Eli Mercer had a rough life.
He never stayed anywhere too long, drifting from town to town, scraping by on whatever work he could find. Butcher's apprentice, stable hand, market helper—anything that put food in his stomach. That was the only thing that mattered.
His old man? A drunk, barely acknowledged him except when there wasn't a bottle in his hand. His mother died when he was five, and after that, home was just a place to sleep when he wasn't working.
By fourteen, he was done with it. Stole a knife and whatever supplies he could carry and ran. He expected it to be hard, but it was better than staying.
For years, he moved from place to place, picking up skills and learning how to survive. Never settled down. Never trusted anyone.
Then he heard about Valentine. A busy town, with work opportunities, and plenty of people passing through. Sounded like the kind of place where he could make something of himself.
He almost made it, too.
Just a day out from town, he set up camp in the woods, figuring he'd rest before heading in. That's when they found him.
O'Driscolls.
Five of them, laughing, grinning like they were hunting for sport. They took his horse, his money, and his gear, leaving him with nothing. Then, for fun, they beat him and left him for dead.
His last memory was the cold dirt beneath him and the taste of blood in his mouth.
...
....
Then he woke up.
Pain. Dull, throbbing. His head pounded like it had been split open and barely stitched back together. He blinked up at the trees, confusion settling in. The last thing he remembered was dying.
Then, a voice.
"Host body identified: Elias Mercer. "
"What?"
He heard the words, but no one was there. His surroundings were silent - just the rustling trees. A chill crawled down his spine. Then came the memories. His name. His past. But mixed in was something new. Memories of another life. A different name. Modern cities, machines that moved without horses, weapons that fired faster than the eye could track. Advanced technologies and most importantly the memory of Red Dead Redemption 2.
"No way. It can't be!" said Eli.
His head spun as information flooded his mind. The same voice again rang in his head.
"Player has gained skills. Danger Sense, Storage Space, Hunter, Resistance, one who defies Death"
The voice faded, leaving behind silence.
It didn't make sense. It shouldn't have been possible. But he was alive, and right now, that was all that mattered.
Then his stomach twisted, a deep, gnawing hunger pulling him back to reality. Eli pushed himself up, staggering slightly as his vision adjusted. He had nothing, no weapons, no food, just the clothes on his back.
His Hunter skill kicked in before he even understood how it worked. The world-shifted he could tell what was edible, what was toxic, and tracks on the ground that led to prey.
A rabbit trail.
"That'd do."
He needed a weapon first. He found a branch that looked sturdy, broke off the tip with a sharp stone, and shaped it into something useful. Wasn't perfect, but it'd get the job done.
He moved carefully, silent as he followed the faint prints through the underbrush. His steps barely made a sound, his body adjusting to the rhythm of the hunt. A flash of fur ahead still and unaware.
One throw, one kill.
The rabbit jerked, a high-pitched squeal escaping before it fell limp.
"Holy shit! That worked better than I thought."
He retrieved the carcass, kneeling to skin it with his bare hands. Skinning was second nature, the motions coming easy. The familiar motions, slice, pull and separate. He easily deconstructed the rabbit. Cutting the hide carefully and creating a perfect pelt, using it to make a crude water pouch, tying it with sinew and setting it aside.
Fire was harder. No tools, no flint. His eyes scanned the surroundings, settling on dried bark and pine resin clinging to a fallen tree. He gathered it, then searched for a pair of flat stones. With some effort, he struck them together, sending tiny sparks into the dry tinder. The embers caught and soon a small fire flickered to life.
He cooked the rabbit slowly, the scent of roasted meat filling the air.
"Still can't believe I'm still alive!"
Eli said as he picked up the cooked rabbit pieces. Eating and chewing methodically.
"The world sure looks different in the future"
Eli looked into the distance as the sun was setting.
The rabbit wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him moving. Now he was feeling thirsty. Grabbing the crude water pouch from the ground, he followed his Hunter Instinct which guided him to a small stream nearby, where he filled the pouch and drank deeply. The water was cold and fresh, but most importantly, he wouldn't get sick from it. Knowing the Resistance skill negates all illness, sickness and poison. Thankfully God was kind enough to leave alcohol, so he still could get drunk.
Night came fast in the wild. The fire burned low, and he sat near it. Then he heard the horses.
Two men, voices loud, slurred with drink. Drunks. He didn't move, just watched from the shadows as they rode closer.
"Well, look at that," one of them drawled, eyeing the fire. "Poor bastard all alone out here."
He stayed quiet. Let them make the first move.
One dismounted, swaying slightly as he stepped forward. "Hey, fella, you lost?"
The other chuckled from his saddle. "Bet he's got something' worth takin'."
His gut told him this wasn't going to end with a handshake. The moment the first man reached for him; it happened.
Danger Sense flared. Time slowed.
He saw everything how the man's fingers twitched toward his belt, how the other shifted in his saddle, reaching for something. He moved before either could react.
The makeshift spear flashed in his grip, digging into the first man's throat. Reaching to the man's waist he pulled a knife out from it sheath. The second barely had time to react before slamming his knife into the drunk's throat.
"grgaaghoag"
"grgaaghoag"
2 pair of eyes on him. Looking at him with anger but the light in them slowly died out.
The bodies slumped to the ground, lifeless. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. First kills in this new life. Wouldn't be the last.
He worked quickly, stripping them of everything useful. Two revolvers, ammo, some rations, 14 dollars. Not much, but better than nothing. The horses were the real prize. His Hunter skill helped him read them, and he picked the stronger one for riding, and the other for carrying supplies.
The bodies had to go. Grabbing their limbs, he dragged them to the undergrowth. Opening a can of beef, he got from one of the men, he poured its contents on the men's bodies. Then without a second of hesitation, he used the knife to cut their faces up and remove any hair. So that even if their bodies were found before Mother Nature could get rid of the evidence, they couldn't be identified from their hair or facial features.
Without a word, he walked back to the horses. Mounted up and rode into the woods.
His footsteps disappeared into the dark, swallowed by the trees.