Story A Story of MC-War

Yep, I'm writing a new series. My writing skill has improved over the past year, but can some of you still bother giving me feedback?

Spoiler: Part 1 - The will for survival

I sit in my tree, like normal, with my back at the main stem and my legs resting over a smaller branch, rifle ready, watching out for people that won't ever find us here. I hold up my diary and write in it, just to get time to go. God knows where these people get these things from. Paper and ink? How is that possible here? Did the game even have books we could write in? Why do we have to live under these ****ty conditions while those with real weapons get to live in a modern city? At least I know both the rich and the poor have one thing in common; neither of us is getting away.

I climb down the tree; I see the first sun rays over the forest. That means Majora is going to take over my spot. When I am a meter above the surface I jump down, stomping the grass. I walk towards the little hut we set up, if we can even call it a hut. Four corner logs planted good into the ground and four logs spiked horizontally between them, creating a square. Then just longer logs stacked on the top of those so we get a roof. Building huts like this was fun in the real world, but here... living in them? God, I swear if I get one more rainy night I am going to burn this whole forest down. When I walk into our hut I find nobody home. No Majora, no Randomcitizen, no Ostby, like I had not enough problems already. “Someone"? I try to call for them, maybe they are pranking me. I doubt it, if they have left, it was for a reason.

But that was two years ago. When I look back at it, I wish they had been pranking me. I met up with Majora a few hours later, but we never found the rest of them. Majora had told me he went out to search for food, and found the hut empty. He probably returned after I did, forgetting about his guard duty. Neither of that matters now, the chance of re-uniting our team is zero. A merchant told us about recent raids from HACK, and that they were clearing out the low-class players. HACK? God, do the players really unite into those groups again? Had it not been enough of that while it still was a game? Yes, they unite into clans again. A God-damn three sided war between HACK, FLUX and TRA could not be avoided.

We're on our way to TRA, who has their stronghold in what used to be a modern city. We heard they were recruiting, and that sounds like a good chance of actually getting into safety. As a member of TRA we'll at least have food and a home... we'll see how it works out once we get there, but I have the feeling we can get in but not out. A normal day of walking, from dawn to noon and noon to dusk, day after day, week after week. Hell, do any of us even count anymore? Last time I checked, we had been here for three years and a half. We heard TRA had an exact clock, so we'll get the answer on how long we've been on the run there. The worst anarchy is gone, but the three major fractions at war isn’t an improvement. How I see it, we are a bunch of teenagers killing each other for nothing. Grassy plains all around us, forest on the eastern horizon... nothing else than walking, walking using the forest as direction, over the somewhat hilly plains.

Sunset, finally. I sit down on the dry grass and take off my backpack, I empty it in front of me. Magnum with two rounds, a few birds we shot the other day packed into bloody paper, full of lead we have to pick out. A knife, two inches or something, a modern pen and a stack of paper held together with rubber bands. Majora sits down ahead of me, emptying his backpack. A shotgun I can’t name with a few rounds, an invaluable map of the area ahead and two military blankets. He hands one of them to me, not a single word from either of us, there isn’t anything to say. I just lay one over me and try to get as much sleep as I can, because tomorrow we’ll finally reach TRA, if we walk quickly and maybe a little longer than usual. Majora has to be the watch first tonight, but just like me he knows there won’t be anything out tonight, just like all the other nights.
Twelve hour days and twelve hour nights, seasons doesn’t exist in this place. After what I can see on the moon position there is five hours since Majora woke me up and went to sleep himself. One more hour and we’re on our way again. I have a will for survival, and that will is what gives me hope, hope for ever getting out.

 

Yeah yeah, I'm writing more. As I'm actually writing a story now, instead of just spitting out violent sketches, it will take time. Beginning.... now.

 

It did.