Backstory: Brandon Orions lived in Lynchburg Virginia and grew up in a small outskirts house. He had very little to do in his little hometown, it simply had a gun range and a bowling ally that had been out of business for several years. This left the gun range. During school he was quiet but out of school he was a outgoing adventurous kid. At age 6 he got his first gun, the gun that sparked his life forever. The simple Red Rider BB gun that his father gave him would pave the way to a life in the marksman field. At age 10 he was already shooting a .30-06 competitively for his school. Over time the schools rank doubled in rank for sharpshooting because of Brandon. One day after he just got finished at the range a man pulled him aside, he was a recruiter for the national marksman team. Brandon of course accepted and aced the tryouts and was soon on his way to glory. For his sixteenth birthday he was told that he was accepted into the national gold championship for the art of sharpshooting. The championship was to be held in a place called Chernarus. Within the next week Brandon was on a plane headed for Chernarus. The plane touched down and the smell of crisp Russian air filled his lungs as he stepped off the plane onto the runway. Within a few hours they had rented a car and gotten checked in at the hotel they were assigned. The tournament was in a few days so Brandon decided to get some rest since the jet lag was taking its tole on him and his parents.-----
It was late at night when Brandon heard it first. A faint scream in the distance, a soft moan of a helpless child. Was it in Brandon's dream? Was it the leaky faucet again? Brandon ignored it and went back to sleep. Just before he drifted back into his own dreamland an explosion that shook the very foundations of his hotel rattled him awake, heart racing. He gasped for air as he had a slight asthma problem and turned on his bedside lamp. He fought for consciousness as he slipped out of bed and grabbed his gun kit assembling his gun as fast as he could in fear of the worst. Was it terrorist? Thugs? Rioters? He did not care, he was ready. Down the stairs came the sudden sharp sound of breaking glass. Brandon slowly opened his door and crept down the stairs of the small hotel building they were in. As he reached the bottom floor he saw that the door to his room was wide open and the glass sliding door to the back part of the complex had been smashed from the inside. He drew back the bolt on his gun and loaded a single bullet into it as he slowly approached the sliding door. His footsteps were carefully placed in order to not alert any intruder that may still be in the room. As he danced around the broken shards of glass that happen to have landed inside he heard a muffled gurgling noise coming from the back of the complex. He could not risk calling out to his parents so he approached the noise on his own. He slowly stepped through the broken door and triggered the motion light installed in the building. All of a sudden a blinding light pierced the night and Brandon's hands instinctively were thrown into his face to avoid the light. As his eyes adjusted his whole world went silent as he saw a small thin frame of a woman tearing into his father's lifeless body, broken and bloody on the ground. The woman hunched over Brandon's father reached her hands into his chest and pulled out bits of flesh and meat and shoved them into her mouth as quickly as she could. Brandon could not move, he could not call out for help even though the words were there, he could only watch in horror as this woman took chunk after chunk out of his father. He stumbled backwards stepping on a piece of the broken glass crunching it under his foot. The woman stiffened up and snapped her head in the direction of the noise. In his horror Brandon's mother's cold, dead eyes stared deep into his soul. He stumbled backwards once more and tripped over the doorway step up and fell backwards holding tightly to his weapon. The woman's contorted, blood covered body snapped to all fours and slowly crawled towards Brandon, still with a chunk of flesh hanging from her mouth. Brandon choked out a few words but the woman remained her steady pace at Brandon with nothing but hunger in her eyes. Brandon regained his balance and backed up into the corner of the hotel room keeping his eyes on his mother, tears streaming down his face. He tried pleading with her but to no avail, she grew closer and closer and finally pounced on her awaiting prey. Brandon grit his teeth together and closed his eyes. The sonic boom of the round as it came out of his gun was a sound that would never be unheard, the smell of the power from the residue of the round would tinge his nose forever, the flash of the gun in the darkness would haunt him every time he closed his eyes, and the sight of his mother and father's lifeless body, one eaten, one missing part of their head, would be something he would never forget.