Rape is perfectly acceptable for me, I'm Muslim

  "Well, that could have gone a bit better." The man said, jumping out of the crumpled wreck he had piloted. Staring at the twisted blue and grey metal that was once his Gorefang-class fighter jet.

"Well I'm pretty screwed aren't I? No idea where I am, or when for that matter." He prattled on, his neck craning back to survey the skyline.

"Right, let's see...let's see...Well they set off the distortion bomb, and the fact I'm alive means I'm NOT dead."


The man walked closer to the wreckage, despite the landing the automated systems had tried their hardest to ensure a relatively 'smooth landing'. The Gorefang sat in it's impact crater, the man inspecting it and coming to the conclusion it wouldn't be flying anytime soon. Climbing back into the cockpit he tried to reboot the system, in hopes that the flight recorder would give him some idea of his location. Flicking a few switches on the control console and slapping it a few times, the main systems powered on, a small smile crossing the man's face.

"Well first thing's first, let's get a run down of the systems, the front end looks like a pack of midgets with anger problems and sledge hammers went to town, so I doubt I'll be flying you home Galient." The man said to the silent machine, scanning it's readout panels.

"WHELP...Hover jets are gone on the legs, so skating is out of the question, I could try to find a town and walk there. Would beat standing next to a potential roiling fireball." He said as he grabbed the controls, strumming his fingers against the control stick as the left hand tapped a few lines into the console.


  The Gorefang's frame creaked and groaned as it tried to rise, the banged up mass of steel and circuitry rose off the ground. The illusion of the Gorefang being a normal jet shattered as the plane stood up to reveal two reverse joint legs that strained to move. As the machine stood up the man looked over the console, ignoring the red warning lights going off indicating structural failure in parts of the fighter with an eye roll and dismissive mutterings. With the machine finally standing he punched in several more commands before with the controls inside the cockpit to test the machine's limits. His probing of the damage was rewarded with more metallic groans and hissing as the fighter seemed to walk forward drunkenly.

"Balancer is busted, still works... but barely." The man said to himself, "I'm gonna have to take this slow, good news is I'm not in too thick a forest where I can't take two steps without bumping into a tree."

 As the machine continued it's slow staggering walk, the man felt off. Reaching up towards his head he realized he had forgotten his helmet back at the crash site, shrugging it off as he remembered the faceplate was cracked,useless to him in the state it was in. Looking at the radar panel he realized there were no contacts in the area, neither friendly or hostile. Again however he shrugged it off, his only concern was finding civilization first and worrying about linking back up with his outfit at a later time. His eyes shifted over to the time which read 15:14.

In a double take he glanced back at the panel, "It can't be 3 in the afternoon, the sun looks like it's bloody well on it's way to setting." He thought to himself, again mentally writing the malfunctioning clock off as part of the damaged machine.

"Screw it I'll go for a few more hours and set up camp then." he thought to himself as the Gorefang continued it's trek through the unknown land.

  As the sun began to dip lower over the horizon, the man stopped the crippled fighter, the frame letting out another chorus of groans and shudders as he brought it to a halt. The machine bent forward slightly, lowering itself to the ground as the man stood up and started to leave the cockpit, his feet gingerly feeling around for a hold in the side of the machine, that even at it's current posture towered over him like a steel giant. Working his way to the rear of the fighter he scanned the back, eyes straining till he found a seam line in the smooth metal just between the rear fins.  Pressing down on the seam, it flipped up to reveal a small number pad, again his fingers quickly working over the pad and hitting a rectangular green button that lay on the bottom of the keypad. With a click, hiss, and a pop the hatch popped open to reveal an orange duffel bag with white lettering that spelled EMERGENCY along the either side. Setting it down he opened it, checking the contents for damage.

  The man rummaged through the bag, noting the contents, "righto...Flares...Some blankets...Oh hey a repair kit, that will come in handy, maybe I'll be able to get over the tree line tomorrow...Well most of the crap in here is safe, guess that's a good point for landing face first instead of ass first into the dirt." He said, his hands clasping together in affirmation.

"I'm sleeping in the cockpit though, never mind sleeping on the ground where stuff will crawl over me." He continued on, head quickly shaking back and forth trying to purge what seemed like an unpleasant thought that had popped into his head at that spoken aloud sentence.

"Forget it, I need to find stuff to make a fire, should keep any nocturnal critters away from me at the very least." He thought aloud, stamping the earth beneath his foot flatter as he tapped it.

  The man wandered the perimeter of his camp, grabbing what materials he could for a fire.