Gunnar and Faust

Started by Killabreu, 26-07-2010

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(Work in progress.) I felt like writing a little story. It is now...7:10 AM EST. I've not gone to sleep yet, and creative juices are flowing thanks to reading a bit of Paintcheck's PDA logs. <3, bro. A little backstory thing for one of my current characters.

A wind blows, leaves rustling against each other. A storm is coming, lightning splitting clouds in the distance. Two men sit in a clearing, one searching through a dead man's pockets, his sawed off shotgun dangling in his free hand.

"You know, the next time we set a trap like that, remember that I'm on YOUR side, Gunnar," a man in a ragged jacket says. He speaks in German the entire time, and wears a simple hooded jacket, as well as blue jeans. He is changing a bandage that barely has any blood on it.

"Stop being such a pussy about it, little brother," an older, more baritone voice replies, continuing the conversation in German. He continues to rummage through the dead man's pack. "Damn. Another shit-haul," the man grumbles, and he tucks the shotgun into a shoddy hand-made holster on his thigh. He holds up a roll of bills. "We got this, at least," he weighs the roll, "Not too much, though. Ah, well."

The man on the ground finishes tightening his bandages, and slides his pants leg down, covering it. He picks up a small .22 calibre pistol from the ground, and looks it over. "Why do you get the damn hand-cannon, and I get this little piece of crap?"

"I'm the older brother. I'm bigger than you, stronger than you, and better than you. That is why, "Faust". God, that is such a stupid name to pick. Of all things, why would you pick that? I mean, why not 'Skullsmasher' or something like that?" The older brother is staring at his younger brother, Faust, "I mean, shit. I know you came here to get away from the gang, but...jeezus. I don't even know why I came along, to be honest. Guess I wanted to see what all this shit was about." He motions with his arms to the sky, and then keeps jabbering, not allowing Faust to answer.

Yelling is heard in the distance, and both men stop moving entirely, holding their breaths. They both slowly lower themselves to the ground after locking eyes.

The older brother began signing to his younger brother, "I heard one. Possibly two. Keep low, stay together. We're leaving the stiff."

Another flash of light, shortly followed by a thunderclap. The clearing is empty again, with the exclusion of a dead man and his pack.

We return to the two brothers. Now they going from the Cordon towards the garbage. They pass through a gatehouse filled with STALKERs who are acting as guards. As they maneuver through the line of wrecked cars, men move through the underbrush alongside the road quietly. One man with a vest on, a hat tipped forwards, and a pistol stands in the middle of the road.

"Like I was saying, man, the tits on this girl back home were ENORMOUS, I mean, Christ. I could have used them as PILLOWS," Gunnar says to Faust, his backpack hanging loosely on one shoulder. He's swaggering only a few steps ahead of Faust, sawed-off shotgun tucked into it's holster.

"I don't wanna hear about your first damn crush, Gun'," Faust says jokingly. They both laugh, and stop in their tracks as they see the man sitting in the middle of the road. They both stare, unsure of what to make of him. Faust tightens his grip on the tiny .22 pistol, and Gunnar's hand slowly creeps down to the shotgun.

The man tips his hat back, revealing his face over dramatically. He is grizzly, and middle-aged. He simply smiles, a lit cigarette between his lips. His gun hand trembles, a simple metal band on his finger knocking against the pistol, making loud clicking and clacking sounds. A lazy wind blows through the area, the tall grass on the side of the road rustling against the hidden men, as well as each other.

Finally, the man seems to compose himself, and flexes his finger on the pistol at his side, which hangs idly. "You two have caused a good many people to become poor and desolate. Even more so than they were when they had come here. I've seen you. We've seen y--"

Before the man can finish, a sniper round slams through his skull, and plants itself into the truck the brothers had been in front of. It passes within inches of Faust's own head.

Both brothers drop to the ground, and the sound of a man gurgling is heard to the right. Then a muffled cry to the left. A second later, the concussive sound of a shotgun is heard, coupled with the wet sound of brain matter hitting concrete. They cover the back of their heads, though they know not from what. A pistol fires sharply to the left, and  the sound of a man groaning is heard to the right. Blood seeps from the bushes, and onto the concrete. A second later, a cracking sound of metal on flesh breaking bones. The brothers keep their faces to the concrete.

Soon, footsteps are heard. First, just a single pair. Then, more join in, creating a symphony of thuds. They stop, and a group of men wearing balaclavas and simple suits stands over the brothers. They slowly and simultaneously look up. The men simply stare, their weapons stowed away now. The brothers get to their feet.

"Thank you so mu--," Gunnar starts, and is cut off with a shotgun barrel being placed against his chin. He freezes, and tightens up, blinking a few times and begins to breathe through his nose heavily. Faust simply stares, unsure of what to do. Then the man who seems to be in charge begins to speak..

"Were they the only ones who knew you were robbing people?" his voice is slow, deep, and even rhythmic at times. Faust and Gunnar nod quickly. A thin smile cracks across the man's face, "Good. We have a use for you two, then." A stock cracks across both their faces, and they slump into each other, and hit the ground, unconscious.

SRP Characters:
Callsign "Faust" - Loner.
Callsign "Eastwood" - American trader.
Roger McMillan - Ex-RIRA. Ex-DUTY. Mercenary.


This is nice for a start story keep 'em coming.



Nice story. now don't spam the link in TS again :D
|HGN-STSA| Doomburger: Kay, bend over under that guillotine.
|HGN-STSA| Doomburger: ...
|HGN-STSA| Doomburger: Wait.
Sharrock: Homo
|HGN-STSA| Doomburger: Fuck.

Tom: Look at the roster
Doomburger: "110th Regiment Blood Company Reaper Squad Roster
Started by Doomburger"
Doomburger: get my name off
Doomburger: I beg you
Doomburger: I may have done some ridiculous things, but come on


Updated with a new segment. The brothers are heading to the bar, and have to go through bandit territory. Only bad things could ensue.

SRP Characters:
Callsign "Faust" - Loner.
Callsign "Eastwood" - American trader.
Roger McMillan - Ex-RIRA. Ex-DUTY. Mercenary.


Cool story bro, i should do this for some of my chars.
Quote from: TheAndyShandy on 05-12-2013
Oh boy.
Strap yourselves in, it's time for the great 'obligatory' SRP resurrection of 2013/14/15/16/22


(Reviving because I feel like writing more. But I'm going to just summarize a bit of what has happened from then to now.)

The brothers had worked with the bandits for quite some time. Between raiding STALKER camps and harassing the Military with attacks on patrols, they had established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. During a raid just a few months after their forced indoctrination, Gunnar was killed during a raid on a camp. He died slowly and painfully due to an infection that set in from the bullet wound he received. Faust mourned him, and moved on. He eventually became highly-respected in the group, having learned how to work with explosives, taught by a man in the group. Of course, it wasn't formal training of any sort, but after a while, Faust was able to determine how much he would need to cause a certain effect. These were his golden days.

A great amount of unease has settled in at the bandit camp. Brown Bear, the leader of the group, is sitting at a desk made up of two barrels and a rotting piece of wood, with an equally makeshift chair. He kneads his temples in frustration, staring down at his PDA. A map illuminates the screen, his face colored both green from his PDA, and a soft orange from the stump of a candle on his desk. A group of men, with military-grade weaponry and suits file in, followed by a woman. The group forms a semi-circle around the desk, the woman to the left of Faust. Brown Bear looks up, eyes scanning each of their faces, eyes expecting of some sort of report. Finally, he speaks.

"Well? What have you found out," he says as he reclines carefully in the seat. It groans as the weight shifts onto the back legs. He folds his arms across his chest. For a moment, nobody speaks. Then, a lieutenant in the gang speaks up.

"Well, Bear, we took a few hits afterwards. We won't be seeing that poor bastard Vasilik the same way anymore," the man says. Nearly everyone in the group looks down, contemplating that poor bastard Vasilik. "However, Faust was able to get everything in place. Once he got out of range, he detonated it. Took half the damned house down, but the guys who did live were able to hold us off. I mean, it was only Cricket, Faust, Vasilik, Viktor, and myself. When we opened fire, the outside sentries opened up. Somehow, a round grazed the top of Vasilik's shoulder. He was fine, until he poked his head up to yell, "Try again, assholes." He didn't get to finish his sentence. He got brained," the man finishes, wiping the bottom of his nose with his finger.

The leader leans back forwards, putting his elbows on his scrapyard desk, "So, we didn't get any loot from the camp, only killed about half of them, and lost a man. You know, if this were a full country against country war, that would have been a successful mission. However, we need the gear. We need LIVING men. NOT dead ones," Brown Bear exclaims, slamming a fist on the desk, which buckles inwards slightly. He lets out an exasperated sigh, taking his PDA off of the table. The entire semi-circle cringes simultaneously, and starts to back up a bit. Brown Bear had a very short fuse, and he had brought Vasilik into the group himself. They all knew what was about to happen- especially the lieutenant.....(to be continued tomorrow.)

SRP Characters:
Callsign "Faust" - Loner.
Callsign "Eastwood" - American trader.
Roger McMillan - Ex-RIRA. Ex-DUTY. Mercenary.


Glad your still updateing this, Faust was one of my favorites chars you had back in the day.


Yeah, I got bored. Was in a semi-artsy mood so I decided I'd do some character stuff. Might drop it for now, and work on some of my other characters. Like Eastwood, Red, Lubov, or even Blasphemy, everyone's favorite tooth-hunting maniac.

SRP Characters:
Callsign "Faust" - Loner.
Callsign "Eastwood" - American trader.
Roger McMillan - Ex-RIRA. Ex-DUTY. Mercenary.