Here There be Monsters

Chapter One: Here He Comes

    A sudden raspy voice came to life as the man woke up in the pitch-black room. Cold seeped into the empty space as he curled up hugging himself to keep warm. Any movement pained him, even breathing. And with each breath came a sharp pain of what felt like a knife in his lung.  His ribs felt broken. Bleeding lacerations lined his arms and back, his torn shirt and jacket providing little aid to gauze the wounds. With great effort and a groan, the injured man wobbled as he stood up, his eyes beginning to blink rapidly as he attempted to adjust his vision in the room. However, it was all in vain. He kept his arms out in front of him as he walked, meeting, and then feeling the wall he found before him. It had a metal feel to it, with strange netting lining some parts. He continued to feel around until he realized that his square room may not have a door.. his breath picked up as panicked filled him. where was he? Was he in some twisted prison? Had he done something wrong? Before his thoughts ran any more rampant, a loud bang sounded outside, silencing his mind, but not his panic. The man jumped, surprised by the noise, and began hugging the wall he was searching in an attempt to hide. Suddenly a heavy metal door on the end of the room swung open, slamming the wall the door was attached to in a loud clang. A gust of snowflakes gushed into the room, causing the cold to worsen. There was no one outside to greet him. Just what seemed to be a never-ending snowscape. 

    The man would slowly and painfully wobble to the entrance of the door, peeking out. Not a soul greeted him. Was he all alone? Who opened the door? In search of these questions, he continued outside, the blinding light reflecting off of the snow temporarily hindering his vision, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in the middle of a forest, and the room he was in was some sort of bunker with a snow flurry occupying the air around him. Looking to the ground there was an empty bullet casing and accompanying it a few yards away; a blood trail. His chest heaved with pain as his heart rate and breathing quickened. The situation turned from bad, to dire. Nearby the blood trail was two sets of footprints. One could be the shooters. The man looked back to his bunker, wondering if it would be worth chasing a man with a gun and his victim into the forest was a good idea or if he should just camp out in his bunker and wait for help to arrive. He shivered and realized he’d freeze in the bunker before help arrived. Besides, what if the man with the gun showed back up? Snowflakes danced in the air as they made their inevitable descent down onto the ground. Through the flurry, the man trudged through the snow, following the footprints and blood. The sound of crunching snow filled his ears and offered a form of distraction from his numb feet and body until he heard another sound; a stream. 

    The footprints stopped at its shore. nearby was a large mass of disturbed snow and bloodied ice in the stream as well as a large amount of crimson on the bank. The man looked around to see if the body sank to the bottom or floated down the stream, curiosity staying his worried mind for only a moment until he realized something was off. There were no footprints leading away from the river. His gaze shoots to the tree line on the other bank. Nothing. He was about to turn around when he heard a distinctive click of a hammer being set. He was paralyzed with fear until a gruff, hoarse voice spoke. “Turn around. Slowly. Any sudden movements and I'll blow you into the river” The man did as he was told, shakily, until he could see his prosecutors figure. A woman, dressed in full winter gear and a mask stood aiming a rifle at the freezing and injured man. Behind the mask, eyes peered over the man seeming to evaluate him. A long silence was sustained, broken only by the water of the stream. She commanded again. “Hop the river, there's a town you can stay in. And if you know what's good for you, don't come back into these woods. Unless you want to be ripped up by a beast of the likes you've never seen.” She seemed to wait for an answer, but before the man could speak, she turned and marched back through the snow. 

    The small snow flurry that surrounded them seemed to be getting worse. The man remained in the white powder, still stunned by what happened until a shudder of pain and chills woke him. He'd decide to follow the woman’s advice and take a running leap across the river. He landed awkwardly, his rib feeling like it was trying to kill him, and his limbs like they were better off laying in the snow. He figured the cold was starting to get to him, so he quickened his pace, and with rasping breaths, he paced through the forest until he came to the town the person spoke of. He stopped at the edge of the small village, a road separating him from his sanctuary. He could hardly believe it, he might think it was a mirage if the cold and pain didn't seem so real. However, before he could take the first step, a low growl would emit from the woods behind him. The man sprung forward, pain emitting from the action. He'd waste no time and began turning quickly to the sound, but could not see the owner. A gunshot rang through the woods and a thud came from a nearby bush. The woman with the gun came triumphantly out of the woods, walking towards the bush. She took off the mask revealing a soft face and long golden hair. She smiled and in a much sweeter voice, spoke. “You make for some fine bait. Though I don't think you're going to want to spend more time in my bunker. Let me buy you a drink, Damien.”