So by far the most requested location for a 'Far Cry 5' is Australia. So here we are people, I'm writing it. A full blown full length adventure story set in a fictional Northwest Australian wilderness known as 'KUNARRA' reigned over by a deranged, sociopathic, historically obsessed racist tyrant who operates his business without the knowledge of the government, due to the remoteness of his location. I won't reveal much more, I want this story to speak for itself. With help from my loving girlfriend, this world can now exist. Note: This is almost a completely original story, but it does tie in and have strong links to the Far Cry universe which you'll see later. So in a sense, this can be considered a 'Far Cry 5'.

Cheers: JJZ-109


RED DUST

CHAPTER 1

MEET SOLOMON 'RED' ROGERS

Australia. What a country people think it is. Those that have never been there, and dare only to venture within the realms of their own region have a distorted, romanticized view of what the country is. A version of the African savannah, perhaps? Except devoid of large carnivores and filled with poisonous little critters instead. A Frontier untouched by man, so they think. Where there are Kangaroos everywhere that locals can ride, and big burly tanned Caucasian men in cowboy hats with big knives. It is an understandable assumption based on non-Australian Western media, but far from the truth. However foreigners are not the only ones to have a skewed definition of Australia, those that live within it and call it their home live in a similar illusion. They believe their country is a paradise, where everything is relaxed, easy, slow paced and everyone is more or less safe within their homes - and that they should be proud to call their country home. This is even further from the truth than the Frontier dream. The Australian dream is a comforting lie told to protect those that live within it.

Australia is not safe, and no, not in the sense that the little critters in your mailbox will crawl out from their webs and kill you when you turn your back. It is a haven. And the people have nothing to be proud of, or no reason to call their country their own. The enormous island nation is stolen property, and founded on bloodshed. Contrary to popular belief the British did not enter Australia, shake hands with the natives and shoo them away to build a great First World that the Indigenous could enter at a later date - the Aborigine Australians were chased off their homeland with rifles carried by British Redcoats, and if they resisted - they were shot. It was a simple, devastating equation for them. Since 1788 they had learned not to provoke such responses, instead of ways to encourage real change to the Western Empire.

Nonetheless the Australian dream prevailed, with the country becoming an economically steady platform in the Asia Pacific. People live on ridiculously high incomes, behave like rednecks, and drive to work to earn their bread like most other Anglophone countries.

The family life is simple - there's the father who earns the majority of the family money doing whatever simplistic job he is capable of that somehow relates to mining. His job is to be the bedrock of the family and operate the barbecue while simultaneously screaming at his football team on TV.

Then there is the mother, a seemingly heartless woman who also works for money that really goes to nobody but herself, and because of the un-instigated paranoia of sexism is over-desperate to assert herself in any situation she might come across. She'll cook the family unsatisfying meals on anything but a barbecue.

Then there are sons; those that fall far short of academic expectations and are also far too determined to assert their independence from their family at any given time. They often waste their schooling getting 'hammered' at parties and devoting what other time they have to becoming better at sports - an integral part of Australian culture that practically saves them from the misery they deserve and instead places them among the most esteemed in society as they progress from teenage lout, to Australian Rules Football prospect and then superstar.

And then there are the daughters. They're probably more prized children than sons, and always cast the shadow over them. Due to the academic system they are always working harder and better to achieve 'A's on their grade report and get into a good University, to get a good job, be respectable and provide an ideal citizen in the family. Fathers like to try and push them to this and often protect them more so than necessary. Because they're genuinely protective and care? No, daughters are just a financial drain. It's about what's in it for the parents, oh and because they saw that parenting style on some American TV show of course.

And so leaving their parents behind and heading off into the Australian illusion, the budding sports star and the Missy goody-two shoes dare venture into their own country.

Western Australia is an enormous state, it is hot, and it is desolate - with 90% of its population cornered into one city in the south of it. However its economy runs on the remote mining in its far north, with of course the mining reigning over the Indigenous community. So sometimes, a corporation who sponsors a huge AFL team will send a player up there to keep the locals content, by running football camps and having a community program with the football-crazed Indigenous. And of course the mines always need new engineers, people who generally attain high grades in school.

It did seem quite perfect for the brother and sister to attend a little expedition up in the far north together, along with another familiar face.

But that was where the illusion ended.

The daughter slowly came to, letting out an instinctive whimper as she did so, still yet unable to open her eyes. How her head hurt, throbbing at the back where something had hit her unexpectedly, and how her lip and jaw stung - from a fall perhaps? It seemed likely given she was knocked out cold.

Argh my lip... She thought to herself and made to dab it with her finger, but instantly found she was unable to. She was unable to move that entire arm very far as a matter of fact...Wait, make that both. Her wrists were stuck together painfully behind her back, by something thin and painfully tight.

"Ow what..." The daughter mumbled to herself and was now worried enough to open her eyes.

She had been moved, and wherever she was it wasn't awfully bright, the walls were made of rusting out corrugated iron, with some parts seemingly made from grey asbestos. The thin, sharp metal was peeling and curving out menacingly around the edges, and through the gaps that corrosion made, the harshly bright sunlight crept through, illuminating the entire small space with its golden glow. How did she get in here? Had she been kidnapped? It seemed possible given the countless corny locally produced horror movies there were about people getting kidnapped in the Outback.

She painfully turned her head, and what she saw perpendicular to her position instilled waves of panic as her worst fears were confirmed. It was a man, one of those from her bus trip, sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind it and a cloth gag restraining his mouth. She didn't even take interest in the fact she wasn't gagged, it was just all about the fact she'd finally, through her pain realized that she was also tied up, and on a wooden chair too.

What the hell was happening? That was it for her; it was a mistake to ever take the bus out here.

"What, no!" She breathed out desperately and tried to kick her also restrained feet.

"What's going on - HEY!" The daughter whined and began to feel her eyes swell with tears.

This couldn't be happening to her.

Taking another glance at the tied up man staring at her and shaking his head in response to her whining, she cried out again.

"Help me!" She yelled out to nobody in particular at the loudest her aching body could allow.

"LEMME GO! Hey! H-help us..." She cried out, now realizing the man didn't deserve to be there either.

"Let us go...l-let us go..." Her cries out were soon reduced to sobs, and she looked straight down at her lap.

"I wanna go home...please..." She just sat there sobbing in her chair, confused and distraught.

"I wanna go home...I don't deserve this...please...I wanna go home," She continued to whimper to herself.

As an almost instant reply, the rusting door to the shack swung open suddenly - making her jump back a little in fright. She wasn't sure to feel even more afraid or relieved that somebody had heard her at this stage. The sunlight poured in, forcing her to squint.

All she could see were three dark silhouettes stepping inside, men by the looks of it. The one in the center seemed to have some odd headwear judging by the outline of his black form against the sun.

Then the door shut behind them, and that was when the daughter knew to feel afraid.

They looked like makeshift soldiers, guerrillas maybe. Well only two of them at least. Standing between the two Viet-Cong-esque thugs was someone...or something, rather, that seemed to stop the waterworks flooding on her face, and induce an odd kind of quivering in her body.

Unlike the other two, who looked to be of Southeast Asian origin the one in the middle was a white Caucasian. And also unlike the other two, who wore dirty, dusty and minimal guerrilla like attire, mainly worn out cargo pants, singlets (or shirtless in one of their cases) with an abundance of supply pouches, and caps...this man was phenomenally dressed.

It wasn't just what looked like an elaborate uniform; it was as detailed as a costume. Other than his desert-camouflaged combat trousers the man wore a breathtaking scarlet jacket that appeared to be from an era long before, adorned with pristine white trimming, brass buttons on a blue strip, and another expensive looking white leather sash across the waistline and coming down from his shoulder.

The daughter slowly followed his appearance from his boots upward. The magnificent coat soon dawned on her - he was a British soldier? Did British troops still use jackets like that? She'd only seen them use that kind of dress in movies, set in either the pirate era or American Revolution; colonial times.

She continued her upwards gaze and finally saw his face, and for some reason felt like wriggling back. His stunning red coat was accompanied by one of those old colonial hats also from those movies, of which she could not remember the name. It was a large, wide brimmed black hat that folded up on three sides. Oh that was what it was called. A tricorner.

He also wore dark tinted aviator sunglasses, which he elegantly lowered as he slowly bent down over the daughter.

Her lower jaw trembled in anxiety as his face came within inches of hers.

"Your home?" He released his first words to her in a cool, yet strongly imposing English accent that matched his attire.

The daughter nodded fearfully, with tears staining her cheeks.

Within a second her head had been beat face her side, her cheek stinging under the force of the slap. It had all happened too fast, but how her cheek was burning from it, still tingling under the impact.

"You'd be nothing without us convict...'your' home my bloody foot. You have no home," The man raised his eyebrows at her as she managed to turn her head back around to face him.

He looked so casual, as if disciplining a child normally. That was the manner in which he moved, as if he was above her. And as of now, he was.

"Huh..." The daughter groaned out lowly, unsure of exactly what to think.

"Oh, aren't you aware of your proud history?" The red-coated man asked rhetorically, stepping back a little and holding up his hands enthusiastically.

"J-jesus...w-what do you want with me?" The daughter shuddered out the question.

The red-coated man turned to his side and placed his hands behind his back, breaking into a nonchalant pace before her.

"You people...you animals were sent here as prisoners of the Empire. Criminals. You lot...the aborigines...you might as well all be the same. All under the boot of control. Meant for nothing more than to live in chains. That was always how it was and how it ever shall be. You are nothing."

She felt herself shrink inside at the severity of that insult, and the pure fact he said that as a follow up to her question. Was that just it? Did he just see himself as a superior being to her and entitle himself to her like that? Was she to be raped because she was...who she was? A million paranoid questions raced through her mind as he lectured her. Whatever his motive was, he did certainly act like he has assumed dominance over her. And whether it was just her mother's stupid personality coming through in her, or her own anxiety brewing over at the severity of her situation the words escaped her lips as she watched him.

"You're crazy..." She whispered under her breath, and flinched at the impending consequence.

But there was none, the man had just drawn an AUS passport from his coat pocket and turned it open curiously.

"Charlotte...Audrey...Black." The daughter's eyes lit up as she heard him say it.

Charlotte Black was her name, though the first name 'Charlotte' was only ever reserved for times when she landed herself in trouble with her parents, since she never really seemed to with teachers and friends being the person she was. Charlie had been the nickname that had stuck to her since she was a toddler, and it was always a shock to hear somebody say her full name.

Especially the apparent leader of two soldiers who dressed like an 18th century Colonialist and had kidnapped and abused her and another person. A criminal.

"You are quite a point of interest..." The red-coated leader continued, reading through her passport along with other stolen documents.

"Give that back..." Charlie sniffled and looked at her passport.

The man in the red coat's head snapped up to face her instantly. Stepping forward again, he raised his arm across her, and delivered another pounding backhand.

"Ah!" Charlie winced and spat the blood that had pooled from her cut lip.

"Not showing respect to those who deserve it...no manners...tsk tsk." The man shook his tricorner-adorned head and went back to reading his papers, lowering his sunglasses again.

Charlie, fearing another strike, decided to remain silent for a while. She already hurt and didn't know if she could take much more, especially from such a large and powerful man such as him.

"Anyway, before I was so uncivilly interrupted..." The man shot a quick glance at Charlie before looking at the stolen papers again.

"You are interesting in what skills you may offer...normally a beauty such as yourself would be ideal for use as a little horizontal refreshment for the troops and then use as a decoration...however..." His voice trailed off and he looked Charlie up and down again.

Charlie reviled at his statement, her lips curling in disgust. Despite his gentlemanly accent and manner of speaking the bastard was far from it, she was so disgusted and beyond frightened by his implication.

"A UWA degree in the school of engineering...mining engineering. Impressive to say the minimum." The red-coated man nodded.

That means I won't die, right? she thought to herself.

"You could be of some use to us...hmm..." The man stroked his chin and thought to himself.

Charlie finally broke her silence. "Who's 'us'?"

She immediately came to regret that decision.

The man drew a dagger clipped onto his belt like lightning and swung it at her neck before she even had time to flinch. But instead of the slash he stopped at the last split second and looked into her eyes.

In full and entire eye contact, he smiled a little, tracing the tip of the blade from her neck down to the top of her chest.

"Are you fucking stupid?" His cool, and very smooth English voice suddenly became more hoarse.

He whacked the bottom of the hilt down on the top of her skull hard. Not hard enough to cause damage but hard enough to inflict silencing pain on her. Charlie knew he was capable of much more than what he was doing to her. And that was another thing that chilled her - he was noticeably holding back, as if he was perfectly experienced in exactly how to hurt people at his own pace.

"It is not your place nor a fucking right to ask me things like that!" The red-coated man's face shriveled up in disgust at her.

Charlie shunned back a little in her seat. "Okay..."

"Shh!" The man suddenly swooped in close and pressed a finger on her lips.

He moved his face in close to hers; so close he was within 'kissing' distance of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered to herself, as he grinned at the fear he was instilling.

"Now." He gently placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders. "Will you donate your abilities to us?"

Charlie didn't dare open her mouth or her eyes. Almost every interaction she had tried to make with him so far resulted in her being physically punished in some way, and she was on breaking point. Just...no more...

The man was folding his arms waiting for a reply, but he never got one so after a moment he looked down and chuckled to himself quietly.

"So I observe you practice reverse psychology..." He just stood before her, not looking at her, but looking up and all around him frustratedly.

"When you must shut up...you speak." His voice became hoarse like it was when he snapped before.

"And when you must speak...you shut up." The red-coated man sighed to himself.

Charlie had almost relaxed a little before the explosion of passion that followed. She felt herself being hurled back on her chair, not punched this time thankfully, but shoved back and the sickly feeling of falling back on a chair plagued her bowels.

"DO I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING JOKE TO YOU?"

Charlie's head clanged into the corrugated iron and she cried out in pain yet again as the red-coated man monstered over her. Looking to her side, she considered herself lucky that she did not land on the curling sharper edges of the eroding metallic walls.

"Is there something wrong with the way I'm addressing you, animal?" The Red coated man asked, removing his sunglasses to look at her.

"No..." Charlie shook her head and held back impending tears again.

The man took a step back and stretched out his arms.

"Well don't you fucking dare insult my intelligence by acting stupid, I've seen your paperwork. Is it something about me? Hmm? Is it my clothes, my civility, my mannerisms? Am I not worthy of your respect?" The man snarled at her, in his increasingly hoarse accent.

The accompanying gestures made him appear like some Shakespearean tragic character. Following his rant, he broke into another grin and chucked a little, shaking his head.

"N-n-no it's not..." Charlie trembled.

The man stepped away from her casually and turned his back.

"The countless people I've heard that from..." He thought aloud. "Many of whom are dead now, by the way..."

Charlie began to pant in terror. This man was a murderer.

"They were all like you, same pathetic look on their miserable faces." He continued, on another lecture.

Meanwhile Charlie had practically given up. She let herself slump back against the wall now that she was free of the chair, and something hot and sharp pierced her hand. She gasped but didn't dare cry out in pain, in fear of her captor. It was one of those sharp, corroding edges of the iron fencing and damn it had cut her good. It had slid up and made a reasonable indentation in her binding zip tie too, as a matter of fact.

That was when Charlie knew, she didn't have to die or live as someone's bitch. She had one more option blessed to her by nature. With the man's back turned, she slowly began rubbing her wrists against the gap between the floor and wall behind her.

Meanwhile the man fiddled with his knife, it was an intricately decorated weapon, double edged and with a decorative trigger underneath the cross-guard - making it a pistol dagger; a weapon from long ago.

"But of course..." The red-coated man turned back around, spinning the pistol-dagger on his thumb.

"You're different. I know you are. It's that look in those Emerald eyes, I can feel it...You're going to be something special to us. Especially with your credentials..." The right side of his lips flickered upwards a little, to form a half smile.

Charlie just kept staring at him.

"Now would you be willing to work with true power, and stand above the creatures you are part of?" The man offered, again only expecting one answer.

Charlie just internally prayed he hadn't seen what she was doing with her hands, and gave a weak nod; playing along.

"Okay..."

"Really?" The man asked, giving her cheek a light tap.

"Yes, really..."

The man's fierce, intimidating expression suddenly vanished. In its place was etched a crazily overjoyed one.

"EXCELLENT!"

"Excellent my dear..." He exclaimed and suddenly gripped her chin.

Pulling her forward, he suddenly planted a forceful and disgustingly wet kiss on her lips. "Ah."

Charlie wiggled her jaw free and cringed, curling her lips up in pure disgust.

"This is cause for celebration!" The red-coated man proclaimed and suddenly pointed his dagger at the tied up man seated adjacent Charlie.

BANG!

The man's chair lurched back violently and blood sprayed onto the dark wall, as smoking started steaming from the barrel of the man's pistol-knife.

"Fuck!" Charlie cried out in raw shock. A person had just been murdered before her eyes. She wasn't ready for this!

"That's the spirit! Oh look at that crimson it matches my coat perfectly, what do you think Carlo?" Before his assistant soldier could even answer him he spun to look at Charlie.

"And watch your mouth, whore. Don't ruin your own party."

Charlie had squeezed her eyes shut and the tears had started again regardless. She had just watched someone be killed before her, and so...casually. Like it was meant to be funny. She just whimpered and kept rubbing her zip-tie binding against the corroded iron edge, hoping for it to break.

But suddenly she was yanked to her feet, away from it.

"You and I m'dear, are going to mine a fortune!"


So there we are, our heroine and villain introduced. And yes, I made the lead female, a first for the series. Hope you guys are intrigued and want to see more, make sure to drop a review/fave/sub and all that good shit. By the way I know there might be offensive content in this. If you are anything that ends in "ist" (Racist, feminist, misandrist blah blah) I don't wanna hear it, really. If you got a gripe with my writing though the contrstuctive feedback would be appreciated to make this more enjoyable for everyone.

To be continued soon...

This has been JJZ-109, and as always, have a nice day.