestock or chickens and then finding themselves on the wrong end of a rancher's rifle.

The baler's rear door slammed shut, and I put the tractor into forward gear and continued. Damn, if only I'd had a few more seconds I could have maybe nailed them before they got another deer. As many problems as dozens of deer caused, our population was low enough we didn't want unnecesary killing.

I continued around the field, thoughts again returning to the gunshow. I glanced back at the baler a moment, then looked ahead. Just at the end of the light's circle laid the carcass of a deer and clustered around it were two figures, partially obscured behind it's body.

"Dinnertime, eh, you assholes?" I muttered, slamming the tractor out of gear and opening the door. I reached across my body and unsnapped the holster, pulling the Sig free. The carcass was lit up by the tractor's lights and I stood on the tractor's steps, sighting over the hood as one of the animals raised it's head just slightly.

I got a glimpse of, what the hell? A deformed skull? just before touching off a round. The 180 grain full metal jacket tore into the skull of the creature, dropping it next to the carcass, the sound muffled by the roar of the tractor's engine. It's companion lept up from it's meal, and I sent three more .40 caliber slugs at it as it ran out of the light, jerking once as the last round hit it.

I paused on the steps, quickly exchanging the half spent magazine for a fresh one. I stepped down from the tractor and walked to the deer's carcass. As I approached a strange smell invaded my nostrels. It smelled like fireworks had just been set off. I marked it down as something the tractor was giving off, and then stepped around the deer, looking at the fallen creature. What met my eyes, sent a chill down my backbone.

Instead of a mangy, or deformed dog, laid something out of a horror movie. It was about the size of a dog, three or four feet long, but all resemblance ended there. It looked like a lizard, it's two forelegs shorter, and obviously better clawed than its muscular hind legs. It had freaking spines growing out of it's back! And the eyes, they were huge, they looked like saucers. And now that I was right on the body the fireworks smell, sulfer was overpowering, it's source now obvious.

As I watched it, the body twitched. Scaring the shit out of me, I raised the Sig and at a range of about six feet, fired two more slugs into it's skull. The body twitched again, this time definately in death throes, it's limbs go akimbo, and it's extremely short, spiked tail beat the the ground once.

But even as it did, a screech echoed out in the darkness. As my spine chilled again, I forced myself calm, and did what any logical person would do. I ran. Or at least as best I could, as even in my fear and adrenaline high state, I wanted to face the dark as much as possible. That's where the trouble would come from. I thought.

I had just reached the steps of the tractor, when a hiss cut above the noise of the engine. I glanced down, just glimpsing a grayish skin as it lept from behind the tractor's tire. It was too close to aim, I just pointed and pulled the trigger. The ten remaining rounds in the magazine were fired as quickly as the action could cycle. My point shooting was decent, and even rapid fire, I could keep rounds in a good circle at around five yards. But with the terror of having something out of a horror movie only feet away, my reaction was something less than spectactular. The creature jerked only twice as bullets hit it, before slamming into my leg and knocking me to the ground.

The bullet impacts had shifted it, and it had hit off balance. It's jaws snapped shut on a mouthful of my jeans and I caught a shimmer of long teeth as it jerked it's mouth free. It leaped off as if to re-orient itself and then turned back towards me. It's mouth opened and another hiss came from it's mouth.

I aimed my pistol, but it was then I realized the slide was locked back. Before I could reach for another magazine, the creature lept. It dove towards my neck, jaws whipping open. As fast as it happened, it felt like slow motion, raising the pistol and hitting the creature in the jaws, the gun getting stuck in his mouth. It kept the monster from gaining a mouthful of me, but it didn't stop the impact. What felt like a hundred pounds slammed into my chest, and then my left side erupted in fire as claws ripped at my shoulder and chest.

I nearly collapsed. The pain, the sensation of ripping into my muscles was almost too much. I wanted to pass out, just, forget it all and let this damn monster rip me apart. But as the creature let out another hiss, something snapped. I'll be damned if some pissant creature thinks it'll get a free meal.

I surged upward, at least as well as anyone could with a hundred pound monster on their chest, slamming punches into it. I may not have been a bodybuilder, but farming and ranching gave me better mucles than any desk job would have, and if nothing else, took it by surprise. It rolled off, and I pulled myself up, grabbing a step on the tractor, and delivering a vicious kick to it's head, then pulling myself towards the cab.

I just got one hand on the tractorcab's floorboard, when the creature lept and with it's mouth now free, latched onto my leg. I screamed, not a manly roar either, but a shrill, high pitched girly scream. Even then, in the pitch of battle I knew it. It began yanking, trying to pull me from my handhold. I hung on, my leg becoming the object in a demented tug of war. My fingers began slipping from their holds and in a final lunge I reached inside the cab for a solid grip. Instead, they wrapped around the head of the fire extinguisher that all of our tractors had.

With a final jerk, I was pulled from the tractor, but also yanked the heavy fire extinguisher with me. Now on the ground, the monster bit deeper into my leg, settling for holding it while his claws began stripping my legs.

With all the effort I could manage, I grabbed the extinguisher with both hands, and lunged upwards, bringing it squarely onto the big lizard's head. It let out a screech and released it's hold on my leg. With the weight off, I lost control. My body responded, but it almost felt as if I was watching in third person. Again I swung the fire extinguisher, hitting the monster on the head, and for the first time, it fell, and struggled dazedly on the ground. I kept hitting hit, three, then four more times.

I then remembered my knife. I always carried both a leatherman tool, and a folding Schrade knife. I dropped the heavy metal bottle, and fumbled at my sheath, unsnapping the container and clumsily withdrawing the knife. The monster struggled, just gaining it's feet as the blade locked open.

"DIE MOTHER FUCKER," even as I said it, I felt a fresh wave of adernaline hit me. I fell on the creature, thrusting the knife into it's neck. It let out another screeh, but fell silent as it's vocal chords were severed. It's blood pumped from his neck wound, the sulfiric smell overpowering, and even the blood slightly burning my hand. But I didn't care. For several minutes I continued stabbing the creature, even as it died from it's bleeding neck wound.

I finally fell back, against the tractor tire, trying to regain my breath. Who knows, maybe there's more than just the two out there. I struggled to get up, and I finally noticed my wounds. My left arm had quite moving, and as I looked at my legs, I could only see raw meat and tattered jeans. With the adrenaline fading, I collapsed, then tried to reach for my cell phone. Slowly, carefully I got my hand into the pocket.

Gone. Somewhere in the fight, I'd managed to lose it. But how will......And then I blacked out.