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7.69% Consuming Fire / Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Words in My Mind
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Consuming Fire

Auteur: jasperbumper1349

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Chapitre 1: Chapter 1: Words in My Mind

"On the shore, I was lying down on my mother's lap. I was a child at the time, and we were spending the day together. I stood up and approached the sea, touching the calming water. In the distance, I saw a ship equipped with cannons and mortars. It began to bombard the land, the town on the mountains, and us. We were under attack. Rockets struck, and we were knocked unconscious. I heard my mother's cry before everything went black. It was just a dream.

I opened my eyes to see the jungle burning. I stood on the shore, but my mother lay lifeless beside me. I approached her, held her head, and kissed her forehead. I carried her into the jungle and buried her there. I placed a cross on her grave and spoke to her, saying, 'I love you, Mom.' We were the only two in our house, and now, I'm alone. I will never forget that day we were attacked. 

I will find the person responsible and kill him. I will not forgive him or his army for what they did to my mother."


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Chapitre 2: Chapter 2: Lone Hunter in the Jungle

The jungle was still, the silence broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves. Suddenly, a shot rang out, echoing through the trees. A wild boar, moments ago grazing peacefully, dropped to the ground, a clean bullet hole through its head. High above in the branches, a man revealed himself, his camouflage blending seamlessly with the foliage. He held an M-700 sniper rifle, equipped with an extended magazine and suppressor. With practiced efficiency, he descended the tree, retrieved the boar, and slung it over his shoulder.

Back at his small, secluded house, the man, known simply as Hunter, prepared his meal. Alone, he kindled a campfire and began frying the boar meat. The aroma filled the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the jungle. Once the meat was cooked, he ate in silence, washing it down with water from a nearby stream. This was his routine, a solitary existence shaped by necessity and survival.

As he finished his breakfast, Hunter heard distant shouting. He stood, grabbed his sniper rifle, and moved to a vantage point overlooking the road below. Through the scope, he saw a checkpoint manned by Grimlock's army, their presence a constant reminder of the jungle's new overlords. The private army, led by Draven Grimlock, had conquered the island years ago, transforming it into their personal fiefdom. Grimlock's soldiers now patrolled the jungle, their checkpoints scattered like a plague.

At the checkpoint, a civilian was being harassed. Hunter watched as the soldiers beat the man and commandeered his vehicle. His grip tightened on the rifle. These men were brutal, their power unchecked. With steely determination, he aimed at the soldiers. One by one, he picked them off, each shot precise and lethal. The soldiers fell, their bodies crumpling without knowing what hit them. In the chaos, the civilian seized his chance, jumping into his vehicle and speeding away, fear propelling him forward.

Hunter lay still, his breathing steady as he scanned the area for more threats. Satisfied the immediate danger had passed, he rose and made his way back to his house. This was his home, nestled deep within the jungle. Here, he was both hunter and hunted, a solitary figure on a mission of vengeance.

Years ago, Hunter had lost his mother when Grimlock's army first invaded the island. The memory of that day was seared into his mind. He recalled the rockets streaking through the sky, the explosions that followed, and the sight of his mother's lifeless body amidst the chaos. The pain of that loss had never faded, fueling his resolve to take down Draven Grimlock and his army.

Back in his house, Hunter carefully hung his sniper rifle on a nail, a ritualistic act that signaled the end of another day's hunt. He turned on a small fan to combat the oppressive jungle heat and lay down on his futon. As he stared at the ceiling, memories of his mother flooded back. He remembered her smile, her touch, and the way she had comforted him on the darkest of nights. The image of the attack replayed in his mind—the rockets, the flames, the screams. His resolve hardened. He would not rest until Grimlock paid for what he had done.

Hunter's thoughts drifted to the future. He knew the path ahead would be perilous, but he was prepared for the challenge. His life had become a testament to survival and retribution. Each day in the jungle honed his skills, each encounter with Grimlock's soldiers a step closer to his ultimate goal. He had no illusions about the difficulty of his mission, but his determination was unwavering.

As the night enveloped the jungle, Hunter allowed himself a moment of peace. The fan whirred softly, a lullaby in the otherwise silent night. He closed his eyes, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges, new hunts. But for now, he was content to rest, his heart filled with the unyielding promise of vengeance.

This was Hunter's life—a solitary crusade in the heart of the jungle, driven by the memory of his mother and the burning desire for justice. And he would not stop until Grimlock and his army were no more.


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jasperbumper1349 jasperbumper1349

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