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JGJTan Icon : (05 July 2018 - 10:07 AM) So this has been a while! It's @jgjtan and @leftyy here having a nostalgia trip. We hope you all have been having a great time so far! Miss you, be back in another 5-10 years. (Or find me on social media -- it's not that hard.)
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"Stranger Beginnings" by Mathias Dosch Post-apocalyptic multi-series fanfic.

#1 User is offline   Ruckus Fox Icon

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Posted 31 October 2009 - 07:22 AM

Author Notes: I decided to do something "clean" for a change...take a break from my yiffy stuff. Sex sells...and it sells well. But sometimes you need to take a step back to see who you really are. How far you've come. This is in no way my best work...I'll always be best at eroticas, and that's the truth. I started this little story when I was bored earlier in the year and all of my friends received assignments to write a short story. I was kind of jealous...not having taken an English class this semester. So I wrote this while they wrote theirs. In no way does this story qualify...it's far too long. I hope you find some entertainment in it. Let me know what you think.

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Stranger Beginnings

I came to in a small building, if you can call it that. It was rectangular, had a roof, it was once made of wood. My head was swimming as I sat up. My vision gradually shifted from pitch blackness to images of dilapidated walls and musty sepia colors. Looking down at myself, I could see that I looked haggard and disposed. I got up slowly and performed an analysis of my functions…my arms worked, as did my legs. I appeared completely healthy. I could now see that the building I was in was an old barn, long forgotten but still left with old moldy hay for the bed I slept in. Thoughts raced through my mind…who was I? Where was I? As I questioned my existence I stepped through to the leftovers of a bathroom stall. There I stared long and hard at my reflection in the mirror. I was dressed shabbily in linen and leathers with a sort of western feel to my drab. I was a tall man then…lean and built. My face was unruly with five’o’clock shadow and my eyes matched my hair in a rich, deep brown color.

“Who the hell am I?” I asked to the mirror.
“Stranger.” A voice called out.
“What?” I responded.
“Stranger.”
“Stranger?”

The voice changed to the timid voice of an old man, and he asked again. “Stranger? Where are ya, stranger?”
I stepped out from the bathroom in an intimidating pose, ready for the worst. I was greeted by a short, bent, crooked old man with a wild beard and a twisted golden grin on his face.
“Well…there you are, stranger! I’ve been lookin’ for you…you took quite a hit on the head.”
“I…did?” The old man seemed to know me. Something about him told me that I could trust him. And he seemed to know me by name…Stranger. That must be my name.
“Hoo, yeah! I found ya lyin’ out in the fields in a puddle of yer own blood! Lucky I found ya before the hounds did…”
“I…can’t remember anything. How I got here…even where this place is.”
The old man spat ruefully onto the ground, “{expletive hax0rd by Cspace}hole. That’s where you are! A big pissbowl for all the scum of this glorious earth!” Clearly I had hit a nerve. “It wouldn’ta been so bad if it weren’t for the damn Pockyclypse.”
“Pocky…what?”
“Heh…you musta hit your head damn right hard, stranger! The Pockyclypse was a day when great metal birds flew the skies and dropped bombs upon all of the people who lived on the ground. It was the end of life as we done knowed it.” He spat again, this time striking a pail on the cold ground.
“I see…did I have anything on my person when you found me? Anything to give me a hint?”
The old man produced a wide-brim hat from a coat rack and a single coin from his pocket. “Yeah…here’s your hat, stranger. And you had this in your pocket.” He handed me the small circular coin. Much to my surprise, it wasn’t a coin at all…it was a small plastic chip with many small markings on it.
“What is it?”
“That’s credit! Apparently someone in Dry Ditch owes you something. It’s the closest thing to currency since the great bombs dropped.”
I took the chip and placed it in my pocket, then donned my hat. Just like that, I felt complete and rejuvenated. “Thanks old man. Just point me in the direction of Dry Ditch and I’ll take care of myself from here on out.”
“I’m sure you will, stranger. Just head on out and follow the road out to the fork, then head right. Be safe now.”

I left the old man to his affairs and set out on the road as he designated. The trek was long and boring…the scenery was little more than decayed houses and scraps of trees. The remainder was an arid dusty plain that stretched on forever. As I peaked on a small hill, I could see the bustling life of a small town nestled in a ridge side at the bottom of a gully. There were several smaller farm settlements stretched out at its roots. Looked like a cute little town from here…if only I knew what was laying in wait for me there. As I stepped down into the gully I could see a thin figure running towards me. It was a young girl…and she looked to be in trouble.

“Stranger! Stranger! Please help me, stranger!” She cried as she got closer. This one too…apparently I was well known before my amnesia.
“What seems to be the trouble, Miss?”
“Please, stranger! The Marauders are attacking Dry Ditch! They’re executing townfolk and they have my mama and papa. Please, stranger, you gotta help me.”

Now I don’t typically throw myself at any job possible, especially when there’s nothing in it for me…but it appeared that if I didn’t take care of these Marauders, I wouldn’t have anyone to collect my debt from in town. I agreed to help the young girl…she knew my name, so surely she must know who owes me a debt. On the way, the girl told me all about Max’s Marauders. They were a small band of troublemakers that came down out of the mountains of a place called Colorado; known for their ruthlessness their penchant for looting the many unprotected settlements of the wasteland. Real scum of the earth alright…but what was I going to do against a band of ragtag bandits? I had no weapons of any kind. In time, the young girl who I learned to be Molly lead me to her farmstead. The situation looked grim. It was a small ranch nestled into a dusty bowl carved out of the near-by ridges. Not high enough to be called a ridge, really, but just high enough to be inconvenient.

“Where's your Ma and Pa?” I asked.
“I-I don't know...last I saw, they was bein' rustled into the house!”
A typical ranch house stood on the opposite side of me. There were several guards posted around it, all smoking or laughing and joking. There was a small stable near-by that I used for cover while I observed the area, and a larger barn near the middle next to a giant dilapidated silo. As I got my bearings straight, the door to the ranch house swung open and a middle-aged woman was flung out onto the rusty dirt below. A man followed; an especially heinous man with a wicked grin on his face. A rotund angry man, bound with ropes, was pushed out of the door behind him and held at gun-point by many of the thugs. I could only assume these were the parents. I could make out some of the conversation between the ringleader and his lackies.

“You ain't gonna pay? Then we're gonna own you and your land! C'mon! Git'er up and take her to the stables! I'll be along shortly...then we'll have some REAL fun!” The father struggled at this. His wrath was palpable, even from my distance. I could tell he wanted to taste the other man's blood. The ringleader swung and backhanded the father, knocking him back into the house. He then slammed the door shut and cackled. “Now get back to work!”
“Molly.” I whispered softly, “Things could get real bad. I want you to find a safe place to hide. I'll take care of this.”
“But I wanna help!”
“You can help by staying out of my way...don't worry. I'll be safe.”

Molly finally agreed after much complaining and begging, then finally ran off to hide out behind the stables, pressed against the rock face and hidden behind tall bushes. I followed her to the backdoor as the goons approached the stable with the mother in tow. Thoughts raced through my mind...it was time to improvise. I waited a few long moments after the bandits entered the stable. I wanted to catch them off guard and unprepared. As the laughter had slowly died down, I crept up to the door and gently pushed it until there was a suitable crack for me to see through. The men were lashing the woman to a stall with rope...judging from the posture and the undeniably nasty grins on their faces, I could tell that the men had intended to rape her. One of the men began undoing his pants while the other checked the knots...this was my time to strike. I pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside, stepping on my toes as to keep the upper-hand until the very last moment. My instincts took over as I snatched up the handle of a slumbering mining pick next to an adjacent stall. I raised the handle high, then brought it down. The man preparing his entry turned quickly; eyes as wide as saucers as he saw the jagged slice of metal dig down into his friend's back, then protrude forward from his chest. There was no use for the pick any longer, so I let it rest in its new quarry. I turned to the other man; now on his back, pants at his ankles, blabbering like an imbecile.

“P-please! Hey now, stranger! D-don't do it. I can pay you whatever you like!” My hands gripped the handle of a near-by {expletive hax0rd by Cspace} shovel.
“Hey, stranger! Put that down! Please! I didn't mean nothin' by it!” I raised the shovel up, poised for judgment.
“Please! N-no! NOOOO!” The man's scream lasted but a second, then it was stamped out by the blade of the shovel cleaving through his throat. Seemed the shovel found a new profession in {expletive hax0rd by Cspace} scooping. I turned hastily and began untying the woman. She lashed out and struck me once across the cheek. I glowered at her, not flinching an inch. Her eyes caught mine, then she spoke.
“You're...not one of them.”
“No.”
“I can tell...you have gorgeous eyes. Very gentle. You could never hurt anyone.”
I smirked and turned, nodding to each body in chronological order. “Tell that to them.”
I helped the woman up to her feet and armed myself with the bandit's weapons. Two jet-black revolvers with extra long barrels...universal for utility; medium and short ranges. The wooden grips felt nice, and once again I felt more complete. They read “Colt .45 Long Colt,” the traditional Peacemaker of the wild west. One of the men had a pump shotgun complete with shells. Looked like my lucky day.
“Your daughter is outback. She found me on the road. Go hide with her. I've got some business to take care of.”
“Please, mister! You've gotta save my husband! I don't know what I'd do without Jeb!”
“Go be with your daughter, Ma'am. I said...I've got some business.” I didn't rightly know if the bandits spoke English by native tongue...but I figured the racking of a shotgun was a universal language.

I stepped out of the stable and scurried over to the shadows of the barn. It didn't look like anyone saw me. As I sidled up to the edge of the barn to peek around the edge, I could hear a scuffle coming from inside. It sounded like a fight. I peeked around to peer inside of the single-door. Inside, I saw that the rancher was thrashing about on the ground; the men were beating him. They all seemed distracted...so this was my best bet. I swung around and approached the door head on. I knocked three times. A call came and the noise died down.
“Yeah?! Whatchu want?” Footsteps approached the door. I racked the wooden pump, then threw my body-weight into a solid kick. The kick splintered the thin door and broke the man's face on the other side.
“Anybody home?” I growled as I stepped inside. The remaining three men gawked for a moment, then shuffled for their side-arms. I swiveled in place and caught a bead on the first man. I tapped the trigger, scattering shot across his body; causing him to writhe up and shake once, then fall to the ground. I stepped in further as the remaining two bandits found cover behind some barrels of feed and stacks of hay. The immense power of the scatter-gun gave me a psychological boost...I was drunk with power and I felt invincible. This helped considerably as I rounded the corner to the barrels. The young man there was still pulling back the hammer on his pistol. I taught him the meaning of preparedness as I sent a wad of steel BB's through his chest. The last man swung out from behind a haystack and fired frantically on my position. I didn't budge or flinch once as each slug sped past my body. At some moments, I could feel the wind breaking and cooling the sweat on my neck, or flicking stray locks of my hair off of my neck. The man finished the cylinder of his pistol, then threw the hunk of metal hysterically at me. It bounced off of my shoulder as I stepped painlessly towards him and shot his legs out from under him; despite his pleas to have mercy. Two dead and two severely injured...plus the two from the stable. Seemed to me that Max and his Marauders were all but finished. As the adrenaline in my bloodstream began dying down again and my juggernaut mindset faded, I moved towards the rancher on the floor. He was bleeding rather badly, but they were fist wounds, not bullets.

“Are you alright, old man?”
The rancher spat and coughed, then nodded. “T-thank you, stranger! I owe you my life!”
“And your family's life. They're out behind the stables.”
“Bless you, stranger! Bless you!”
“Save it. I have some questions for you when we're done here.”
I told the man to make a break for the stables as soon as I moved out to the ranch house...but by now sneaking was through. The ringleader knew I was coming. He heard the shots and the screams. He knew something was amiss. No sooner had I considered this complication did I hear a voice from outside.

“Heyyyy straaanjah! I got a bone to pick witchoo!”
I moved to a window in the barn and took a gander outside. It was the leader...and he had the daughter in his arms with a long pistol aimed at her head. The mother was crying on the ground nearby. Two guards stood on either side of the man. One equipped with a long rifle and the other with a shorter one with a bayonet. They were obviously the leader's elite guard...they were much better equipped than the others.
“{expletive hax0rd by Cspace}. They found them.” I muttered to myself. The father began to panic.
“What?! My family?! They have my family?!”
The voice called, “Unless you come out right now, stranger, I'm gonna waste this pretty little family right here!” Realization set in within the mother and she couldn't take it any more. She threw herself up at the leader, clawing at him and trying to pull the little girl from his clutches. The leader grunted and swung his pistol, striking her across the face with the butt of it. He then aimed down at the helpless woman and fired once.
“That's one down, stranger! Don't tempt me to take this little girl's life! She's not even growed up yet! Heheheh...”
The rancher had it. He bolted through the empty door-way and threw up his arms as if he had planned to charge the long and open gap to pummel the bandits. The two bodyguards raised their rifles and shot the man repeatedly, flensing his flesh from his body with copious amounts of bullets. The leader turned and pistol-whipped both of his compatriots. “Idiots! Did I say fire? You shot the wrong guy!” Molly sobbed and squirmed from the leader's hands as he beat his lackeys. The little girl ran to her father's body and sobbed. The leader turned back to look at the barn with me inside.

“Well there you have it, stranger! This is MY property! I RULE this place! It's all MINE! Me! My name is Robert Brown! And I'm not afraid of anything!”
As the ringleader revealed his identity, I stepped from the barn and fanned the pump on my shotgun, expelling three more shells on the bandits' position. By no means was my shooting accurate, but the hail of shot crippled his cohorts and left Robert dazed and leaping with pain. The shot was far from lethal...small shells and long distances made for a lousy kill effect. I dropped my shotgun and drew both of my pistols and cocked back the hammers with fervor. I placed the tips of my sights on each of the bodyguards and pulled both of the triggers. Both men jumped in their boots, then lurched forward; hands tucked over their bellies. I re-cocked the hammers and pulled both arms inward, centering on Robert the leader now.
“You should be, Mister Brown. You damn well should be.”
“Wh-...who in the hell are you, anyway?” He gasped out, arms wrapped around his stomach and legs, blood trickling from all over.
“You can call me...Stranger.”
“You think this is a {expletive ninja'd by Cspace}in' joke?! I'll kill you, {expletive hax0rd by Cspace}!” The bandit raised his large pistol, poised for killing position. I had the upper hand...guns already drawn on his chest. I fired, alternating my trigger-pulls and re-cocking. I fired a total of four times, filling Robert's lungs with lead slugs. I grinned as he fell to his knees, then collapsed. That was the end of Robert Brown, but he couldn't have been more than a lieutenant of Max's Marauders. As I reloaded my revolvers and moved towards Molly, I could hear a gurgling retort from the leader.
“Max'll 'ave yer hide, Stranger! 'Ee's in Dry Ditch, if'n ya dare!...nnfff.”
Now there was the problem with Molly...what could I possibly say to a little girl who just lost both of her parents right before her eyes.
“Molly...do you...have any family elsewhere?”
“Oh, Stranger!” She sobbed, “Y-you've gotta take me with ya to Dry Ditch! I've got an auntie there! I...I can't stay here no more.”
I snagged the long-rifle and spare ammunition from the bandits, gathered some food from the stores, then took Molly by the hand. We made the trek to Dry Ditch in a few minutes flat. After a while, Molly's tears faded with the walk and a little food to eat. As we approached Dry Ditch, I could see that the entire town was destroyed...run-down buildings and bodies littered the streets...but I could still hear screams. There were still people living in some parts. I picked up a small carton of cigarettes from a body near the entrance to the small town and picked the last cigarette from the box. This town was about to get a lot more...Stranger.

Darkstorm Characters: Scaffard Crimsonflame , Zikora Yooki
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#2 User is offline   Jake Icon

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Posted 05 November 2009 - 10:00 PM

I'm far from a literary critic, but It's an entertaining read. It's like "What if the Terminator was stuck in Borderlands"
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#3 User is offline   Ruckus Fox Icon

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Posted 12 November 2009 - 05:33 AM

In hindsight...I'm not entirely sure I was satisfied with my work on this one. It could have used some more polishing...some more buffing. My usual crowd is restless...they'd prefer more adult things, and aren't interested in anything that disregards furries in general. At the moment, it's looking unlikely that I'll be continuing on this any time soon.

Darkstorm Characters: Scaffard Crimsonflame , Zikora Yooki
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