I write an Isekai about communist revolution until an anime is made out of it

Tooth and Nail

I kept trudging north until the sun began to set and it finally occurred to me to find somewhere to sleep. In the next few minutes, I spotted an abandoned cabin from the corner of my eye - barely standing, but I figured half a roof over my head was better than none. Now I realized that I never packed so much as a bedroll, and with the heat of physical strain wearing off it was beginning to feel cold.

Well, shit. This is better than nothing at all, I guess... Actually, I did pack a coat, didn't I? With that, I pulled it from the pack I had just dropped, and as I slipped it on it occurred to me that I didn't even know what it was made of. It was some kind of leather, at least, and unless that tailor in Morgenheim had lied to my face it was from some fantastic beast with skin much lighter and stronger than cowhide. Which wasn't really very helpful; what actually is it? Maybe its' from some flying animal, like a giant bat or something? Or, I'm actually overthinking this - it could just be anything fast, like a cheetah or something. Is cheetah skin even strong, though? Fair point, a tiger or something probably has stronger skin, or, actually, couldn't it just be some reptile? Is making leather from reptiles even effective? Well, it wasn't efficient on earth, but that's just because there it's all about mass-production from livestock or making it synthetically, which isn't much of a concern here --

Are you done? I've been on the move literally all day, can you not just go to sleep? Pacing around pondering random shit in the middle of the night really isn't a piece of home I should be bringing back right now.

At that, I finally lie myself down on the most comfortable piece of bare ground I could find, and attempted to go to sleep. I only managed that for a few minutes before the crawling bugs got on my nerves and I was back to pacing around pondering nonsense, "just like the good old days", only this time I'm outdoors. Also I'm carrying three guns, if only to fiddle with their loading mechanisms since the fingernails I usually spend these pacing sessions ripping out are covered with gloves.

At long last, I heard something that alerted my monkey brain in a way that all the regular strange noises from the forest oddly didn't. Was that... a horse neighing? No mistaking it, even my city slicker ears could place that immediately. The million-dollar question, then, is did that sound come from a horse with a rider, or some nocturnal creature that sounds like a horse, or just a wild horse? Well, finding out certainly beats standing around here pacing for hours.

Who knows, maybe I'll even get to kill something; gunning down that robot was actually pretty fun.

(this is where I would like to write "please don't let that be an early warning sign of a berserker psychopath" in tiny font, but Wattpad won't let me customize the font because they're too busy financing middle aged women's fantasies of being boned by an alpha-male billionaire werewolf shiek)

As I tread carefully towards the source of that noise, I began to make out the figure of someone who must have been wearing dark clothes to be that hard to spot, and immediately stopped, raised the tommygun, and shouted in my best common (which was still piss-poor):

Hey! Who are you, and, uh- What are you doing here?"

The figure responded by raising its right arm, and then I made out some odd grappling hook hurtling out from it, planting itself under my chest, and then yanking back to the source. Along with a sudden outburst of searing pain, that attack made me stumble forward, but I regained my footing quickly enough to see the figure raise both arms in what looked like dual-wielding, fire two miniature bolts into me from two one-handed crossbows, and yet I felt nothing but the numb warmth of adrenaline under the cold breeze as I opened fire. Only a short burst from the tommygun this time, and none of that time-slowing-down garbage either.

Did I just kill a man?

Hold that thought, he might not be alone, I might need to kill more. And I'm definitely bleeding.

After a good few minutes crouching silently behind a tree, sweeping my sight from side to side, and clenching my right hand over the hole in the center of my torso, I concluded that this guy (actually, come to think of it, it could be a woman) was, indeed, alone.

Well shit, I just killed someone. Let's see who exactly this was, shall we?

It was a man I'd never seen before, and would (hopefully) never see again - and a very dead one at that; one bullet had struck the upper chest, which was pouring out a pool of blood. Whelp, I didn't think you had it in you but you shot some bastard dead, good on you!

Looking down on the "hand-bows" he had been wielding was enough to remind me that, oh yeah, I've been shot. It's obviously nothing serious, but surely he would know these wouldn't kill me with firepower alone - have I been poisoned? a brief examination revealed that the bolts had stuck harmlessly into my coat, but, oh yeah, there's still that hole from the grappling hook to deal with. With scarcely a second of self-referential thought, I returned to my backpack and produced a strip of what was effectively gauze, and a flask of some strong spirit (hell, it could actually be vodka for all I know). I'd never drank before, and I never intended to start, but back in the city I figured I'd need something that works as disinfectant, but all the "healing potions" for sale sounded suspiciously like snake oil - and were probably full of hard drugs - to the point that I decided to just stick with what I could remember from home.

In another few minutes, I was back on my feet, with the pain that adrenaline had suppressed welling up under my new wound. I was no doctor, but that hook appeared to have snagged on my coat, and barely pierced the skin, and what it did pierce looked and felt like belly fat. It hurt like a bitch, but I would be fine, probably, assuming that hook wasn't poisoned. Returning to the body, the barbed head of that "hook-shot" looked like it wasn't even capable of being coated with poison, and now that I gave it closer look, there was some exo-skeletal metal frame extending from the hook at his wrist, down his arm, and to his back, and he seemed to have a dislocated shoulder. The whole thing was at least gross and shocking enough that I left the body, and returned my attention to the cause of that sound: it must have been his horse!

A "brief search", and there it (or rather "she", judging by the apparent lack of horse testicles under the deep black body) was, tethered to a hollowed tree. He left his horse tethered in a situation where he might need a speedy escape? This guy's methods were as dumb as his equipment. That notion held for a good few seconds, before I came close enough to see the scars on her sides which could only have been made from spurs, and - on the neck too?

At least this thing won't miss him, I guess.

In any case, she was going absolutely apeshit, pulling on the tether and kicking towards me. I'd never dealt with an actual horse before, but red dead 2 and my horse-obsessed sister had prepared me for this. I spent half an hour whispering sweet nothings at her, and then another half-hour patting her, before I was confident enough haul myself onto the saddle.

Well, I certainly won't be sleeping after that. Let's ride.