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I am suddenly woken up to the blaring of alarms, jolting up in my seat. I try to remember where I am, but I just...couldn't reach...the thought...
The back of my head hurts. I attempt to reach up and try to feel for a wound or anything, but my hands are restrained. I look down, getting glimpses of my hands as the red lights flash on and off, and I see myself handcuffed. Oh, yeah, that's right... I was arrested for...honestly, I don't know right now, I think someone might've hit my head really hard...but I do know that I was definitely framed. Did they care? Not at all. Was what I supposedly had done something bad? Who can tell? Definitely not me right now, haha.. But anyway, they were--well, before whatever is going on now happened--transporting me to this...other planet, I think, where they've put other criminals on. Sort of like a huge prison where they can just sit back and allow natural selection to clear room for new inmates.
The alarms are getting louder, the crew members of the transport helicopter getting more and more frantic. I try to eavesdrop as best as I can, and I can hear some words here and there. I piece them together, and in the end I get a story that goes something like, "the pilot had a heart attack, something about an engine catching fire, and we're going to crash into a toxic storm." Hmm, this situation doesn't seem too pleasant, now does it?
It seems like no one's really worrying about me at the moment, which makes sense since we're most definitely all going to die, so I take the opportunity to look out the window. Every second that passes, the ground is getting closer. Well, this seems like this is it, isn't it? I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling a sort of...peace, for some reason. Better than a frenzy of panic, I suppose. I hear the crew shout, "brace for impact!," and suddenly, everything goes black.
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I wake up.
It's cold. Really fuckin' cold. Like so cold, it's causing your lungs to feel like they're...melting..? Wait, that's...concerning.
I look around, still rather groggy from being knocked unconscious two times in one day. I see the debris of the helicopter, half of it on fire. No sign of the other crew yet. The ground is covered with snow, and the dense, sickening storm is severely limiting visibility to about 20 feet away.
I also see...not my left leg. Hmm, that's odd. I see my right leg, but not my left. That could only mean...
Oh.
Oh shit.
Ooohhh, shit.
Oh, shit shit shiit.
My left leg's gone. Like, completely gone. So gone, in fact, that if someone looked at the gone-ness of my leg they'd say, "holy shit dude, get your stuff together. Stop monologuing to yourself, you dumbass, or you're going to bleed out." ...Maybe I should listen.
Blood quickly flows out of what's left of my leg, and I scramble up onto my...foot..., half-hopping half-crawling to the debris of the helicopter, desperately digging around to find the first aid kit that should've been stored in the vehicle.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, c'mon, it's gotta be here somewhere..!"
I can only move around so many sheets of metal before fatigue begins to set in, mostly from my lack of blood. I only have energy to lift up what seems to be the reminants of the side door.
"Oh, please, please just be here..." I plead to...no one, really, but regardless I lift up the door and find...
Nothing.
"Surely, there has to be something that'll stop the bleeding-"
Suddenly, something red-orange catches my eye. A flare gun. Welp, it's my only hope, I suppose. I crawl over to the gun, point it into the air, and squeeze the trigger. Thankfully, it was loaded, and a huge crack emits from the barrel, as well as the brightly-colored flare, which soars high into the sky, shining a light that can be seen for miles around.
"Hopefully it'll catch the eyes of someone who's feeling rather charitable today..." is the last thought that runs through my mind before I collapse to the ground, my consciousness fading once more.64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8njCA80lQX
