Author's Note: The character in this story is very loosely based on myself. In other words, only parts of my personality and interests have been transferred over. Happy reading. Cheers!
Reference note:
*Sounds*
'Thoughts'
"Speaking"
*Groan*
"What? What just happened?" I ask myself, groggily waking up in the middle of a random snowy forest.
'What's in my? Colt? How did I?' My brain jump-starts once I realize what I am holding. Quickly i remember that I had just gone to the gun range. I rented a Colt 1911 and got five… I think… magazines. I walked into the actual firing range, and then promptly woke up in the middle of a freaking forest.
'Alright.' I think, taking stock of the situation. 'What do I have on me?' I think while checking my clothes.'Black greatcoat. alright then.' I think, noticing the heavy garment. 'Black shirt.' I think to myself, peeking under the buttoned coat. 'Black and red camo cargo pants, four pockets, nice.' (Imagine the Chinese Firestarter camo from BF4) 'Five magazines: seven rounds each and one spare round.' I think, checking the lower pair of my pockets. 'Iphone, solar powered pocket charger. Neat.' I think, checking my left pocket. 'Knife: folding, something's missing.' I think, knowing that I am short something, then it dawns on me: 'My wallet, where's my wallet.' I think frantically, searching my pockets.
A wolf howls in the distance. 'That doesn't sound scary at all.' I think to myself, picking up the Colt, sliding a magazine into place, pulling the slide back, removing the magazine, topping it off with the lone bullet, and replacing it. 'All cannoned up now.' I think, holding the pistol with both hands, angled towards the ground.
Suddenly, gunshots ring out from the distance.
'Shit! Cover!' I think, rushing behind the nearest tree.
'Towards or away?' Is my next thought and, considering that I have no idea where the hell I am right now, a very important question.
'Towards.' I decide, dodging between trees as I advance.
'That.' I think to myself, coming across the... dissolving?... corpse of a massive wolf-like bipedal creature. 'Is not natural.' I think, flicking off the safety on the Colt.
A low growl sounded in front of me while I was busy examining the corpse. (Read: poking it with a stick… a long stick)
"OHSHIT!" I shout, bringing up the Colt and fire five rounds rapid into the thing's chest.
It falls over, dead. 'Some days, I have good luck. I think to myself, some of the mortal terror bleeding off. That is, until another one of those things jumps at me. I, of course, jump back, receiving a nasty flesh wound to my lower leg. "ARGGGH!" I scream out because, you know, I'm pretty much wolf-meat now. "DAMMIT MURPHY!" I shout, invoking the unholy namesake of Murphy's Law while weakly bringing the Colt up and barely managing to squeeze off two rounds before a red blur sweeps in and everything fades to black.
