[Location: Classified] [Time: 2:00 PM]

The avalanche crashes down with a force that rivals the swiftness of divine intervention on a skateboard. One moment, the pristine slopes stand before me, and in the next, they are in chaotic motion. It would be almost comical if it weren't so horrifyingly lethal. Laughter becomes an unattainable luxury, for time is of the essence. Within seconds, the powdery white substance engulfs me, its icy embrace sending shivers through my entire being.

In a swift and brutal instant, the weight of the snow descends upon my back, robbing me of any semblance of control. I am flung into a tumultuous descent, tumbling helplessly, battered from all directions. Pain sears through my body, surpassing any torment I have ever experienced. It feels as though an unseen force is tossing me around like a mere ingredient in a merciless culinary concoction, where the pan is filled with sizzling vegetables and a single slab of unforgiving meat.

Yes, I am that slab of meat, incapable of emitting even the faintest of screams. There is no time for such expressions of terror. Besides, my mouth and nose are filled with the chilling grip of snow, stifling any sound that might escape my lips.

Time becomes an enigmatic paradox, simultaneously slowing to a crawl and racing with alarming speed. Then, abruptly, stillness prevails. The light vanishes, plunging me into an abyss of darkness. I can no longer discern if my eyes are open or shut. The snow might possess any hue, and I would remain oblivious to the difference.

I attempt to move, to regain control over my body, but it lies unresponsive. The avalanche... Human beings were never designed for such cataclysmic forces. I am certain that my bones are shattered, for pain permeates every fiber of my being. I am consumed by an overpowering coldness, one that eclipses any previous encounter with frigid temperatures. Sensations fade away, leaving behind only the numbing grip of the icy landscape. Perhaps beneath me, the snow assumes the appearance of a Halloween slushie from a convenience store.

In a cartoon, I would come to a comical halt, encased in a massive snowball, only to effortlessly shake it off and spring back to my feet. Alas, this is no child's animation.

I recall a film, wherein a demon adorned with a head full of pins uttered the ominous words, "Welcome to the worst nightmare of all... Reality." It appears that this nightmare has become my reality, as I find myself trapped in an inescapable web of snow, slowly succumbing to the embrace of death. Ha! Look at me, pondering over a movie quote as my life draws to a close.

Fortunately, my faculties remain intact. Though it may take time for the cold to fully ensnare my mind, my body succumbed to a slumber several minutes ago. Breathing becomes an arduous task, and I am unsure if I still draw breath at all.

A mere five minutes ago, I basked in the warm embrace of sunlight, unburdened by a care in the world. Now... I lie buried deep beneath the surface, entombed within this snowbound cage. Perhaps it is time to find solace and make peace with the divine, but at this moment, it is my anger that fuels my will to survive.

Why be consumed by rage when death looms near, you may ask? Allow me to share my clichéd tale before I depart this world.

I was raised within a mercenary camp, honing my skills under the tutelage of the most lethal

killers and depraved individuals this wretched planet has to offer. By the tender age of fifteen, I was thrust into the midst of a killing field, executing orders with ruthless efficiency. I killed on their command. I fornicated on their command. I did anything they desired until government agents apprehended me during my thirtieth mission.

You see, those abominable bastards taught me the art of survival. Thus, when I was caught, my sole instinct was to endure at any cost. Without a moment's hesitation, I divulged everything about my leaders and their bases, without considering the consequences. The government took swift action, eradicating all the bases within a week.

Now, the time has come for me to face judgment. Yet, those agents, reluctant to discard a skilled killer like a disposable pawn, offered me a contract spanning twenty long years.

For two decades, I became their obedient lapdog. In return, I was promised wealth, freedom, and a life free from worry. I accepted their offer, transforming into their prized spy. My talent and experience required minimal training, and soon enough, I found myself back in the field, executing the dirty deeds of another organization.

From my new trainers, those who molded me into a spy, I gleaned a valuable lesson.

To be a spy is to exist in solitary isolation, mastering the art of fearing nothing at all. When fear dissipates, focus remains, elevating one beyond the capabilities of ordinary individuals. It is a sacrifice that eludes the superficial glamour depicted in movies. Glamour is nothing but a façade veiling a multitude of agonies. In reality, to become something others cannot fathom, one must engage in actions others would never contemplate. Spies are only ordinary in the eyes of fellow spies.

There is no escape in this line of work. Entrances exist aplenty, but exits are nonexistent. Death, however, possesses the power to set one free. Faking one's demise allows for the acquisition of a new identity, enabling a life haunted by the constant specter of death.

Yet, I had hoped those bastards would uphold their end of the bargain, delivering the promised freedom and wealth upon the contract's fulfillment. Ha! Those fuckers allowed me to slip away without any resistance. I sensed treachery looming, but I chose to dismiss it, a testament to my own deterioration. Perhaps age has dulled my instincts.

And here I was, innocently pursuing my dream of scaling a mountain... Who could have fathomed that those fuckers would crash a fighter jet into the very mountain to rid themselves of my presence? Ha! I wonder if this is what they call karma, the inevitable reaping of what one sows. I have ended countless lives, committed heinous crimes, and betrayed others merely to survive... Now, it seems my karma has caught up with me.

It is amusing, really. Amidst the darkness, I can vividly recall every moment, every action, every regret that has marked my existence. Even in this impenetrable gloom, I bear witness to the tapestry of my life unraveling before me. They say that life flashes before one's eyes on the precipice of death... Ha! Enough talk... Fatigue overwhelms me... Drowsiness consumes me... The cold... I... I am... sor...ry... Lin... I...

A gentle breeze caresses my face, a sensation I had longed for in my darkest moments...

What?! I... I am alive! How is this possible? I distinctly remember the cold embrace of death, the icy grip that chilled me to the core. My body convulsed, and the hairs on my skin stood on end as I shivered uncontrollably. But now, as I stand here in the warmth of the sun, I can't shake off the lingering chill. It's an unsettling reminder of that dreadful icy prison I found myself in. The cold... I can still feel it, as if it has seeped into the very depths of my being.

But enough dwelling on the past. Right now, I need to focus on survival and evade those relentless agents who seek my demise. As long as I'm breathing, I can seek retribution. I may not understand how or why I am alive, but I must seize this opportunity and find a place to hide.

Looking around, I find myself in an unfamiliar location, surrounded by an expansive forest with lush greenery stretching as far as the eye can see. However, there is an eerie silence that permeates the air, devoid of the usual symphony of birdsong and the bustling of insects. My instincts warn me that this place is treacherous, that danger lurks within its depths. I cautiously survey my surroundings, searching for any signs of life or clues that might offer insight into my current predicament.

There is no trace of human presence, no indication of any living creature. Everything remains still and eerily quiet.

I must escape this place and gather more information. I need to unravel the mysteries of my inexplicable survival and understand how I find myself in this bewildering situation.

"Water Style: Water Dragon."

Startled, I quickly take cover behind a nearby tree, my heart pounding in my chest. The voice, distinctly feminine, echoes from the north. With caution, I begin to make my way in that direction, stealthily maneuvering between trees and using rocks as shields.

Then, with a thunderous boom, a colossal pillar of water erupts into the sky, catching me off guard. My eyes widen in astonishment and disbelief. A freaking dragon made of water!

This is not Earth. Where in the world am I? How did I end up in this unfathomable realm?

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AN: This is mainly focused on sex with ninja girls with little bit story and tension. Mostly shagging the girls.