//------------------------------//
// Rebuilding 
// Story: The Survivor 
// by Chemtest 
//------------------------------//

I feel myself fall onto some soft grass. The mask is still on my face, and I seem to be heavier than I was before.

I look at my body, and see the cause of the new weight. My old, black trench coat firmly buttoned and zippered. I never got to wear this thing much, seeing as Florida rarely gets cold, but I still had it. It seems to be lighter than it should be, the thing feeling like a backpack for your entire body before.

I open up my coat, and looks at the metal chain within. I reach in and touch it, surprised to feel real metal in response. It seems as if my costume has been made into real armor.

My legs seem to be covered by some dark jeans, a pair that I don’t remember owning. And my feet seem to be encased in some black military boots that I definitely do not own. Both seem to fit me perfectly and comfortably, making it so it feels like I’m wearing almost nothing.

I look on the ground around me, and see a sheet of paper. I stand up, only to have some stuff get in the way. I reach to my waist, only for my hand to hit against something. I look at my hand, only to see a dark glove on over it, yet one that doesn’t seem to limit my flexibility.

I pull out the thing my hand hit against, only to have it revealed that it is my civil war revolver. I try to flick out the side, but the chamber doesn’t come out. So, I decide to pull the trigger. Doing that reveals to me that this is a real gun, as I can tell by the new dent in a nearby tree.

I return it to it’s holster, and reach for the sheathe on the other side of my waist. I pull on the handle of the object within, and draw a knife from within. I look at it in surprise, for the blade seems to glow in the light, yet it is obviously the wooden one I bought. A Bowie knife, and it seems to be very, very sharp.

I put it back, and reach to my back. My hand hits against a hilt, and I draw whatever it is. Within my hands now is a four foot long sword. I swing it around, and it takes barely any effort. I smile, and put it back into it’s sheathe on my back.

I move my hand next to it, and grab one of two weapons slinged against my back. It looks like the silenced repeater the guy handed me. It also seems not to weigh that much as well.

I move to the final weapon, and draw a MP40. I look at it, and see that it is also like the one I had back at home. Only this isn’t airsoft, this is a real gun.

I put it back, and pick up the paper on the ground. I give it a look, and read.

’MP40: Autogenerating ammo. Fourty bullets per day. No recoil, no weight, no need to reload.

Repeater: Infinite ammo, makes absolutely no noise, no recoil, and no weight. Still have to lever, but not reload.

Chain: Mithrel, magic resistant, weightless. 

Coat/boots/gloves/pants: Repair automatically, weightless, and will adapt to wearer.

Sword/knife: Mithrel, weightless to user, sharpened at all times.

Revolver: Infinite ammo, no recoil, weightless. Cannot be reloaded, doesn’t need to be reloaded.

Mask: Unbreakable, sharp, able to produce cures, able to switch lenses, able to make any air fresh and breathable.’

I look in the forest around me, and think.

I am obviously on a planet other than Earth, made obvious by fact that there is still plant life.

This is also a planet with animals on it, as is made clear by the chirping of birds and the rustles of the bushes. However, intelligent life is not a certainty.

Anyway, I need to think about the here and now. If there is intelligent life, then I have no idea how far away it is. If there isn’t, then I have to survive alone. The solution is the same for both.

I draw my sword, and walk towards the tree.

Time to put my Boy Scout years to use.

However, as I walk over to the tree, I notice something else. I do not have on my glasses, and I can still see perfectly. However, I then also notice the glass lenses within my new mask. The mask probably, somehow, has my prescription lenses in it.

I smile, and raise my sword near the tree. It is then that my mask decides to switch it’s lenses. 

Now, a few spots start to glow all over the tree, and I assume that they are weak spots.

It seems I am right as the tree falls after only a few stabs and cuts.

I take my sword, and cut it up, perfect for a lean-to. 

We actually went on a field trip in elementary school, and learned how to build shelters. Now, when my group made ours, we didn’t do a predictable lean-to. We were one of the three groups who built something different. This was a type of... well, logs hanging from a tree with leaves patching the parts in between. There was enough space for three people, and even if we would have slept sitting up on the ground, we still would have been dry. But the point is, I learned how to make a lean-to from that.

My mask switches lenses, picking up on my intentions. It highlights spots on the ground for me to put logs in order to get the best shelter.

So, I listen to the mask’s advice, and end up making a serviceable shelter for one big boy.

I smile and stand back, admiring my hard work. I am interrupted, however, by growling from behind me.

I grab the revolver from my side, and level it at the woods as I spin around. I see a wooden wolf emerge from the wilderness, glaring not at me, but at my shelter. I quickly connect the dots, and realize it probably didn’t like me chopping down the tree, considering the fact that it is made out of wood. 

I set the lever on my revolver, and my mask switches lenses once more. Now, my vision seems to be filled with a type of aimbot, telling me exactly where to aim for different effects. At the same time, it seems like the mask injects my mind with knowledge on the revolver.

I’ve not shot many guns, but now I feel like an expert on all the ones I carry. I feel every gear and pin within the three guns, and I know how to operate each with maximum efficiency.

Paired with my sword and knife skills, this makes me proficient with all my weapons.

I aim at the wolf, and speak a warning, “Stay back or I will make you.”

The wolf looks at me, growls, and tries to charge me. I shoot it in the leg, causing it to stop right in front of me.

I move my revolver down, right against it’s head, “Back off.”

It lunges at me, knocking my revolver aside. It pounces on me, and I can barely keep it back with my arm. As it tries to chew through my chain, I grab the knife from my side. I stab it into the wolf’s neck, and it collapses down.

I stand as the wolf collapses into a pile of sticks, and pick up my fallen revolver.

I decide to gather all the sticks in the middle of my camp, and place a wheel of stones around it.

I pulls out the revolver, stick it into the pile, and fire. The sparks barely catch the sticks, causing it to go up in flames.

I smile and flip my revolver back into it’s holster.

I sit down, ready to enjoy the warm fire.

But I am interrupted by the sounds of howling, and of children screaming.

I look into the distance, and my mask switches lenses once more. I see the sounds made in the distance, and it allows me to hear three sets of feet running from a pack of wolves.

I draw my revolver, and rush into the forest after them.