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The North Sea Calls For Him

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The North Sea Calls For Him Empty The North Sea Calls For Him

Post by Revival on Sun Feb 11, 2018 7:05 pm

Whish...CRACK.

The noise from a mans Mantis radiated with power, a thermal clip expunging sounded off as he walked. His armor didn't show any specs of a military. He was a mercenary, a killer, a brute, a man who no one wanted to see in his lifetime. He was just a simple annoyance who brought death wherever he went. The snow beneath his feat was crunching with intensity. A man who wandered through the wilderness, a place inhospitable to the rest of the inhabitants of earth; and he forced himself to walk. His armor was freshly charged, and he carried a portable charging case with him, alongside the mans Scorpion, and a combat knife holstered on his side. The man walked up to the crimson shade of snow, kneeling down as he looked at his quarry, a Dybowski Sika Deer. Native to Siberia. He started to gut it as he thought about the way he's traveled, starting At St. Petersburg, and he was making his way north, towards a location he would only know as home; despite its worries he was in the wilderness and planned to stay that way.

CRACRACRAK

He heard three bullets whiz from a rather loud weapon that shot bullets, the clank hit his armor as he ducked, the other two missed their shot wildly, as he drew his Scorpion, drawing it in favor, keeping it aimed as he looked in the direction, he saw the man who tried to kill him. A older gentleman, in his mid fifties, he started speaking in Russian, telling him to get away from him. To leave him be, he was traumatized because of the Reapers; no doubt. He quickly started to take his position, moving through Tree to tree as the man was shooting wildly, eventually the old man stopped firing; where the armored individual smacked him in the face with his fist, kicking his old-timey weapon away from the individual, kneeling down. Russian characters emblazened on his chestplate, black on a white armor.

Петров

The man soon screamed for his life, begging for him not to kill him, to save him, he was paranoid of the reapers. The man shook his head and he unclasped his helmet, showing a older look. The man looked to be in his fifties, but he was truly in his thirties. His hair was an aged blond, with a light gray film over his hair. Dark green eyes on his face as he looked at the older man, silently.

The Elder was clearly in his sixties, he was frail, weak, sick. He had clearly grey hair, his left eye was filled with cataracts, and his right eye was squinting hard at the armored fellow. He was shrivling in fear, scared of what this human might do at him. Before the mercenary spoke words to him.

"I am not here to harm you. I am not one of those monstrosities that live in this wasteland now, I saw them come from the sky, I saw what they did to my friends, I saw what they done to them. I saw what their lazers can do to a building and a human unlucky enough to be caught in the attack."

"Then what are you here to do?" the older man stated, scared.

"I'm simply doing my job, I have a home to go back to... my company is dead. I'm the last one here, and I have a mission to do." The Mercenary spoke to the elder, getting off of him and said "Do you mind if I bring my meal into your home? I'm not going to be able to carry an entire deer with me to my destination.

The elder simply nodded, grabbing his gun and running inside his home, as the mercenary simply walked to the deer he was gutting, leaving his helmet behind. he spotted out of the corner of his eye a Cinereous vulture perched on a tree branch. The man simply raised his Scorpion, which scared the animal off soon enough. The soldier of fortune began gutting the deer, stripping it of its guts rather quickly, the vulture was circling, it knew what it was getting as the Mercenary soon brought the meal towards the shack the old man resided in. He didn't expect help as he was huddled in a corner by a fireplace, as the man started to cut the deers meat into venison, his helmet was close to the fireplace, the elder tending the flame. As he cut the deer up he heard the man pipe up.

"Want help with that? I'm hungry too!"

The Mercenary simply nodded, his hair glowing in the fire as he continued to cut the deer up. The elder jumped up at the chance to help as he grabbed a butchers knife, helping him take the hide off of the deer and started butchering the meat to be preserved, grabbing a sack of salt as he started the preservation process.

The chopping of meat echoed in the home, until the dear was butchered, all that was left to be preserved was a backstrap, which the old man kept out, and he started to cook, two slabs of meat cooking over the fireplace as they both sat in silence. When the food was done and served, the both ate in silence, before the old man spoke up. "What's your name there?" The elders man wasn't the frail voice from before, but one of curiosity

"You can read, right? It's on my chest."

"Nope, I was never taught how to read, my dad and mom said it was for weak people. They raised me in the heart of Siberia to learn."

"Then why are you out here? The Mercenary asked in between mouthfuls of venison.

"My Wife wanted to see the ocean. Then she drowned in it. The old man cackled out loud, shaking his head" "Ah... Viola, I miss you."

The mercenary gave a chuckle in response, smiling I understand that." He said, finishing his food, standing up "I'll be heading to Servermosk, I have family there." He said, starting to walk out "You shouldn't be walking outside here anymore, this place isn't safe. If you see a soldier, take their help..."

"What is your name though? Please, I want to know it!" The elder asked curiously. "I want to give you the recognition you deserve!"

The elder stared back at the mercenary, as the mercenary walked away. The mercenary saying as he walked "You're not going to see me again, some people might not see me again, I'll be traveling from here to Servermosk, my father lives there alone and is needing help. I'm sure the locals are still helping him, and I am going to apologize to my father for what I did to him and my mother. I did some horrible things as a kid, and I need to do it for him. The mercenary stood, standing in the doorway, turning around as he grabbed his helmet, saying "I am C-" he stops himself, before he continues "-Iona Vladimir Petrov... Mercenary, mercenary for hire. I hope you have are able to survive, the Reapers are dangerous, and I can't let you get injured, not anyone else... they don't deserve it.

The elder stared at him, nodding as he stood up "I am Dimitri Isay Sokolov... I used to be a crab fisher."

Iona gave him a grin, extending his hand "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dimitri, I won't forget your name.

And with that, Iona Vladimir Petrov stepped out of the mans home, walking onwards on his mission to Severomorsk.

The North Sea called for him, and him alone.
Revival
Revival

Posts : 64
Join date : 2018-01-13
Age : 19
Location : New York

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