My name is Stephan Alexander Allen. I was A soldier, trained to fight and die for a country of freedom. I thought I knew what I signed up for, and I know for a fact that being dragged to the most absurd and destructive universe ever made was not in the fine print.
What am I talking about you ask? Oh just the fact that being shot in the leg no long gets you medivacted back to base for a little RnR and maybe a medal, NOPE! Apparently that now translates into being dragged through an enterdimensional portal in a blink of an eye into a blacked out room... which is now were I currently lay.
I uttered a gutteral groan of pain and annoyance as I sat my self up to a siting position, A shock of pain jolted my entire body as I tried and failed to get to my feet. Breathing through the agony that was the reminder that I have been shot I looked down at my leg in both annoyance and curiosity. my ACU's were digital brown, and currently caked in wet brown mud from the middle east, except for the glaring hole riped open on my right thiegh. The lighting was beyond terrible in the dark and cold room, in light of this fact I pulled of my torch and clicked the button to illuminate my current predicament.
Blood was the first thing my eyes credited to my brain in the spew of information i could now see, it was crimson and soaking my pant leg. Grimacing at the sight of my own body injured, my training kicked in to high gear. My left hand which was free at the moment began its mission to feel out the IFAK that was attached to my backpack, lucky for me i always kept it on my left side low mole webbing. With my left hands confirmation that it has made contact with what was required i quickly pulled the kit off my pack and layed it out between my legs.
Now with the tools i need to survive this injury in hand a spark of knowledge slapped my mind, I was right hand dominate.. not left. "This is not my day." I whispered to no one as i swopped my torch from righty to lefty, I then opened the kit and actually examined my injury with more scrutiny. The wound was about the size of my thumb in diameter, and a steady amount of blood was seeping from it. "Okay step one stop the bleeding." I muttered to my self remembering the basic steps to treating a bullet wound. Following my statement I grabbed a small wad of gauze and pressed on the wound, a pained hum escaped my throat as my nerves system reminded me that oh wait that hurts.
Grimacing with the applied effort of not dieing, I then pushed the wad into the wound sealing it. "Fuck" escaped my lips as a fresh wave of pain shot up my leg and into my brain, clenching my teeth I quickly added a second layer of gauze to help stop the flow. Then the next step was to pull out an ACE bandage and tie it around the gauze patch to keep it place and keep a third layer of protection from the elements. With a great amount of effort, and swearing I grabbed, opened, and wrapped the bandage around my leg. I stoped to put my torch in my mouth to free up lefty so i could tie a proper knot in the bandage cloth strips, with a painful amount of quickness I tied it tight with the knot pressing against the now covered wound.
Looking at my handy work i decided to move on to the next problem, pain management. Poping my torch out my mouth back into my trusty lefty, I began to rummage through the kit for anything that can help me not collapse in pain. I was in luck it seemed, as i pulled out a morphine injector with four inserts. I slowly took one of the inserts and gently placed it into the injector, poping of the cap I inserted the needle right above the wound. With a press of the insert the morphine quickly drained into my system, a cooling sensation followed and my sense sharpened. Closing the IFAK and replacing it on my bag, I took the tentative measure of pushing my self up on a near by wall. With a huf i moved to a standing position, favoring my patched up leg I reattached my torch to my rifles rail system.
I examined my weapon for damage, the SCAR H had some scratches and dust covering it. Checking the magazine I had twenty rounds of Seven point six two SLAP rounds loaded with one in the chamber, clicking the mag back into place I check the safety to semi-auto. Bringing the weapon up to my right shoulder aiming it at the broken down door, I proceeded to limp up to right side pressing my shoulder against the concrete wall. Peering out the door frame my eyes registered that this room was connected to a hallway that led to the right only, the left had collapsed into ruble from something.
" I guess I go right then." I joked to my self, comforting my self at my apparent aloneness.
Swing my rifle around the frame I hobbled my way down the lengthy hallway, taking note of its constructed nature of concrete and metal struts. After what felt like hours I finally stumbled to a set of stairs, swinging my weapon up to light the way I slowly took them. After reaching the top, which was over four hundred steps mind you, I found my self leaning against the door frame of a sealed door.
"And green buttons does what?" I ask to no one as I eyed the simple control panel that was mounted into the concrete wall to the right of the sealed metal door. Pushing the glowing item in question rewarded me with the sound of a pressure lock releasing, and mechanical gears rumbling above my head. In short order the heavy seals that locked the door lifted and the whole sold piece of metal ascended into the ceiling.
I squinted my eyes to the point that my eye lashes became a cage of sorts, as bright light assaulted my retina and nearly blinded me. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I was met with a sight that was not sand and orange rock. Grey brick and black metal buildings the size of sky scrapers lined an eight lane paved street, the architecture was familiar yet completely foreign in its grand standing. Instantly my muscles tensed as I scanned past the door way, there were street lamps emphasis on were. The clear signs of war were displayed all around my sight, craters in the street, destroyed smoldering vehicles, destroyed lamps, and burnt bodies littered the ground.
"Were in the absolute nine hells am I?" I mumbled to my self as the smell hit my oil factory sense. The smell of death is not something that can be described no matter how much you have been around it, my nose wrinkled and my face grimaced. Most of the buildings were either damaged or out right in ruins, slowly I exited and scanned in all directions with my rifle. The coast was clear of who ever killed these people, Looking back were I extracted my self from the dark tunnel my eyes land on a sign that was above the entrance. 'Emergency shelter level two civilians only' it read, I raised my eyebrow at this in question. Writing it off as something else to worry about, I fished my compass out of my left front pocket and orientated it in the direction of north.
"Great.. did I land on a magnet?" I questioned to my self while i noticed the sun was not setting in the west, no the damn thing was setting in the east.. and there was two of them. "Todo we are not in Kansas anymore." I quoted wizard of oz in the realization I was not on earth, at least not the earth I knew. I needed a new way to determine were I was in this city, were ever this city was, and find some one alive to get answers out of. "At least they write in english, lets hope they speak it to" I quipped to my self in mock hope.
Peering through the optic on my rifle, a standard ACOG four times, to my east were the suns were setting. A street sign with clear white script was cocked at an odd angle, and to the right was some form machine that resembled a vending machine. Hobbling down the round checking windows and ally ways, I surveyed the damage around me seeing the flow of combat. Shell casings littered the street in almost comical fashion, they were the size of shotgun shells making we wonder if a heavy weapon swept the street with full containers of ammunition.
Finely arriving at the street corner I pressed my back against a crumbling wall and peered around the edge, the street to the north showed even more damage. The other two streets simply resembled the one I just hobbled down, leaning back from the corner I read the street sign. "Habitation block Alpha Zero one." I read with a raised eyebrow, my sight scanned the machine with bold lettering. ' navigation dispensary ' it read with such simplicity, hobbling with as much speed as I can muster I ducked into cover next to it.
The front was a solid grey metal with three buttons glowing on the right side, pressing the middle one rewarded me with an electric motor sound. Out of a now open slot came a rolled piece of parchment paper, grabbing it with my free hand I examined it with a look of 'Really?' written over my face. The paper was discolored from age and use and the metal end pieces showed signs of rust and lack of upkeep. With a flick of my thump and wrist this presumed map unfurled its self revealing A bare minimum topographical map of what I read was a.. 'Hive city, Lower worker habitation zone'.
"Hive city.. were have I heard that before?" I asked my self as I plowed through my memory of my more youthful days of nerdism. I blinked several times when the memory of those two words struck me, 'No.. no no no' I stated repeatedly in my mind as I tucked the scroll in a mole pouch that was open on my rigging. Panic inched its tendrills into my mind as I began to hobble down the Norther street following the destruction that laid in that direction, sticking to the side walk I kept my Rifle ready and moved cover to cover avoiding the open ground with fervent distrust. Eight blocks of destroyed city was the length that took me to get to the next intersection, were I found that the street corners were fortified with sand bags and tank traps along the road.
The position was abandoned of all life only burnt corpses and pools of old blood remained, empty casings and magazines i did not recognize littered the sandbag emplacements. Scanning the streets that lead to the east and west I found that the east was destroyed by a collapsed building while the west had a pile up of mangled vehicles, leave me with the Norther route as my only option. I planned my advance carefully choosing wich pieces of cover to use, when I spotted a mostly undamaged vehicle sitting in the center of intersection. Choosing it as my half way point I hobbled with as much haste as I could from cover to cover, after minutes of paranoid movement I arrived at my self imposed half way point.
I ran my memory in hopes of knowing what this armored tract vehicle was called, 'oh its a chimera' I thought as I recognize the troop transport. This how ever did not help with my internal panic as the realization of were I was becoming more of a reality, shacking my head of the thot I moved along the side of the damaged transport to its rear hatch. Peering around my eyes took stock of the open troop bay, to my surprise there was an unburnt body of a person in a drab brown uniform and green sage colored armor. This was an honest to god Guardsmen, down to even the laser-Rifle clenched in his severed right arm that laid next to him.
To my credit if it wasn't for my desensitization I would have already vacated my stomach of its breakfast, slowly I inched way into the troop bay and kneeled next to the pore sod. A red cross was embossed on his left shoulder pad which indicated he once was a combat medic, I checked his pulse with my left hand and felt a little thump. My breath caught as the weight of his life now rest in my hands, searching the the troop bay with my sight my eyes landed on what appeared to be there version of a IFAK. Snatching it from the wall my hands made quick work of its clasps, its contents was almost the exact same as my own except for some add-ons such as a fluid bag of some sort in a cooled pouch, surgical scissor, medical pincers, a staple gun, and some unknown liquid injectors.
I looked at the severed limb and back to the Guardsmen's stump of a right arm, it was severed from the middle bicep and luckily was not bleeding do to the tourniquet strapped above the grotesque wound. grabbing the bag from its refrigerated pouch and I recognized it as O- blood, moving with some amount of practice I set up a transfusion in his good arm. after taping the needle in place with medical tape, I began to examine the injectors more closely. There were three in total with slots for nine more that were now empty, they were colored green and made from metal with labels on each with bold lettering. All three were adrenaline shots for resuscitating an unconscious patient, looking at the Guardsmen a thought crossed my mind. "Alright buddy, you aren't going to like this but you are going to be the one giving me some answers." I informed the still form of the Guardsmen as I popped the top of the injector.
with little grand standing the injector was inserted into the Guardsmen's neck, "Come on soldier, one more mile to go!" I exclaimed as my thumb pressed the rounded back of the insert.