Status: Active
Operation: Arctic Fortress
"I remember that day on the battlefield. The stale snow crunched beneath my feet, and I shivered with the trees blowing softly in the wind as I looked beyond the hill that was my shelter where we had hidden for so long. There was a fight, a war happening between two sides. It looked like they were just fighting over whatever supplies and necessities were left in the empty institution, but I later learned it was much more than that.
Before my father died he had told me all about these wars, where the soldiers were civilians rather than trained mercenaries, women and children as well as men fighting amongst themselves, continuously dying as the numbers kept getting smaller. The world’s supplies were continuing to get scarce, and shortly after I was born into this doomed world, it got to the point where everyone and their neighbor was killing eachother just to stay alive. It’s been at least twenty years since then; now there are only an estimated 100 people left on Earth. It seems like at least half of them had come here, to this run down turf in former Alaska.
After all, my father and I did. We heard about it after two straight weeks of going hungry, a somewhat safe haven that could be found at an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town. It was highly unlikely there’d be anything left for us by the time we got there, but it was the only hope that we had. We were about half right, the forsaken building had turned into a war zone. Not all bad, my father knew a thing or two about when the right times were to infiltrate the building to scavenge for whatever ammo, food, or miscellaneous supplies that could come of use to us. We buried the truck we came in under several inches of snow, storing our goods inside of it at a safe distance away from the ruins, making our shelter underground not far from it.
We survived for a good year that way, though I’ll never know how. He always left at night, and urged me to stay behind. He insisted I had to guard the shelter and our supplies, though I knew he was afraid I would be hurt or injured, caught in the crossfire of the civil war being held a half mine away. It stung my ego to know he thought me so fragile especially after teaching me enough about firearms to lead a small army. Perhaps he was preparing me for the inevitable- his impending death –and didn’t want me to have to fight until I the day I would absolutely have to.
That day did eventually come, he had a heart attack shortly after what would be his last run to bring the next week’s food. Now without my him, I wasn’t able to just bunker down and ‘hold down the base”. I had to do it myself.
The adrenaline that rushed through my veins as I made my way to the dilapidated hospital that first night, canceling out most of my fear of getting shot. Secretly, I had been waiting to fight. Waiting to feel the gun firing in my hand, waiting to smell the blood of my enemies so triumphantly shed. I guess cabin fever will do that to you.
As I approached and was able to spectate the situation at the hospital. I gathered that each side of the continuing battle was specified by their color. There was the ‘red’ side and the ‘blu’ side, though neither mattered since I wasn’t on either but my own. If it moved and wasn’t me, I was going to shoot. I saw humans, but I saw -and showed- no humanity.
Quickly to the inner thresholds of the hospital through one of the back entrances I ran, gunning down someone with a sniper rifle on my way in.
But my final victory was not to be reached, I was hit in the back of the head with something extremely hard, and at an alarming speed… a bat, perhaps? I didn’t even have time to see what hit me, let alone defend myself.
I blacked out.
When I awoke, I met the start of a new beginning at the hands of a few unlikely allies.
xXx
It's a Team Fortress 2 fanfiction. Yes, I'm probably the only TF2 fan posting stories on mibba, I know, but hey, maybe there's some of you out there I dunno. Comment if you like please though, that'd be great. I love being motivated.
Before my father died he had told me all about these wars, where the soldiers were civilians rather than trained mercenaries, women and children as well as men fighting amongst themselves, continuously dying as the numbers kept getting smaller. The world’s supplies were continuing to get scarce, and shortly after I was born into this doomed world, it got to the point where everyone and their neighbor was killing eachother just to stay alive. It’s been at least twenty years since then; now there are only an estimated 100 people left on Earth. It seems like at least half of them had come here, to this run down turf in former Alaska.
After all, my father and I did. We heard about it after two straight weeks of going hungry, a somewhat safe haven that could be found at an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town. It was highly unlikely there’d be anything left for us by the time we got there, but it was the only hope that we had. We were about half right, the forsaken building had turned into a war zone. Not all bad, my father knew a thing or two about when the right times were to infiltrate the building to scavenge for whatever ammo, food, or miscellaneous supplies that could come of use to us. We buried the truck we came in under several inches of snow, storing our goods inside of it at a safe distance away from the ruins, making our shelter underground not far from it.
We survived for a good year that way, though I’ll never know how. He always left at night, and urged me to stay behind. He insisted I had to guard the shelter and our supplies, though I knew he was afraid I would be hurt or injured, caught in the crossfire of the civil war being held a half mine away. It stung my ego to know he thought me so fragile especially after teaching me enough about firearms to lead a small army. Perhaps he was preparing me for the inevitable- his impending death –and didn’t want me to have to fight until I the day I would absolutely have to.
That day did eventually come, he had a heart attack shortly after what would be his last run to bring the next week’s food. Now without my him, I wasn’t able to just bunker down and ‘hold down the base”. I had to do it myself.
The adrenaline that rushed through my veins as I made my way to the dilapidated hospital that first night, canceling out most of my fear of getting shot. Secretly, I had been waiting to fight. Waiting to feel the gun firing in my hand, waiting to smell the blood of my enemies so triumphantly shed. I guess cabin fever will do that to you.
As I approached and was able to spectate the situation at the hospital. I gathered that each side of the continuing battle was specified by their color. There was the ‘red’ side and the ‘blu’ side, though neither mattered since I wasn’t on either but my own. If it moved and wasn’t me, I was going to shoot. I saw humans, but I saw -and showed- no humanity.
Quickly to the inner thresholds of the hospital through one of the back entrances I ran, gunning down someone with a sniper rifle on my way in.
But my final victory was not to be reached, I was hit in the back of the head with something extremely hard, and at an alarming speed… a bat, perhaps? I didn’t even have time to see what hit me, let alone defend myself.
I blacked out.
When I awoke, I met the start of a new beginning at the hands of a few unlikely allies.
xXx
It's a Team Fortress 2 fanfiction. Yes, I'm probably the only TF2 fan posting stories on mibba, I know, but hey, maybe there's some of you out there I dunno. Comment if you like please though, that'd be great. I love being motivated.