PUBG Origins

Welcome to Erangel

             My eyes dart around the roof top searching for whatever supplies I may find. I spot something lying on the far side and go to sprint over when my ears perk up to a nearby sound I wish wasn't there. The rustle of wind on a canopy for just a moment before a thud. Someone else had just touched down nearby and are now approaching my building.
I hesitated no longer and within seconds I was grasping a pistol which I knew to be a P92 and was loading the 9mm ammo into the 15 round magazine. I could hear the door to the first floor of the building swing open with a crash and from this I gather that he is in a rush to find a weapon and thus likely to be currently unarmed, but that could change at any moment. My weapon is drawn and ready and I have decided on taking this guy out as soon as possible before he becomes someone dangerous in my AO. Leaping over the railing to the second floor of the building I spot a bullet vest lying on the large balcony which I take no time in throwing over my head. It is only light and will take little to break but better than nothing.
At this point I know whoever is downstairs will know I am here- I've made too much noise to think about taking a stealth route but i count on my instincts telling me they still lurk on the first floor.
I slowly open the door to enter the inside of the observatory and out of the corner of my eye I see further supplies lying on the ground but this time I ignore them. All my senses and focus is drawn to the approaching fight. A single flight of stairs separate me from the attacker below and I know waiting any longer will nibble away at any advantage I may hold. My eyes are fixed on the apex as I step, a foot at a time, down each stair with the P92 taking the lead attached to my outstretched arms. I make it to the mid way point and peer around to the floor below and see very little in the darkness shrouding the room. I make out broken large computers that look dated from perhaps before the 80's, a tiled floor and not much else. The small amount of sunlight escaping in seems only to light up the dust that lingers and floats in the air as thick as to be almost fog like.
My heart thuds in my chest, the sound drowns out any noise there may be as the beating fills my ears. A drop of sweat escapes from my hairline, slides down the front of my nose and drips to the stone floor beneath me. My breathing is stifled as I begin my decent to the floor where my adversary lays in waiting.

I had taken just one step onto the floor when to the side of me a crash and a dark figure closes the gap immediately. I swing my pistol round but before I can line up for the shot hands seize and hold firmly my wrists. A knee strikes my gut sending me reeling back but only after my weapon is knocked from my hand which flies across the room and lands in a dark corner somewhere out of sight.
Neither of us chase after it but instead we stand poised with our fists held up in a boxers stance. The darkness has softened due to my eyes adjusting to the dim light and I can make out more of my foes features. He is not a particularly large man but his eyes are wide and blood shot and he looks visibly shaken. I soon deduct that he is desperate and mostly acting on instinct alone, which can make him as dangerous as any other. I slow my breathing and calm, take control over my thoughts and focus my resolve to survive. Panic is the enemy and pain is weakness leaving my body.
I make the first move, closing the metre gap and lunging with my weaker left fist in a feint. He dodges right and positions perfectly for my strong right hook which connects with his temple. Blood streaks from his head as he stumbles and flounders nearly falling to the floor. Unfortunately for him i do not allow a moment of respite and follow up with a sweeping low kick to knock his legs from underneath him. His back pounds to the floor heavily from his fall and I take the opportunity to finish the fight. With my knees either side of his chest I take swing after swing at his face, my fists soaked in his blood. "No!" He screams, his arms outstretched in a feeble attempt to separate us and keep my blows away. "No!", "please!" He screams again and again but each time quieter and quieter as blood fills his mouth and throat creating a sickening gargling and spluttering. I lose count of how many times my fists connect with his face, head and throat. All I know is the count continues a few minutes after his kicking slows and his relentless writhing finally ends.

Sweat permeates every bit of my clothing and skin and drips down my arms as they hang loosely at my side. An agonised groan escapes through my silent tears and I slump to my knees besides the body that lies motionless. Staring down at my shaking hands I see that they are now soaked in a crimson red.
A single broken, cracked screen mounted high on the wall suddenly springs to life and through the monitors' scars and the pools of sweat and tears blinding my eyes I can just make out the words flickering.

                  "Welcome to Erangel"