10-30 Chap 1 redux Moose42's MHI Fan Fiction *Spoiler Alert*

[JohnOC]

Even with a bunch of 'fleshing out' in the middle, this is still more along the lines of a short story than a novel. Though in some respects that is a good thing, not every story in that setting has to be an epic. MHI was pretty long for the market, though many of the authors in Baen's catalog do write very long novels, they mainly have substantial fan-bases before getting there.

Even as a short story, it does need some more middle. Its got a good beginning and a very good climax and ending. Its a good story. Needs more character, setting, and event development in the middle.

[moose42]

I am an idiot.

I have been re reading my book and I just realized I had introduced a cool character in chapter 6 and apparently promptly forgot him. Charles "Sarge" Brewer.

I struggled into my armor, I hadn’t ever worn anything like this before. I opted for one in Olive drab. Charles Brewer, already had his Brown armor on and it looked like it was made for him, everything was perfectly in its place. He had served in the Marines for just over 15 years until a blow to the head had caused him to lose a little of his peripheral vision in one eye. He fought his medical discharge saying he could still fight and shoot with the best of them. But the government prevailed and forced him out. We had hit it off right away when he found out my Grandfather was a former Marine and Hunter. I called him Gunny, or Sarge.

So I made this character in chapter 6 and he doesn't appear AGAIN! What the heck was I thinking! I have to re write and put him back in. I think I will replace Trip in the "finale" chapters with "Sarge."

Gosh I am such a writing NOOB!

[moose42]

After the first part of chapter 9 and before the plane flight I am going to add some new chapters.

I took out the "Gee I know exactly where the bad guys took my brother!" parts out.

I know some of you may be all about it but I am kind of

So I would like to take suggestions for "hunter activities." to flesh out my story some more.

Thanks.

[moose42]

Ok guys I have RIPPED open the story at the end of Chapter 9 and have added a bunch more content.

The end of Chapter 9

“Marty?” she asked.

I turned to look at her, “Yes?” I replied. Her olive skin glistened with a hint of sweat.

“Put this in your journal.” She whispered in a deep sultry voice. We kissed; her warm, moist lips met mine. I ran my fingers through her deep brown curls, as she pulled me in close. When we finally came up for air she smiled and rubbed my five o’clock shadow. “That’s enough for now, we have work to do.”

I snapped out of my kiss induced stupor, “You’re right. Let’s see if we can find my brother.”

***

Kat and I hit the company archives. Everything from newspaper clippings, to old dusty books on monster and demon lore were housed here. We poured through volume after volume of information about vampires. We were looking for or any similarities between the recent attacks and the past. Unfortunately nothing this current master did seemed to be normal behavior for vampires.

Even though they have incredible strength and speed, the foul blood suckers typically try to keep a low profile. I found multiple volumes of after action reports from MHI Hunts. These reports were a goldmine on all the creatures that the company had taken bounties for. Werewolves, Chupacabras, Gargoyles, swamp beasts, giant insects, and vampires just to name a few. I poured over the reports of every vampire encounter I could find. The vast majority of vampire reports started with missing persons reports.

A chill ran down my spine. How many of those missing person reports so commonly heard about on the ten o’clock news were actually vampire abductions? I would never be able to listen to the news in the same way ever again.

After enough people had gone missing in an area the company would gather intelligence, about possible vampire daylight retreats. They seemed to like the stereotypical hideouts: Abandoned buildings, caves, and old mansions. But one particular report caught my eye.

A former school principal turned vampire had taken refuge in his schools old bell tower. A few students from the cross town rival school came up missing. They had gone to the school in the middle of the night to spray paint their rival colors on the basketball courts. MHI hunters found the would be graffiti artists half starved to death, and drained of dangerous amounts of blood in the bell tower. The vampire was put down and the school mysteriously burned to the ground a couple of years later, no doubt by one of the former victims.

I turned to Kat. “Find anything good yet?”

She had been scrolling through endless newspaper articles on an old microfilm reader. “The news is so distorted it’s sickening. It’s almost a waste of time.” She growled as she turned off the ancient machine.

“Well all that I found is that vampires don’t ever taunt their victims before killing, or kidnapping them.” I pointed to the stacks of scattered reports on the table behind me. “I haven’t found one instance at all like this one, especially where they have challenged hunters directly.”

Kat turned her head to the side a bit, “What do you mean challenged hunters directly.”

“Exactly what it sounds like. The only deaths of hunters by vampires or their cohorts are when we have gone after them.” My head began to hurt. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “I don’t see any cases where vampires have attacked heavily armed men before.” I looked at my watch, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.

“Stop yawning.” Kat demanded as she covered up one of her own.

“I guess that’s what we get for staying up all night.” I offered.

Sarge came around one of the bookshelves; I hadn’t realized he had been standing there. “Oh you two were up all night, hmm.”

“No, not like that!” I said defensively. “I would never. Not with her.” I blustered.

Sarge put a screwy grin on his face, “Sure ok, whatever you say Marty.”

“What do you mean you would never, not with me?” Katrina’s face twisted in rage and embarrassment. She stood up and stomped out of the archive room.

Ah crap, I had stepped in it big time. “No that’s not what I meant.” I sat down on the rickety old chair at the records table. “Sarge what the hell man?”

“Hey don’t look at me junior, you screwed that one up all by yourself. From what I just saw you’re chances just got shot to pieces.” He laughed.

“Just leave me alone.” I moaned. He did. Unfortunately for me, the lack of sleep from last night caught up with me. In minutes I was fast asleep face first in a pile of monster hunter case files.

[moose42]

New chapter 10
Crime and Punishment

“Miller you’re late!” Sam hollered at me, while wearing his well worn cowboy hat. I had overslept in the archive room. I knew I was in for it.

“Sorry sir.” I said as took my place in line.

Sam took his cowboy hat off, that wasn’t ever a good sign. “Sorry, sorry? No I don’t think you’re sorry. Miller front and center!”

I got out of line and stood in front of the instructor. “Mr. Miller here thinks he is sorry. Well I think all of you all need to show him how sorry he is going to be. Hunter trainees drop and give me twenty.” They all groaned and assumed the position. Regular pushups were bad enough but doing them while wearing armor and slinging a rifle was horrid. I was about to hit the pavement when Sam stopped me. “Oh Miller, you just get to watch your fellow recruits be sorry for you.” I could swear he had an evil gleam in his eye.

In a few moments the entire group of trainees was hot and sweaty. The ire from the other recruits scared me in some ways worse than the death mark from a vampire. I really hoped I wouldn’t be bunking in the barracks tonight. Wet towels, tube socks and bars of soap could be deadly weapons in the properly motivated hands. The recruits finished the forced exercise and stood back up.

When Sam dismissed me to go back in line Kim elbowed me and whispered “You’re a dead man Miller.” I ignored him. It was time to get ready for some more training.

The next training course was a multi-stage shoot with rifles and pistols. Reactive steel targets would pop up at each station and the shooter would have to shoot each one two or three times before they would fall.

I fell in the back of the line, I probably should have gone first to get it over with but between my brothers abduction, my issues with Kat, and the harassment from the other recruits I was having hard time getting my head in the game.

“Marty?” Sarge brought me back to reality from my wallowing in self pity. “Look kid, crap happens. The other recruits will forget about you getting them smoked.”

I took my eyes off the dirt for a second, “Sarge, it isn't just that, I am worried about my brother, and I think I might have blown what little relationship I had with Katrina.”

Sarge glanced around quickly, “Hey, don't worry about it, I am sure she would rather you said you didn't want to get it on than make some crude chauvinistic remark about getting her in the sack.”

I hadn't thought about it that way. “I guess that makes sense.” I mumbled.

“Oh and Miller, we will get your brother back. From my time in the Corp and from what I have learned about the Hunters, we will not abandon your brother to be killed by a bunch of pansy bloodsuckers.” He slapped me on the shoulder and shoved me ahead of him in the line. “It's your turn, nail those targets kid.” I knew Steve was right. It was time to get my head back in the game and get as much training as possible.

The buzzer sounded and I ran to the first shooting position fifty feet away. I ran up and crouched behind a wrecked car. At about fifty feet downrange was a mockup of a building. The air actuated targets hissed, four black targets popped up, two in the building and two off to the side. I placed the red dot of my scope on the center mass of the first target and pulled the trigger twice. Using the recoil of the first shot my second shot impacted in the head, the target fell with a satisfying clang. I transitioned to each target and quickly dropped them all, a pair of shots in each.

The next shoot location was another fifty feet across the shooting range. I raced to the next spot. It was setup to look like a first floor window with targets behind multiple barricades. The targets popped up, three black and one white, meaning a no-shoot target. I quickly dropped the two of black targets. The third required an extra shot. Thankfully I hadn't hit the white target; hitting one would add a thirty second time penalty. The recruits with the highest times got stuck with latrine duty. I hustled on to the next stage.

This last stage required climbing up a flight of stairs to reach a shooting platform fifteen feet off the ground. My heart was already pounding in my chest from the running and exhilaration of shooting. I knew it would make aiming that much more difficult. As I reached the shooting position the targets popped up, seven shoot, one no-shoot. I wouldn't have enough rounds in my rifle to finish them all. I dropped my rifle, and let it hang by the sling. I transitioned to my pistol for the closer targets. My .45 snapped up exactly where I needed to aim, I Mozambiqued the first target; two to the body and one to the head. The bullets impacted the steel with loud clangs and it dropped. I eliminated the remaining three close targets, with three rounds each.

The last four targets were about fifty yards away. Quite a distance for pistol shooting but I figured I would fire my last two rounds before going back to the rifle. One satisfying clang of lead on steel, and one cloud of dust told me the target would still be standing, as the slide on my pistol locked back. I shoved it back into its holster and snapped my M14 back into action. I hit the next target in the head and it dropped. Two more targets remained. I pumped two rounds into another target and it dropped.

Only one left! The white no-shoot target was dangerously close to it. I took my time carefully aim to not to drill the friendly target. Clang, the steel plate rang out as the heavy .30 caliber bullet smacked it. I was breathing heavy as I squeezed the trigger again, BANG! Nothing, I had missed, the zombie target I had only winged seemed to taunt me by staying upright. The bolt locked back signifying I was out of ammo. I dropped the magazine and scrambled for a fresh one. I tried to lock it into place but it got stuck on the first try, I slapped it hard and let the bolt fly forward. I snapped the rifle back to my shoulder and fired. Success! The final zombie target went down. The buzzer sounded, as I snapped on the safety.

“TIME!” called the range master.

The recorder looked up from the clock, “One twenty-one!” Not a bad time, most of the recruits had placed somewhere above one minute thirty seconds. No toilet duty for me.

Sarge was next. He was a machine, he flew down the course. Every shot rang true he never missed nor hesitated. His PTR-91 rifle was fast and precise, and his pistol work was amazing with his double stack 1911. As the last target fell I knew he had mopped the floor with my time.

“One sixteen, best time today!” The timekeeper yelled. A man nearly twenty years my senior had flat out beaten me. I was impressed, even with his vision problems; he could really drill those targets. Uncle Sam was stupid for discharging him.

I met Sarge at the exit point to the range, “That was some good shooting Steven.” I complimented him. He muttered something about his vision slowing him down, but even if that was true he still was incredibly fast. I was glad he was on our side.

Katrina was one of the first shooters to finish the course, she had been watching with the rest of the trainees. A hunter I didn’t know was talking to her. He was a tall clean-shaven hunter wearing a red arm patch in the shape of a scorpion. Kat started laughing, and then shot him a beautiful smile. She was flirting with this guy. I took a couple of steps toward them.

“Easy tiger!” Sarge said as he pulled my arm. “Kat isn’t your property just because you like her.” I shook his hand off my arm.

“Sarge, leave me alone.” He was really starting to bother me.

Steve stepped in front of me and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Marty, take my advice, I’ve lost more women in my time than you have ever even known. The last thing you want to do right now is go over there and make an ass of yourself.”

“Get out of my way Brewer.” I whispered with a hint of malice on my breath. “I can take care of my own problems.”

Sarge smiled an evil smile, he looked downrange then back at me. “Marty, you will thank me for this later.” He moved with lightning speed, before I knew it he had snapped the safety off on my rifle and pulled the trigger. The round from my rifle kicked up the gravel near our feet. It ricocheted into the berm downrange. I quickly put the safety back on my rifle.

“CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE!” Sam bellowed. He quickly looked around the range, everyone was pointing at me. Arguing about it wouldn’t help. In moments he was in my face. “Miller! What the HELL? You could have killed someone!”

“I’m sorry it was an accident.” I told the dirt on Sam’s boots. As soon as the words escaped my lips I wished I could take them back.

“Sorry? Damn it Miller you’ve been SORRY all day long!” he barked, “Miller, an accident is when two cars crash into each other. What you just did is called a negligent discharge!” For a moment I wished I could trade places with my brother. No vampire could possibly yell like Sam. “I will not have a Hunter working for this company who is so careless! So I’m gonna have to beat the carelessness out of you!” He tossed his hat into the air. “Give me your rifle!” I didn’t look him in the eye; I pulled the sling off over my head. In moments I was stripped of all my ammo and firearms.

“Backpack!” he yelled. A hunter handed him an empty pack. He took me to a pile of rocks and made me fill the pack. “Now you run until you puke!” he barked as he put the pack on my back. It had to weigh at least fifty pounds.

I shot Sarge a glance; he was wearing a huge ear to ear grin, he waved goodbye cheerfully at me. Thank him later? Right now I wanted to bury him in a shallow grave.

I hit the trail, at least it was overcast. The running course was ten miles over rough terrain through the woods that surrounded the compound. As I started up the first hill; what wasn’t too bad in shorts and running shoes was now horrible with my bag of rocks.

When I was about halfway through my death march, I realized why Steve had done this. I was about to make an ass of myself, and ruin things with Katrina, he was right. I hadn’t been listening to reason; I would have only made things worse. Unfortunately because of him everyone thought I was careless with firearms, definitely not a good quality for the guy behind you to have during a hunt.

In my silent musing I hadn’t noticed the lack of sound in the forest. No singing birds, chattering squirrels, nothing. I felt a chill go up my spine despite my profuse sweating. I stopped jogging; I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I felt like I was suddenly the prey, not predator. I reached for my pistol and grabbed a handful of air. Damn it why did Sam have to take my pistol too. All I was carrying was a bag of rocks, and my grandfathers’ knife. I shrugged off the pack and dumped it on the ground.

I tried to slow my breathing but I was still out of breath from all the physical exertion. I caught something move in the corner of my eye, I spun around. Nothing. Maybe it was my overactive imagination? No something was out there. I unsnapped the leather strap on the old combat knife. It was better than nothing, but it didn’t help me feel much safer.

“Who’s out there?” I called out to the trees. Maybe some hunters had gone the other way down the trail and were trying to mess with me? That was a stupid thought nobody would run five miles just for a prank.

A deep growl came from behind me, I swung around, a dark shape was in the foliage, a pair of gleaming yellow eyes stared at me. Was it another demon dog come to finish what the others had failed to do? My knuckles turned white as I tightened my grip on the old knife. A huge grey wolf poked its head out of the underbrush.

“Good… day Hun Tar!” I took a step back; wolves didn’t talk, what was this? The wolf took another step forward and the bushes parted, a strange green man was riding on its back, he wielded a wicked looking spear and a curved sword hung from his belt.

“Who…” was all I managed to gasp out.

“Are... me?” The green man chortled. “Me... Ork… name… Tommy.” He was smiling. Wow he had a lot of sharp yellow teeth. “You… no… poke… knife ok.” His broken English was difficult to understand.

I lowered my knife, “Sorry I thought your… mount was looking to eat me.” The Orc threw back his head and laughed.

“No… eat… now. We… Hun Tang… pig.” Tommy dismounted from his giant wolf creature, and stuck the spear in the dirt. “What… you… doo… alone?” He asked.

I sheathed my knife, and picked up the heavy pack. “I got in trouble, so they made me run with this sack of rocks.”

The orc laughed, “You be… prune ished?” I nodded. He extended a hand, he was wearing what looked like a fake Rolex watch. I shook his hand; he nearly pulled my arm out of my socket. “You… name?”

I regained some composure and replied. “Umm, people call me Marty.”

He slapped me on the back, “Come… Mar Tea… Hun Tar… we go… Ork… camp… food.” I silently hoped I wasn’t the food he was talking about.

[Dedicated_Dad]

Good stuff. I'm enjoying these reads!

That said, I believe you asked for constructive input - I hope this qualifies...

"...from what I just saw [strike]you’re[/strike] your chances just got shot to pieces.” He laughed..." -- sorry, personal pet-peeve...

The whole Sarge/Steve thing struck me as a bit odd for some reason. Seemed like Miller had a minor case of "hero-worship" going, and I found it strange for him to first-name him - then as I started typing this I remembered that Sarge/Steve was another hunter and not the instructor... Obviously this would be more clear if the chapter were in proper order, so maybe it means nothing - still might be worth considering...

That said, I also had a bit of a problem believing a former .mil Sgt. deliberately causing a ND, or - for that matter - Miller flying off the handle making it "necessary"... If you're convinced Miller's that much of a hot-head, then OK - your story - but someone like "Sarge" would be more likely to just trip him up or dump him face-first in the dirt.

I'm sure you could work out a better / more "fitting" way to get Miller on his run - but I KNOW if someone did to me what "Sarge" did to Miller, I would (1) NEVER trust them with or anywhere near a weapon again and (2) sure as hell make sure anyone in charge knew about it. That's the action of a very dangerous person, not someone of the caliber Sarge otherwise appears to be...

I really - REALLY - hope this helps ...

DD

[moose42]

I really struggled with the forced negligent discharge deal. I finally decided to put it in for two reasons. One to get the whole accident vs negligent discharge speech in there.

And two I tried to show that the round was going down an empty range.

[moose42]

New Chapter 11. Orcs really know how to party.

Chapter 11
Orc Camp

Tommy the Orc walked next to me, his giant wolf trailed behind us like a dog. As we walked I learned his mount was called a Warg. Its shoulders were about five feet high, the beast was incredibly massive. It didn’t seem possible. But then again so many things from the past few weeks didn’t seem possible before. Zombies, vampires, undead dogs, a cockatrice, and now orcs with wargs. The world had changed from the mundane to the strange and dangerous practically overnight. It was like I had taken the blue pill, and awoke to a world completely unlike the one I lived in before.

Tommy led me into a clearing where he had made camp. An old sheepherder’s tent and a couple of tarps strung up around a campfire made it seem at first glance like any other hunters camp. The spears, strange totems and the pig roasting on a spit seemed out of place at the deer camps I remember from when I was a kid.

The Orc slapped me on the shoulder, what was it with every warrior culture and hitting your friends? “Come… Hun Tar, we… eat!” he sounded glad to have visitors. He yelled something in what I assumed was his native tongue; I didn’t know vocal chords could make that kind of noise. Listening to that language all day could possibly cause human ears to bleed.

Eight other orcs came out of the tent, they were all similar in height, a good head and shoulders shorter than me. They wore a mix of second hand clothing, cut off jeans, t shirts from once popular bands, or sporting events from five years ago.

Each of the orcs greeted me by shaking hands and slapping me on the shoulder, by the time the last one had greeted me I was sure my collarbone was going to be irrevocably damaged. They laughed a deep guttural laugh.

Tommy started carving the roast pig, it smelled amazing. Whatever you could say about these green fellows they knew how to cook. I ravenously devoured the pig flesh, as soon as I finished eating they passed me another serving. After my third serving I felt like I was about to burst, I couldn’t eat another bite. Tommy smiled a wicked toothy smile.

“Hun Tar… Mar Tea… is… time… prune ish.” He grabbed me by the handle on the back of my armor and lifted me to my feet. “Harb Anger… tell… ork… give… good… prune ish!” Tommy pushed me back in the clearing. The other orcs began banging drums. He did his best impression of Bruce Lee. When I realized that I was supposed to fight him, I remembered he hadn’t eaten a bite of the pig meat. The cheater was going to make me vomit.

He removed his shirt; his green rippling muscles would make the average gym rat jealous. He was going to kick my butt. He pointed at me and pantomimed removing clothing. I figured that meant I should remove my armor. I did, we were both shirtless. My pasty white skin didn’t seem so warrior like next to his.

He put both hands together and bowed like some strange green Shaolin monk. He waited for me to bow. I did clumsily, and then the fight was on.
Tommy charged me yelling a strange battle cry, his arms flailed wildly above his head. I somehow managed to get mostly out of the way of his attack and he bounced off my shoulder sending me spinning. By the time I recovered he was on me, a fury of punches came at me, striking me in the head, chest, arms and gut. I fell down to my knees. The orcs started laughing, “Float… like… butter fly!” they called out.

“Sting like bee!” I yelled as I charged my combatant. I caught him of guard as I smashed my shoulder into his abs. He staggered back and fell. He lay in the grass for a bit and laughed. In a flash he was back up, with a huge grin on his face.

“Good… hit!” he congratulated me. I nodded and waved for him to bring the next attack. He did, this time I would be ready, he charged and jumped his arm cocked back to do a wicked flying elbow attack. I ducked caught him by the legs. My opponent, cried out in shock as he was thrown to the ground.

I was getting tired, all the running and the overeating was catching up with me. Tommy sprung up from the ground and feinted, I moved to block but he had me, his foot flashed out and he tripped me. It was wrestling time. Thankfully my grandpa insisted I try out for wrestling in high school. He had taught me all the good moves. The orcish drums began to beat louder and faster, my adrenaline was flowing freely through my veins.

We struggled for a bit trying to improve our position; Tommy had climbed on my back. But I had a good grip on his right arm. I rolled over on my back and tried to crush him with my greater weight. Maybe I could get an arm bar on him. I struggled and pulled his arm straight, he howled under the pain of his joints hyper rotating. I had him; He squirmed and flailed trying to get out of the lock.

Tommy rolled up and punched me in the stomach. I struggled to keep the arm bar on him. Another hit to my stomach followed. He didn’t have much room to swing but it was enough to hurt. He pounded on my stomach over and over until I finally released the arm bar. He crawled away. I rolled over on to my hands and knees and lost my lunch. The fight was over, and the drums stopped.

We sat across from each other for a while breathing heavily. After a few minutes he came over and helped me up. We hugged and he slapped me on my bare back, I did the same. “Mar Tea… you… good… war yor!”

One of the other ocrs handed me a dented metal cup from an old army mess kit. I gladly drank the cool thick sweet liquid. Three refills later I realized it was some kind of alcoholic fruit punch. By that time I didn’t really care.

A younger orc came up to me will a couple small bowls of an oddly pungent paint. They proceeded to decorate my chest and face, in a manner that would make the proudest Indian warrior jealous. Tommy removed a leather thong from off his neck, it had a large eye tooth from one of their wargs, and some hand carved wooden beads. He put it over my head. “You… now… Ork… brother!” they all howled, I joined in.

I few moments later I realized that I needed to give him a gift in return. I went to where I had dumped my armor on the ground. I untied a bit of olive drab parachute cord that I used to keep my Ka-Bar on my vest. I brought it back over to Tommy and proceeded to start tying a knot. They watched intently as I worked. I made three loops over my hand, three more back around the other way and then three move weaving in and out of the loops. I picked up a small smooth pebble and stuffed it in the middle of the mess of cord. For the next few minutes I tightened up each look until it looked like a ball. When I had it all cinched down I tied the two loose ends in large loop. It wasn’t a bad version of a monkey’s fist, when tied right it looked a bit like a volleyball. I placed the newly created necklace around his neck and smacked him on the shoulder.

Tommy grinned, “Tank… you… Mar Tea.” I guess he liked it. He smacked me back on my bruised shoulder and we went back to partying.


***

It was almost sundown when I staggered back to the compound. I had to look like a wreck; I had tied my armor to my pack of rocks. I couldn’t quite walk straight, war paint a wild warg tooth necklace and spilled orcish punch covered my bruised chest.

Milo was working rear gate duty when I stumbled up to it. “Halt, identify yourself.” He leveled his M4 carbine at me and switched on his high intensity light.

I held up my hand to shield my eyes. “Hey that’s bright, It’s me Marty Miller, don’t shoot.”

Milo shook his head, “We expected you back hours ago. We were about to send out search parties.” He looked me up and down. “Looks like you met some orcs.”

I smiled a big drunken smile, “Yep! They are really great guys.”

“Well go on and report in.” He just shook his head as he opened the gate. He mumbled something I didn’t quite catch about dead meat. Either I smelled like it or when I got into the compound I would be dead meat, I wasn’t quite sure.

As I walked across the exercise field, a few hunters were playing a game of basketball; they shot me some strange looks. I went past our barracks, Sarge was outside having a smoke. I walked right up to him and dropped my pack of rocks. I put on my best ‘I will swallow your soul’ look. He backed up, “Look Marty, I did it for your own good, you were about to…” I didn’t let him finish.

I held out my hand, “Thank you.” He shook my hand cautiously he must have been expected a flying elbow to the face. “No really, thanks Sarge, I had a great time.” I started laughing uncontrollably. He shook his head and muttered something about kids these days.

Kat had poked her head out of the women’s barracks; she didn’t have a shirt on, meow. She disappeared and moments later came back out wearing a black shirt and uniform pants. She had a mean scowl on her face when she walked up. “Marty? What the hell happened to you? We were worried you had been taken by servants of the vampires.”

I cracked a drunken smile. “Oh you were worried about me. That’s so sweet. Hey darlin’ give me a hug.” I reached out for her. She punched me in the face. My head snapped back and I saw stars.

When I recovered she was long gone, “Oh man, that hurt.” I looked at Steve, “Hey was it something I said?”

“Smooth move Moose.” He rolled his eyes and disappeared into the barracks.
I stood alone by the door for a while until I decided to wander my way into the main building. I picked up my horribly heavy backpack and went to find Sam. I entered the main hall and startled a few people. I probably looked like some sort of monster but I didn’t care as long as they didn’t try to shoot me.

I entered the cafeteria and looked around; a few hunters were finishing late evening meals. Owen was working on his meal at one of the tables with his wife Julie. They looked up as I entered the room.

“Hello there big guy!” I called out across the room. Everyone stared at me.

Julie shook her head and rubbed her temple, “Miller, what the hell happened to you.” Owen looked like he was trying hard to keep from laughing.

I tried the best I could to explain my punishment and run in with the orcish hunting camp but it really didn’t come out right. It found it hard to concentrate and I ended up babbling.

“Miller, are you drunk?” Owen asked me directly.

I shrugged, “Well I dunno, never been drunk before, is this what it feels like?” I dropped my backpack and armor on the floor.

He took a deep breath, “I think we’ll take that as a yes.” He grimaced, “Miller get cleaned up and go back down to the basement ok?”

I wandered back out and went to the barracks to get cleaned up. When I arrived and finally looked in the mirror I finally realized how ridiculous I looked. Smeared war pant covered most of my bruised face. I spent the next half hour scrubbing in the shower, when I shut off the water and reached for my towel I found it was missing. Before I knew it I was hit by a bucket of ice water! I screamed and grabbed my shoulders damn that was cold. I stood there naked and shivering in the shower. Apparently someone was still mad about the pushups I made them do earlier.

Sarge tossed me my towel and I thanked him, fortunately for me nobody had decided to pee on it. I had to remind myself to check my toothpaste for Tabasco sauce.

I made my way back to my “cell” down in the basement of the compound. Sam, Owen, and Harbinger were there waiting for me.

[Precision]

as you continue to write, the prose is improving.

There are some extra words in sentences and things like that, but the character and story development is coming along quite well.

I like this last section the best.

[moose42]

Thanks for the feedback. I feel like I am becoming a bit more comfortable with this whole writing deal.