Alek opens his eyes, quickly using his arm to cover his eyes from the bright gray sky above him.
"What the fuck..." Alek mumbles to himself. He turns his head to the side, looking down at the road below him. He saw a corpse, a heavily armored Individual with their helmet's visor cracked, blood dripping from it.
Alek quickly sits up, staring down at the corpse, the oozing blood dripping down onto the asphalt, pooling below the corpse's head. He gags, quickly looking away, turning his head away from the scene, witnessing the rest of the scene he mysteriously found himself in. Roof of a car.
"How the hell... where am I?" Alek mumbles to himself. He slides himself off of the car, hitting the ground hard with his feet, crouching down from the impact. His clothes were bloody, ripped, and worn. He stands, gripping his arm close to his chest as he walks his way around the car back towards the corpse. 3 more of them reveal themselves, mangled and shot. Bloody fucking messes smeared on the pavement.
Alek can't help but groan at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut at the sight. He couldn't stand the sight. He had seen dead bodies before, but these... These weren't like what he had seen. He inched his way towards one of the corpses, leaning over them. He got a closer look at the armor they were wearing. It looked intact, but it was bloody. Very bloody. He bent down and touched it, the blood staining his white fur a deep maroon color. He stared down at his hand for a few moments, touching the blood between his fingers. Sticky.
"That's gross..." Alek remarked to himself. He stood up, wiping his paw off on his hoodie, once neon yellow in color, now matted in dirt and other... shit. He looked onward down the road, not seeing much other than a few other miscellaneous broken vehicles. The wolf looked back down at the corpse that sat below him, eyeing down what they had on them. Bloody armor, green and yellow in color, armband that read "S.O.M.A", and a holster with no gun.
Alek stared at the holster for a minute, then turned his attention to the area around the corpse. He eyes a handgun resting close to the paw of one of the soldiers. He bent down, picking the heavy hunk of metal up off the ground, staring down at it. He unloaded the magazine, looking down into it. Ammo sat inside, deeming the gun not useless. He sighed, looking back down at the corpse. He spotted a name scrawled on the back of the armor. Harris.
"Sorry Harris." He mumbled to himself before stuffing the handgun into the pocket of his hoodie.
YOU ARE READING
OUT OF CONTEXT
Short StoryWell, what this is is a collection of inspiration writing with no context nor flowing storyline. This is simply a public collection of short little scenes with (you guessed it) NO CONTEXT to each other. If you're bored or you don't know me, here's j...
