Originated from the heart of Russia, we were once a tight pack formed as a colony. Raised by the ‘Canis lupus communis’ pack. They taught us how to feed, how to fight and most importantly how to survive. It was crazy to be honest, how we actually made it through. There was one problem, people were known to attack our pack and hunt us down. We couldn’t do anything to defend ourselves as we had nothing to use to protect our well being. A month passed, we tried and tried until we couldn’t try anymore. Why? Why couldn’t we do anything you ask? Well after a few months passed only two survivors were left. These champions were known as Carlos, the leader of the human side of the pack, and Jack Soprano, the main fighter and supplier for food and equipment.
They tried all they could to make sure that the legacy of the ‘Canis lupus communis’ pack will be able to carry on, hopefully, recruit some new members to the pack in order to live on their old lives and remain in triumph for the rest of the reign in Russia. Another problem started to exist. Since their pack left them, they had less protection, and by less protection, it meant that they were vulnerable. The only way to escape was by fleeing to another part of the world where hopefully they wouldn’t be found by their hunters. We took a raft to sea and were afloat for weeks, months maybe. All of our supplies was taken with us and was carefully placed out. There were many places we could have set foot on, although we knew that if we were to start adapting to an environment with a population much higher than where we came from, there would have been a 0% of our survival.
We stumbled across a small island known as Stratis. It looked amazing, paradise even. What a great place we found. It then started to come back to us, there was no way we could feed here, nothing to do, nothing to buy. It was only us two on this island. We had to think of something so that we could find somewhere better that could give us more of an opportunity in our lives in order to make it a better one that we were already living. No need for the ‘Old Life’ at this point, as in our old life we were struggling, we were finding it hard to cope, and the only way we could make it was because of our pack. Without our pack we had nothing, so we had to find a place where we could adapt to, where we could make a living, and survive.
An island nearby. ‘Altis’ they called it. Many people have houses there, military helicopters, weapons and much better equipment that we could never think
about owning ever. How would we be able to get through this? We weren’t going to abide by this so-called ‘Law’ that was put in place for us to abide by, would we? We had to take control of this small island, it shouldn’t be so hard, we thought. We started with the basics of earning money. Buying a truck, putting stuff in the truck, selling the stuff. Pretty simple. But… we weren’t the only bad people here. We stumbled upon a gang known as the messengers. We found them on our turf, selling the items that only we should be selling, trying to ruin our business. No. We weren’t going to have it. Day by day passed, thinking of a plan. Then it happened. They fell into our trap. We set up at next to our buyer, and as soon as they pulled up in their fancy helicopters, with their fancy guns.. it was all over for them. We took it all, sold their helicopters in the local black market shop, and used all that money for recruiting fellow members to join our pack, our family, our vengeance for what we had to go through. There was always a feeling in my brain which made me think about what life would have been like if we were to never would have been ambushed … never would have been attacked in the first place and just let us live life how we were.
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