A man with deep brown hair, chocolate eyes, and a stocky stature walked quietly through Atwater with a sniper rifle strapped over his shoulder. He was wearing a navy green jacket that didn't look far from a military coat. A jet black backpack was slung over the opposite shoulder of the rifle, and he had an ammo pouch around his waist.
He had heard gunfire out this way perhaps... thirty minutes ago, and decided to scout the area. Not to mention one of his contacts sent him a warning to keep a lookout for "out of place" strangers... whatever that meant. He knew exactly what territory he was in at the moment, and if he was spotted... well, he had better think quick before getting into worse trouble. A golden retriever walked at his side, she was quiet until now. She booped his leg and he looked down to see what she was doing, and realized she had spotted blood.
The man squatted down and looked closer at the blood, it was fairly fresh. The weather was a little chilly for a day in March, so the blood was probably drying slower, as it hadn't darkened yet. He stood up and began to follow the drops of blood.
"Good girl Chica," he whispered in a low voice, "A result of the gunshots earlier?"
He unconsciously checked his boot for his knife, and pulled it out. He wasn't going to waste a precious bullet at such close range. As he followed the trail, he realized it led to an old, broken down building.
Just then, he heard metal scraping concrete not too far away, and he dashed inside. Squatting down below a large window. His dog laid beneath him, being as quiet as she could, and as carefully as he could, he peeked his head up over the rim of the broken window.
It was an understatement to say he felt anxious at the sight. He felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes widened. They were Skull Breakers... of all people to be out here it was them... did they know he was here?
He quietly took his sniper rifle from his shoulder and took aim. Then he heard the tiniest whimper behind him, he turned sharply, only to see a scared, shaking, bleeding, [p/c] [dog/cat] watching him quietly. He looked back to the group outside, then with a pained face he crawled quietly away from the window, gun in hand.
"Chica shh," he said in the quietest whisper when his dog whined slightly in return to the poor animal. He approached and figured this poor thing must've been what left the blood trail, but... there was no gun wound. Then he looked down and saw her paws. They were cracked, dry, and bleeding from overuse no doubt. He reached out to pet the animal, but it whimpered again and ran behind a counter. The man followed, trying to be quiet, still in an uncomfortable squatting position.
When he rounded the corner of the counter, he almost leapt back in surprise. Lying there, was a small figure, bleeding freely out of their shoulder. If it wasn't for the [h/c], [h/s] hair, and [f/c] jacket thrown off to the side, he would've thought it was just another animal, as bedraggled as they were.
Without thinking, he pulled his pack off and pulled out some fresh bandages. He scooted over and sat down cross-legged and propped the person's head up on his leg as he gingerly examined the bullet wound. Grimacing, he cleaned it with what he had, relieved that the bullet went clean through, and bandaged it tightly. After feeling satisfied with his work, he examined the person closer, and began to wonder if they were an enemy or not.
Wanting to be safer than sorry, he took the pistol and backpack away, then stopped, and checked their boots and nodded slightly when he pulled the hidden knife out too. He put their things a ways away, and gently laid the injured person's head back on the ground. He then began to move away when he stopped once again and looked back.
Thinking hard, with the amount of hesitation he was feeling, he pulled some rope out of his pack while glancing over the counter out the window, seeing the idiots outside wandering around still. They were looking for someone alright... He looked at the injured person before him. Them maybe? Why?
He tied their hands together, being careful with the wounded arm. The animal growled, but Chica stood in front of her, staring her down. It must be their pet, the man thought, At least it's smart. Really smart, did it know to ask me for help?
He shook the thought away and moved into a position for attack in case the Skull Breakers got too close. It would be messy, considering he specialized in long range, but he would manage. He's dealt with their kind plenty of times.
* * *
You felt yourself coming back to reality. Your vision was blurred, and the pain in your shoulder was muffled... strange. Was this what it felt like to die? No... it couldn't be, dying couldn't hurt this bad. You blinked a few times to clear your vision and looked up to see a figure squatting a little ways from you, holding what looked like a sniper rifle over the counter you had fallen behind.
Consciousness immediately slapped you in the face like a brick wall, but when you tried to move, you realized your hands were tied. You've been captured! You rolled over onto your stomach to try and kick the man's knees out from underneath him, but the moment you attempted to kick, you felt hot, drooly breath on the back of your neck.
You looked over your shoulder and a yellow dog stood over you, teeth bared in a warning snarl. When the dog attempted to growl, but the man hushed her and he looked over. The dog got off of you and you slowly rolled back onto your back.
The man merely put a finger to his lip to tell you to keep quiet, and you shook your head angrily and took a breath to yell.
He dropped down close to your face and clasped a hand over your mouth with an angered expression. He spoke in a soft whisper, "I'm trying to help you dumbass."
"Then why are my hands bound!" you whispered back to him aggressively after jerking your head away from his hand.
He shook his head, "I can't trust everyone in this fucking world now can I?"
You clamped your mouth shut when he briefly told you there were people outside looking around, but you refused to say anything else. You already felt foolish as it was to have gotten into a situation like this, especially when you were so close to your destination!
"You can call me Mark," the man whispered after a moment. He tested his aim with the rifle, "But don't use it too much, I might get sick of hearing your voice."
Oh ho ho, this guy was a testy one wasn't he? You hissed in reply and turned away, mumbling to yourself, "I hope they blast you to pieces."
You looked for your backpack and saw that it was just out of reach. Even your boot knife was gone. Who the hell was this wise guy anyways, and what right did he have to tie you up!?
YOU ARE READING
Markiplier x Reader | The Promised Land
Hayran Kurgu|SFW | COMPLETE| In a post-apocalyptic era, the world lays in ruin. Half of it is nothing but nuclear fallout, and the other half is full of gangs, marauders, thugs, and a small portion of good folk. You consider yourself one of the good folk. Havin...
