-- Location ??? Date ??? Time ???--
Fuck.. The last thing I remember was going to sleep in my VERY comfortable metal bunk bed in Turkey, concluding a quick job assigned to my mercenary band.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
So why am I at the front of an encampment which looks like a WW2 Re-enactment? I'm only able to see that I'm currently in a compact pit with trenches connecting to adjacent ones. What the fuck is this shit?
Tu-Tu-Tu-Tu
It's unbelievable to me what I just woke up into. A fucking grenade is rolling at the edge and is about to fall into my pit!
SHIT!
Diving into the trench, I curl into a ball and protect my head waiting for the inevitable noise I am all too familiar with.
Dink.
Ah, fuck thi-
BOOOOM!
Dirt smacks into the back of my hands, knocking me over along with a bunch of shrapnel.
Great! My ears are ringing like crazy, and I don't even know why I'm here!
Okay, quick thinking. Holster, right! Alright, there seems to be a handgun, which better than nothing.
Wait a second?
Bringing it up to my line of sight, I realize something. My god, this is an actual antique M1911 pistol, which means it should hold up to eight rounds a magazine. It reads on the side of the barrel, produced in 1942, patented by Stark Industries.
Stark Industries? I've never heard of this company even throughout all my years of mercenary work. Whatever, I'll worry about this later, it isn't the time or place.
Putting away my brief surprise, I pop the magazine out and count the bullets left in the mag, which has only six along with including the live chamber round.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Setting my magazine back in, I hear shots ringing off at all times, and you can practically envision the magazines just emptying themselves through desperation.
Tu-Tu
Hearing the all too familiar noise again, a man screams from across the trenches, "Take cover!"
Before the grenade can even finish rolling, with the instincts built up from many years of surviving as a mercenary, I furiously grip it without any hesitation and quickly lean out of the trench and chuck it back.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
BOOM!
"AHHH!! MY LEG! FUCKKK", Hearing screams from across the battlefield only enrages me more. Dulling my senses to the misery of the fallen on both sides, I
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Do they want to kill me before I even know what's happening? Not even in my earliest days would I enter a battle without full preparation! These fuckers.
BANG! BANG! BOOM!
Fuck! I will not die here on some unknown battlefield!
Realizing what I have to do, I grip the handle of my handgun and tumble out of the trench. Evading grenades exploding left and right with bullets flying past, the adrenaline fills my body and dulls my senses.
Coming from the direction I traveled from, allied soldiers are screaming over to me or muttering in confusion.
"What is he doing.."
"STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"COME BACK SOLDIER, FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS!"
BOOM!
Suddenly a stern voice hovered over the battlefield, "FOCUS ON YOURSELVES, HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS DYING FOR!".
Grateful to the man, the screams of other soldiers for me to go back, seeing some solid cover, I take cover behind a German tank flipped onto its side.
BANG! BANG! TING!
BOOM!
Taking a deep breath, I'm able to analyze where their supply line is.
Tracing past all of the fallen trees and shrubs surrounding their trenches, I form an on-the-spot plan using over a decade of experience and decide that using their blind spots and using distractions from the battle, it's possible to get past them quietly.
BOOM!
Slowly but surely, using every distraction made by explosions or bullets, I make my way past their frontlines and into their encampment.
Damn!
Of course, there's going to be a squad patrolling over here, I'm an idiot! Stifling my breath, I roll behind one of the crates swiftly and muffle my breath.
With a grunt, a tall man who appears to be their leader starts giving orders, "Check the entire area! Who knows what type of trouble with Maxon we could get into if we didn't perform our rounds. This is the only supply point for our frontline right now".
Hearing that, his men sigh in agreement and spread out in different directions.
The leader remains cross-armed where he is and gazes upon the skirts of the supply line fiercely. He's about 6"2, clear blue eyes, blonde hair, also has a captain's nazi uniform, and boasts a scar that covers his entire face vertically across his nose.
Lightly stretching my legs, I unsheathe my trench knife and get ready for a kill stance. I slow my breath and quietly start to close the distance between us while being wary of anything that could give away my location.
Staring down, he mutters to himself, "It's so tiring fighting day-to-day here. What are we even fighting for?" he sighs.
Making it right behind him without creating any noise, I kneel right behind him and mutter, "Our survival" while sighing internally.
Hearing me say that, he turns his body, but it's too late. Being careful of getting his clothes covered in blood, I stab through the temple of his head as he turns.
Schunk! Thunk.
Looking at my now bloodied hands, I get a brief flashback to the first time I got blood on my hands. A hoodied thug was beating the shit out of my dad while robbing him for chump change. Seeing this, I cracked his head open with an iron bar that I found in the alleyway.
It gives me a sense of relief like the time with my dad as I hear that calming noise as he collapses to the ground that signals me I'm safe. He didn't even know how this could happen even the moment he died.
I strip him of his clothes and change into them. Following after, I then hide his body in nearby bushes. This way, his squad won't find him when they return.
It's time to finish what I came here for, as I best not be here when they come back.
Working my way stealthily to the main supply section of the supply camp, I notice that there are oddly no soldiers on guard back here.
Something isn't right here. There should always be at least a dozen soldiers on duty with a supply point.
Swiftly glancing at my surroundings, I notice that some suspicious boot tracks travel somewhat out of the supply camp. Deciding to follow the tracks, I quickly find where they end. As I a pile of crudely placed shrubs.
Unveiling the shrubs, I verify my suspicions as there lays a thick circular metal trapdoor embedded into the dirt.