Monster Hunt
This entry is inspired by my Fallout 3 gaming experience. Due to its violent nature, please note that this content is suitable for mature audiences only.
When I was a child, I was deeply afraid of monsters. At the time, my dad would tell me they were nothing but figments of my imagination or that I've been watching too many vids lately.
However, after emerging from my home vault and walking in the wastelands of former Washington D.C., I realized that monsters were very real. I encountered gigantic scorpions which required major firepower to destroy. These things, much like the other natural wildlife, mutated into lethal monstrosities by being exposed to World War III's atomic weapons. God knows how many people have died since these creatures spawned worldwide.
Hunting monsters was my calling. And I enjoyed it immensely as adrenaline pumped through my body. This career path was quite economical too as I collected their meats for nutrients and bartered for something better with caravan merchants. Quite risky but that's why I must train diligently.
Monsters are not the smartest creatures but they have uncanny perception. Naturally, stealth is an essential skill in the hunting business. Pulling off the first strikes against these fiends is always a good thing - you don't want a radscorpion sneaking up on you and impaling your body with its two foot long stinger. So training is something I take very seriously. While reading covert ops books helps, nothing is better than actually practicing stealth. Obviously, the best time to do that is at night.
On my prowl for monsters, I came across a school bus. At first I thought I was alone, until I saw a shadow nearby. Something was on the bus. I crept up slowly to get a better view.
I found my target. It wasn't a multi-legged monster. It was worse. People referred these beings as raiders. These people (if you can even call them people) gave up their humanity to be the blood-thirsty scum of the earth. They banded with other psychos to prey on the innocent. I've seen their handiwork as they decorate body parts of victims around their homes - a warning or celebration of how cruel they could be.
The front of the school bus confirmed my raider suspicion as a limbless female corpse rested on a bloodied pike. The image made me want to puke. I held in my dinner as I clenched my fists and swore to myself that this woman will be avenged.
The raider was alone. His headquarters must be nearby - after all, the school bus functioned as a watch tower. Time to test my sneaky skills.
Taking out my pistol, I ran as silently as I could to the bus. Unfortunately, I wasn't quiet enough. I failed to see a bent tin can on the ground and knocked it over. The man turned his head towards my direction. He saw me and I froze.
In his hand was a THERMAL DETONATOR!
Just kidding, it was a frag grenade - I was inspired to quote one of my favorite sci-fi vids. But I knew I was in a very bad situation. He had considerable cover with a vertical advantage and I had nothing to hide behind.
I realized that a one-time headshot would not work. The raider was wearing an arclight helmet, an ugly plated headgear that protects the face from welding metal sparks and in this case, my bullets. The man was covered in heavy armor as well. He flicked off the grenade's switch. It was hot and about to be thrown.
I made a quick mental prayer. I might have also soiled my pants.
The bastard yelled out, "It's time to die, Chicken Shit!"
The raider took a step forward, giving his throwing arm the momentum to seal my fate. In a split second, I did the unthinkable. My pistol fired.
BOOM!
The frag grenade detonated. A red cloud of flesh and guts sprayed the ground near me. I could have sworn one of the raider's eyeballs bounced off my right shoulder.
For a good ten seconds, I just stood there in amazement. I knew the explosion would grab the attention of other raiders and attract the nearby wildlife. It was time for me to leave. But wow, I just did something a normal person can only dream of doing. I shot a freaking grenade out of a man's moving hand. God certainly answers prayers.
Although I failed my stealthy exercise, I left with a huge smile on my face. Justice can be very sweet... and umm... messy. On that note, I need to seek out a new pair of jeans.