Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

A small cabin sat in the dense woods next to a large river. It was dark. Crickets were out and singing their songs in nature. A single candle flickered inside the cabin. The candle illuminated a single corner of the small space.

In the cabin was a man. He sat in a darkened corner, away from the single light source. He was tall and muscular. Sweat gleamed from his short cropped brown hair. A cigarette hung loosely from his chapped lips.

"I could have saved them."

The emotion in his voice was real. He sounded like a man who had lost everything.

"If I hadn't ordered them to….…" he started to say as the ash fell onto his chest.

"They'd still be here and I wouldn't be here right now." He cried.

"No! I won't shut up about it! You wouldn't know what it was like!" He said as if he were talking to someone.

"What the fuck do you mean? You've never had to worry about going outside to take a piss! I have! I lost a brother to a sniper." He yelled.

"I said Shut up!" He said as another ash fell to his chest. He didn't flinch but threw a bottle across the room. It hit the wall and shattered.

This man was alone and had been for quite some time. This cabin was all that he had left in his life.

"You left me when I needed you the most. He whimpered.

He held a small picture of a beautiful woman. She had honey blonde hair with blue eyes and pink lips. She was truly a sight to behold.

A tear fell down his cheek.

"Stop fucking talking! It's my turn now! You left me. I'm….I'm sorry. I love you. I didn't mean it...I'm...sorry."

Chapter 2:

The sun sat high in a cloudless sky. Birds chippered in the air as they flew from place to place. The sounds of the scurrying of small animals filled the air as a pounding sound echoed through the woods.

He was outside now, chopping wood for a fireplace that wasn't there as the cabin didn't have one. Sweat poured from his face. It was hot out. The sun had just risen and it was already unbearably hot out.

He seemed normal , or at least appeared to be so. Whereas the night before he was crying and yelling, now he was chopping wood with a rusty hatchet. He had a determined look upon his unshaven face.

"If this is my penance for costing you your lives then so be it. The corps made us stronger than most". He whispered to himself.

He picked up a few logs and put them on a small fire. Smoke filled the air as the wood wasn't dry yet and wouldn't be for some time. After all, the Louisiana bayou was a very humid place. He picked up what had to be a small squirrel from the ground and threw it into the fire.

This man was Chase Blackley, a decorated Marine. He'd seen more death in a few years than most would see in their entire lives. The only thing he'd ever been good at was war. That's how he got his nickname. The Boogeyman. During war, he was focused on the mission and would do anything to bring back his brothers. No man was ever left behind.

But war and battle was never his problem. His PTSD was. He'd led his troops down a mountain road in Afghanistan. He was the only survivor. They were ambushed on that road. A roadside bomb decimated his troops. The few who survived the blast fought but ultimately died. He carried the bodies back to base. One by one. Being the lone survivor was hard on him. He'd seen his brothers be blown up and shot to peices. He'd seen their families at each memorial service. He'd felt their greef. He'd felt their anguish. He hated himself for it. He blamed himself.

Chase checked his meal. It was charred and ready so he pulled it from the fire and took a bite. He'd never liked squirrel.

Chapter 3

Chase darted up from his sleeping position on the floor of the cabin. He'd seen bombs going off. He heard them. He felt the concussions from the explosions. He reached for his hatchet but the sounds stopped. He pounded his head.

"Get out!" He yelled.

Chase hadn't slept in days, months even. Each time he closed his eyes he saw their faces. He saw Private Smith exploding into pieces. He saw Private Dunham's head explode from the shell of an ak47. He saw their twisted bodies littering the hard ground.

He sat there curled up in a ball, shivering and pounding his head on the hard floor.

"Please! Make it stop. Please." He cried.

Hed been married once. They were highschool sweet hearts and childhood friends. Her name was Jessica and she was his whole world. He was hers. They belonged together. But sometimes things change. Nothing ever stays the same. This is especially true for soldiers wives and the soldiers themselves. She'd begged him to get help, but Marines are built tough. He refused. He thought he was fine. He wasn't.

He sat up and reached over to grab a cigarette. He quickly lit it and took a long draw.

"Let them come." He said matter of factly.

Chapter Four:

Chase Blackley sat under a tree. Sweat poured from his short cropped black hair down to his tattooed chest. He held a bow with an arrow notched. He was hunting but his what his prey was could be anyone's guess.

"The Bane?" He said with a sigh.

"You know, I've seen your type a thousand times.vlYou feed off of the fear of others. You put on an act as if it makes you better, giving yourself names that sound like doom to all others. I have to be honest with you. That isn't me. If you try to strike fear into me, you'll fail. Don't get me wrong. I do fear things. After all, if you aren't scared, you're aren't alive. Fear is a natural part of life. But I don't fear any man. You should know that. I've seen things in my time that would make someone like you shit yourself over and over again. I've lived actual wars. Let me ask you something. Have you ever watched a friend take his last breathe? See the light leave his eyes? I mean a true friend. I have." Chase said with a laugh.

He eyes something in the distance. For a moment his eyes glazed over. His skin went white and his breathing became ragged. It quickly faded and he was smiling once more.

"To be quite honest, after watch a few of your matches, I'm convinced you're simply weak minded. You can't do much physically, so you try and scare opponents through random acts that probably come from random low budget horror movies. I've seen your type everywhere I've ever been deployed. You're no different than the warlords in the middle east. You do things that you think gives you power. But it only takes one man to start the revolution against you. Just one." He added with a sigh.

"It was one of those cowards who designated me as the Boogeyman. They said I'd do anything to accomplish my goal. I'd never back down in retreat. I'd never question my orders. The truth is...I just wanted to bring my guys back. And it was those same cowards who ultimately caused everything to fall apart. And it's for that reason I'll be showing Bane what a true warrior is. A true warrior fights his own battles. He doesn't punk out and order others into danger. No. He's the first in and the last out. He doesn't back down from a fight. The odds are greatly stacked against him. Do not question that last fact. The odds are greatly stacked against him. So much that he has very little chance of survival. This is likely to be his last as I take no prisoners. I end my enemies. Bane is an enemy in more than one way. To start, he's my opponent. My job is to destroy him for the entertainment of those who paid to watch adults beat each other lifeless. Secondly, I simply hate those of his ilk." Chase said before lighting a cigarette.

He took a long draw. He knew it was a bad idea as it would scare off any prey on the area. Maybe he wasn't hunting for food. Only he really knew.

"It doesn't matter. My job is to win. The end will be the same. He gets broken. You see.. my ultimate goal is him. I'll go through whoever I have to go through to get to him. He can throw his entire army at me. It won't matter. It never matters. I always get my enemy. They don't call me Boogeyman for nothing. I live for this shit. The only thing I've ever been good at in this life is battle. Killing. Maiming. Destruction. Those are the only things ive ever been good at. Fuck. I stayed a staff sergeant so that I could be kept on an active battlefield. In the past that was the desert. Now it's a ring. The place of battle changes but the mission doesn't. Destroy your enemies and survive. Nothing more. Nothing less. Do whatever it takes to bring the boys home and back to their families. This time it's you Bane. And like all others I've faced in my life, you'll fall. Not with a great roar of defiance. But with a whimper." Chase said with a wide grin.

Chapter five:

Chase sat under that same tree. It was getting dark out. The sun was quickly sinking and the creatures of night were beginning to wake. The loud chirping of crickets and frogs echoed throughout the dense woods. The arrow was still notched. His skin was white. His eyes were glazed over yet seemed focused on something in the distance.

"They're here. I fucking knew it." Andrew said, his face blank and showing no emotion.

He lifted the bow and fired an arrow. It lodged itself into a tree about fifty yards away.

"That's one down. No telling how many more." He whispered to himself.

He took cover under a falling log after running a few yards. He notched another arrow from the bag strapped to his back

"Fucking lasers." He said with a deep breathe.

He popped up and fired off another arrow. It sailed off into the distance before falling to the ground.

"Shit." Said to himself before running to a tree on his left.

Then something changed. His eyes focused once more. The glazed over look went away. Andrew put his head down and sighed

"Fuck. I do need help. Maybe I should have listened to her…." He said with a sigh.

Sitting at a table, coffee steaming in front of her sat a gorgeous blonde haired woman. She wore a white, lace nightgown. Her glasses hung down on her nose. She was truly a beautiful woman as the honey blonde hair brought out the emerald green color of her eyes. She appeared worried and stared out of the window into a darkened back yard.

"Where are you?" She said.

To be continued.