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Guest Bourneco

The Wolf - Short-story.

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

Our story starts here. At an old, beaten down church sitting in the ruins of Chernogorsk...

arma2oa_2011-12-23_14-54-30-23.jpg

"What was I doing? Is this what I had been reduced to..?" Thought Cisilia to herself, standing over two survivors. They were tied and on their knee's. Her FNX sitting quietly in her hand. The barrel and slide pressed against the man's head. "Get up." She said, and they followed.. "Turn around.." She then ordered in her commanding tone. The two turned and got onto their knee's.. "P-Please.. don't.. we didn't mean it.." They uttered out. Their faces battered and bruised, cut and broken. Their clothes stained with blood, dirtied and unkempt. Cisilia slowly rose the firearm to his head.. "I'm sorry." She uttered out, as she pulled the firearm's trigger back. The slide jumped back, causing her hand to recoil backwards. Out of the barrel came flying a fourty-five, flying at approximately 830 feet-per-second. It slammed into the back of the man's head, causing a stomach-churning crunch atop the gunshot. The man's lower forehead and eyes had been removed by the exit wound, the bullet having mushroomed out due to his skull. She slowly turned the gun to the other, her ears ringing slowly with a low hum. She pulled the trigger again.. killing the second man. The wind seemed to whisper, "The wolf is the strength of the pack, and the pack is the strength of the wolf." This day, Cisilia assumed the roll of the Wolf. A hunter. A killer. Born in a civilized world, it was hard to assimilate to the law of the jungle. She had let both of the only people who gave a single care for her down; and now? Now, she /was/ the law. Enforcing it to the strictest manner.

Five hours earlier.

Cisilia had been sitting in the church. Staring up at the cross on the old, dirty and battered stained-class windows of the old cathedral. Seeming to beg for forgiveness for those she had let down. In her hand was an FNX .45, sitting draped over her knee. The church itself smelled like musk and blood. Sitting on the alter were two body-bags. A dead priest lay ontop of the cross. No doubt, the work of bandits or.. perhaps even marauders. She quietly and solemnly waited. For something - a word. A sign of forgiveness. Her eyes slowly drifted to the firearm in her hand, sighing out loudly. She heard footsteps behind her.. perhaps, this was the group who had committed such a brutal act. Cisilia slid down off of the bench, down below it. Sliding over along the bottom. Aiming the firearm along the isle. The two survivors walked along. "You're fucked up, man.." one of them said. Speaking to each other. Cisilia slowly pressed in the mag-release on the firearm, checking her ammunition. Only four rounds. She slowly slid out of the bench, and stood. "Oh, look at this bitch." One of them laughed, raising his 627 Ruger towards her. "We'll have a lot of fun with you." She slowly raised her hands, her firearm held in her right. She slowly let the firearm down onto her finger, before launching it forwards. The firearm impacted the man holding the 627 in the nose, causing a gentle 'crack' to be heard, as it stunned him. She launched her foot forwards, causing him to be sent backwards into the benches. She then rushed forwards, as the other man began preparing his firearm. She tackled him into the benches, but not without injury. The gun went off, causing a bullet to impact her in the shoulder. She slammed her fist into his stomach, causing the gun to drop out of his hand. Bringing her elbow down onto his face afterwards, this knocked him out. She quickly stood, holding her shoulder, staring at the man in the benches with a cold look. She brought her foot down, twice, into his face. Causing his nose to be broken, and one of his eyes to swell, as well as loose consciousness. She took a pair of zipties from one of them, placing them on the wall on their knees. She also took some bandages and a small medical kit from the man. Bandaging and removing the bullet from her wound. You know what happens next...

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Arcarius    25

I like this, can't wait for more need some now

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

Chapter Two: The Pack.

This paragraph of the story occurs on a dirt trail, not far from Rog castle...

51a0dd95c9dcf33889.jpg

Wolf sat, quietly, over her sister. Staring down at her. She had suffered a gunshot wound to the stomach. Wolf was too.. clouded, to cry. Placing her hands on the wound, she shook her head. "No, no. You're not getting off this train that easy.." She said, beginning to remove a bandage from her backpack. The woman below her was pale, a small blood-pool forming under her. Earlier, a small group of bandits had engaged them. They escaped, but she was injured. A five-point-five-six to the stomach. Wolf pressed the bandage against her wound, holding it down. "C'mon.. stay with me.." Wolf whimpered out as she continued working. Scrambling to remove the medical kit from her backpack. She continued working, but her mind slowly slid into the darkness. Flashbacks to the past...

This paragraph of the story occurs in an office building on the outskirts of Elektro. Land_A_Office02.jpg

Two months earlier.

Cisilia sat, quietly in a chair in the office building. Sitting on the desk infront of her was her FNX, donning her form was now a uniform taken off of a KSK operator. Covering her face was a shemagh. Sitting against the desk was an old, rusty AR-15. Cisilia sighed, looking at the world outside. Footsteps filled the hallway. She sighed out loudly.. "God.. damnit. This again.." She murmured out, slowly raising her FNX towards the doorway. In the doorway stood a woman. She was wearing a trenchcoat and a MOLLE set. In her hand was a Python, coated in a nickel sheen, the barrel was around eight inches. She had dark black hair, and green eyes. Wolf slowly pulled the hammer on the weapon back, staring at her. "Who are you..?" She sighed, looking at the gun. "Hawk..." She thought the gun petty, a useless gesture under her gaze. Wolf was intrigued by this. Slowly lowering the weapon, before setting it back onto the desk. "Wolf." She said. "I think you and I are going to be good friends...." Wolf slowly slid out of the chair, picking up her rifle and pistol. Pulling her rifle over her shoulder, and holstering her FNX on her hip. Nodding to Hawk.. "You comin'?" Hawk seemed.. indifferent, but nodded none-the-less. Wolf began speaking to Hawk. "So, what's your story.." Wolf said in an oddly calm tone. Sighing, as she began rustling through a desk just down the hall. Pulling the drawers out. "Let's see. I'm from Germany, a small cabin in the Black Forest. I'm a hunter by trade. I left Germany for Chernarus for business reasons..." Hawk responded in a decidedly held-back tone. She wasn't telling the whole story, but Wolf didn't care at this point. "Say, you up for following me about, or are we going to go our seperate ways?" Wolf laughed a bit after saying this.. "What am I saying, you're probably gonna level that Python against my head as soon as we get into the forest. Am I right?" Hawk shook her head and gave off a gentle chuckle.. "If I wanted to kill you or mug you. I would've done it while you were sitting in that chair..." Wolf gave off a slight scoff. "Then I think you are.." Hawk gave a soft, almost invisible smile.. "So be it."

!TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO SEE IF HAWK SURVIVES OR DIES!

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Arcarius    25

I highly enjoy this keep it up.

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

Chapter Four - The Pack in Shambles.

Please listen to this while you read: http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=tE8aP6jALyo#Tool_-_Jambi

This paragraph of the story takes place on a small, remote hill on the north-east border of Chernarus, near one of the very, very few still-standing blockades set up by the Centres for Disease Control, and now being run by renegade commando's and researchers. 2021012946.jpg

Wolf sat, quiet and contemplative. Her hands stained with the blood of her comrade. Staring down at the camp, her eyes wide open. Her senses tingling with rage; uncontrollable. Sitting behind her was a small backpack, full of medical equipment and other useless goods, a small, wooden cross sat just behind that. Cradled in her arms was an AR-10, the magazine sitting infront of her. She decided upon a very important thing that day; to never get connected to another living being, for fear of being hurt. Emotionally, physically or even mentally. Wolf was at her last limb as her mind began slowly drifting off into thought...

Four hours ago.

This paragraph of the story takes place on a dirt trail in a small ditch, not far from Rog. tumblr_mnipcfdDuf1rjzhp2o1_500-8300.jpg?q=65&sharp=15&vib=10&fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=521&h=521

Wolf sat back as Hawk's final breath was drawn. Life fled from her eyes as Wolf slowly leant forwards. Pressing two fingers against both of her eyelids, closing her eyes. She murmured in Latin, the only language she had successfully learned; other than English. "Requiescat in pace, soror." She let slip from her lips as she slowly leant back. "..What am I going to do now.." She said as the blood-pool beneath Hawk stopped growing. Her heart had stopped, blood no longer pumping through her body. She grew pale within moments of her death. There was no saving her. Wolf slowly slid her FNX from her holster - Hawk was one of the very, very few who's body had not produced the antibodies to combat the infection. She slowly leveled the firearm with her temple.. "I'm sorry, partner." She murmured, as she slowly pulled the trigger on the firearm. Releasing a fourty-five ACP into her head. Ripping through her brain-matter, the cavitation destroying the brain-stem and amygdala; making her unable to turn. Wolf let the gun drop to the ground after firing this round. Caving in under the weight of the action she had just taken, she leant over Hawk's body. Wrapping her arms around her lifeless corpse. Beginning to sob, uncontrollably. The truth was that Hawk was right- the world couldn't continue, tamed or not. People would be too afraid of each other. Everyone being a threat. From this day forwards, Wolf vowed to herself to be the equalizer of the forest. A hunter of those who tip the scales towards chaos, to keep the equilibrium of good and evil in at least some form of stability.

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

This paragraph of the story takes place on the same small, remote hill on the north-east border of Chernarus, near one of the very, very few still-standing blockades set up by the Centres for Disease Control, and now being run by renegade commando's and researchers. 2021012946.jpg

Wolf slowly slid to her feet after her moment of recollection. Her mind now.. cold; the last person on this god forsaken fucking place known as Earth who knew a single goddamn thing about was dead. She leant down, picking up the magazine to the AR-10 and sliding into the rifle. Chambering a round, she then took the FNX from the ground, a small bit of blood-spatter coating the front part of the slide and frame. The tan coating disrupted by blood. Her equipment was messy and unclean, her attitude had changed completely. No longer was she 'playful' or.. for that matter, emotional. Every thought was cold. Except for a very select few, about a very select few people, Hawk, Daniel, and Lila - her daughter, her husband, and her partner. Wolf slowly began moving down, off of the hill. Heading along the road...

Two hours later.

This paragraph takes place at Devil's Castle; not yet destroyed, please note.

castlelg.jpg

Wolf slowly walked up the tower. The smell of a corpse drew her closer to the top floor. Her rifle aimed upwards. A shrill scream emitted from the roof, gurgles coming after it. She quickened up her pace, moving up the stairs. AR-10 brought to bear - she stopped. Infront of her, one of the very few Doragonzu members lay on the ground, two zombies knealt over him. His stomach torn open, his entrails slowly dangling from the mouthes of the infected. Corpses sat around. Wolf brought her rifle to bear, firing three rounds. First, the two infected... than the Doragonzu. Assuring he wouldn't turn. However, one of the infected survived, being slammed to the side by the gunshot. It slowly stood, giving off a deep snarl and a loud, angry scream of pure, feral rage. Running towards her. Quickly, Wolf reacted, sending her rifle to the ground to lessen her weight, she jumped to the side. The infected was unable to stop itself, slamming into the stone and sending it toppling over the tower. A shrill screech followed as it fell, before a loud, bone-curdling and stomach-churning CRUNCH was heard. Wolf slowly got back to her feet, looking over the edge. "Fffucking christ, I'd hate to be the guy who has to clean that mess up.." She joked, slowly picking up her firearm, she walked over to the corpse. Sitting beside it was a 1940's replication of the traditional Katana, and on the belt of the Doragonzu member was a Tanto and Wakizashi. She knealt down, taking all of the blades. Finding places for them on her own equipment. "..You don't need these now." She said, drooping his eyes closed with two fingers. Suddenly, a loud whistle came through the air as a devastating explosion rocked the castle. An F-10 flying right over. Wolf was dazed by this sudden wave, being slammed into the tower's top. Slowly, the tower began to waver. Wolf quickly got to her feet, sprinting down the stairs as fast as she fucking could. The tower began to collapse above her, slabs of stone slamming into the ground behind her. Suddenly, a slab slammed into her ankle, causing her to topple down the stone stairs... knocking her out, cold...

!!!TUNE IN NEXT TIME TO SEE IF OUR HEROINE WILL SURVIVE THIS DARING ENCOUNTER WITH FATE!!!

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SatansNightOut    105

Great use of descriptions, man.

It's rare, but when I find a story thread that makes me want to pick up some of my projects, I get intrigued.

Keep up the great storytelling and wordsmithing. :)

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

This paragraph takes place at an old nature-park, just off the Chernarus border to the West. 7r1E3UL.jpg?1

Sitting on the grill, a loud sizzling noise emitting from them, were several sausages, freshly looted from the supermarket. Wrapped around them was some freshly harvested bacon. The smell of the meat, smokey and juicy rose up through the air. Filling their small quarter of the forest with the wonderful smell.. Wolf was asleep, stooped up on a log. Acrost from her sat a young man. He gave off a low grumble, moving the sausage along the fire with some rusty tongs. Wolf was oddly.. quiet. Creepily so. Her eyes didn't flutter. Her face didn't move. Her body was still.....

12 hours ago.

This paragraph takes place at Devil's castle, now destroyed. q8wRYK1.jpg?1

Wolf sat under the wreckage of the tower. Her leg now caught under it, part of her lower back as well. She laid, unconcious. Her body unmoving. A young, male survivor slowly crept into the castle. Moving into the area, he quietly moved over to Wolf. Checking her pulse. It was weak; but she was still alive. He groaned as he slowly pressed his hands against the stone slab that was above her. Heaving upwards. He sighed, shaking his head. He almost walked off, before realizing something.. quickly, he took a car-jack from his backpack. Recently looted from an engineering shop in Cherno. He forced the car-jack under the stone, jacking the handle up and down, causing it to rise. This gave him the leverage he needed, heaving upwards, the stone toppling off of Cisilia. He did this for the rest, before dragging her off to safety. Treating her for a broken leg and lacerations to her lower back, ankle and legs. This young survivor's name was David Sanderson, otherwise known as Fafnir..

[video=youtube]

!!!NOW THAT OUR HEROINE IS SAFE, WILL SHE SURVIVE HER WOUNDS, OR WILL SHE SUCCUMB!!!

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

(Please note, this backstory is not official. I need to work out the kinks and the likes, as well as do further research about the Ghost operatives. I was given this idea by a friend of mine.)

This file was taken from a 1990's styled computer terminal at Norfolk Navy base.

Accessing files…

Accessing files…

Accessing files…

This is the file of PO1. Cisilia Longbird.

Are you sure you wish to open this file…?

Y/n

Y.

7ezhpjr.jpg?1

Operative Longbird’s service was terminated on Oct 26th 2000, due to United Nations rulings of the usage of ‘GHOST’ agents as unconstitutional and a war-crime.

Operative was re-initiated on June 9th 2012 due to extreme circumstances.

OPENING FILE…

OPENING FILE...

File opened.

This file is out of date by approximately .

Operative Cisilia Longbird was born on Jul 15th 1978, in Fairfax, Virginia. Under the name Sarah Palmer to a family of prominent, but retired members of the different branches of the Navy, Army, Marines and even some in the private-sector. Her parents were killed in a car-accident on Sept 21st, 1994, causing Sarah to be shipped to an uncle, who had ties to the United States government, including the central intelligence agency. Her uncle, a retired central intelligence agency spokesperson would often speak about her to his fellow spooks. This started Cisilia’s transition into the ‘GHOST’ program. On one of the many occasions, her uncle was offered a deal. Cisilia, a relatively strong woman for her age, was sent to Norfolk. Operative was inducted into the GHOST program on April 26th, 1996. She began training at Norfolk, to kill. Cisilia was deployed once, in the 1990’s during operation Desert Storm. She was sent in for intelligence, but during her mission, the ghost’s were ruled unconstitutional, and she was removed from the AO, given a fake name and enough money to make a new life.

Cisilia, still relatively young moved to New York, here, she met a man named ‘Daniel Anvil’. Within two years, the two were married. Daniel Anvil was, at this time, a beat-cop for the NYPD. Cisilia had one child, Lila Anvil. Lila was an odd child, more interested in anatomy, physics and chemistry than most menial subjects in schools. The most recent test of her Intelligence Quotient revealed a 193 result. Cisilia lived happily with Daniel and Lila until Daniel ended up in an officer-involved shooting; killing a young African-american male, named . This caused Cisilia to move to Texas. And divorce her husband. Here, she began re-sharpening herself, just in case, she began Re-taking firearms classes, self-defense classes and the likes. Cisilia now owned a concealed carry weapons permit in the state of Texas, and had a home in Dallas. Daniel had, at this point, joined a Private Military Company known as Black Arrow. His team was deployed to Chernarus in the early outbreak to escort a Doctor, named into for blood and tissue samples of the infected. His squad was killed, and he was the only survivor.

Cisilia heard wind of this, but didn’t necessarily care. Living happily in Texas until that phone call she dreaded came… she was being deployed again. She took Lila, told her it was ‘To find her father’, and went to Chernarus. Her mission details were simple: find out what was happening in Chernarus. Her cover was that she was going to search for her husband. Simple enough. We lost contact with the operative on March 26th 2012…

TERMINAL CORRUPTED…

TERMINAL CORRUPTED….

UNABLE TO VIEW FILE…

TERMINAL SHUTTING DOWN…

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Guest Bourneco   
Guest Bourneco

This takes place at a large mansion in the western side of Chernarus.

yakovenko-mansion-on-kamenny-island.jpg

This section of the post includes some very, very minor NSFW content.

Wolf panted quietly, her breath condensing in the cold, winters air of the small bedroom of the Mansion. She slowly pulled the dusty covers of the large, king-sized bed over her warm, nude form. Beside her, laid an asleep David. She lowly sighed, letting her head softly droop, her hair let down, the glistening golden locks gently falling onto David's shoulder, her head on his chest. A hand softly slipping atop his bare pectorals, she slowly began to drift off, as his arm gently slipped around her. Her mind took her to places she had long-since forgotten.... places, she forgot for a reason. It was so vivid...

This paragraph of the story occurs in a long-since forgotten piece of Wolf's past, in a well-kept and expensive NYC apartment... 23_Park_Avenue_Robb_House_2.jpg

One and a half years ago...

Cisilia quietly laid beside her husband, a bottle of whiskey sat on his night-stand. She slowly slid up, walking quietly over to the closet. Slipping into an emerald-green cotton bathrobe, she slowly slipped out into the living room. Sitting in a chair she had pulled up to the window, she closed her eyes and leant her head back, her hair softly laying on the chair's fabric-backing, like a cascading waterfall of golden, well-kept hair. The noises of the city flooded her ear-drums- the city that never sleeps, truly, never sleeps. She let it flood her, drowning out the silence of her 'happy' family. In the next room, a noise interrupted her. She got up, entering Lila's room. She sighed, looking at Lila, who was sitting at her desk. Her head laid onto it, a new 'trinket' sitting infront of her, as well as a small toolkit. Cisilia softly walked inside, removing Lila's goggles and toolbelt, gently lifting her up and sliding her into her bed, just a few feet away. Gently pressing a bit of Lila's hair behind her ear, she planted a gentle, motherly kiss on her temple. Sliding out of the room, she softly closed the door, and walked into the kitchen. She removed a coffee-pot from the coffee-maker, which had some warm coffee left inside it. She poured herself a luke-warm cup of black, and slid back into her seat. Gently rubbing her forehead, she set the cup on the windowsill after taking a soft sip. Slowly, she picked up the cup, taking a soft, slow sip as she let her head back again. Listening to the city, as she slowly slid the coffee along the walls of her mouth, letting the bitter taste slowly filter into her tastebuds...

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