Chapter Text
You were an airsoft player, celebrating a win with a few of your friends, then all in a blink of an eye; you were on the floor, arched on top of a wooden table which resembled stakes and splinters, crushed under your weight from the fall. You wince.
Mostly at the injuries that would add a hefty amount to your hospital bills.
Your body ached, bruises prominent on your back like flowering shrubs and never ending vines festering with thorns that cut at your skin, an agonizing, stinging pain forming from the gaps torn into your uniform due to the sharp edges of the wood, now stained with the blood leaking from your body.
You let out a strained grunt through your teeth, adjusting your position. Your hands dug through the material of the ground covered in grime in an attempt to lift yourself up from your present form as you sit yourself up, begining to analyze your surroundings. Despite your grogginess and blurry vision from the tears that coated thick around your eyes, you actually made out some of the stuff that laid around you.
From what you could see; you were in a warehouse of sorts. It looked as if nobody has been here in quite some time. The various broken furniture, dust laden boxes which you'd see in someone's untouched attic and randomly sprawled out materials spread over the ground you could see around the room seemed to give you that impression.
You searched for something to help with your wounds, finding nothing quite of use. You shut your eyes for a short moment, peeved; a wavering huff leaving your withered lips.
You really need to find water at some point.
After your momentary rest; You force yourself forward, basically carrying your legs up so you could walk as you couldn't find much in the place where you were sat. Your knees wobbled, and your bruised ankle practically screamed at you not to make any more movements — But alas, would you rather slowly bleed out to death on a rat diseased floor, possibly covered in degrading animal feces? Or, walk. (Both in excruciating pain.) So, you chose the latter.
Leaning onto a nearby desk, you steadied yourself as your hands delved into the pockets of your clothing, trying to find anything that could help you in this highly unrealistically situational formulated concept that the creator has made you put up with. You found a plastic handgun you used in past games, tossing the thing out with snit, deeming it useless.
You search for more items from the shelves that covered 90% of the room; all of them either being completely empty and festering all kinds of viruses and bacteria, or had items that just weren't worth your time. So, you search once again within the pockets of your clothing in desperation, managing to find your phone, but lucky you: The screen was completely shattered due to the fall; Deeming it — also useless.
You curse out loud, throwing the electronic device down onto the table in frustration, karma sharply back handing you by sending you a kick to the side, which hurt like thumbtacks the size of swords stabbing you in the waist. You blenched in precipitation, a choked whine straining like sandpaper against your throat. The cold warmth of Death's eternal grasp lingering tight around your neck.
Mentally and physically; You were drained. Dehydrated to the point you looked like an Egyptian mummy, and your entire figure felt like a needle holder. Or in more simpler terms; You wanted to fucking die.
You propped your hands down onto the table, arms like toothpicks; you could barely hold yourself up.
Suddenly,
A bang rings circles in your ears from outside.
You cringe at the noise, your eyes flickering in response, looking from side to side, near the exit of the warehouse. It came from outside. You identified it as gunshots and people slamming against a surface, but you weren't entirely sure. Whatever it was, it was near your location.
That wasn't good.
That was so not good.
You already had enough problems as is. All you wanted to do today was to play airsoft. How the absolute shit did you end up here, anyways? Aside from the growing pain in the arse this whole situation has been for you: You were also developing a migraine.
Then, as if your day could not get worse; The metal aperture of the room you were inside of was opened. Four..? silhouettes being visible inside carrying guns. Soldiers.
Shit.
An incoherent mumble extruded from your tongue, scrambling from your position but you tripped over your own feet instead and fell straight on your ass, knocking down a few items along the way.
(You mentally curse yourself for that one,)
"Oi! Who's there?! Show yourself!" A rugged voice yelled, whom you assumed to be British based off of the way the man's voice swayed in directions. Frozen in uncertainty and fear: you had no response, your ragged breathing filling the void of silence that served as a cage in of the room.
Hushed whispers were exchanged between the yet to be named soldiers, though you could guess some of what was said; you still couldn't quite understand most of what they were saying. Footsteps pursued onward, getting horribly closer to your position.
You were starting to drift off.
You hear a gun being prepped, and through the unclearness of your vision, you could see a blur of a figure. With one weird ass hairdo...
"Aye! Ye' there!" A loud voice echoed throughout your senses, but you didn't reply.
You close your eyes,
Your brain wandering off lonesome in the depths of the unknown black galaxy of mindless thought.