Rambo The Fluffy Hunter pt1
John Rambo The III was content in life. He came from a decorated military family. His father, and his fathers father were both special ops to the highest degree and that made him proud. The apple didn’t fall far. He couldn’t even remember when he became obsessed with being a green beret.
Perhaps it was seeing his father return in uniform? The military games he played growing up? Even as a child, manhunt was his favorite game. And he was DAMN good at it. He passed his batteries with flying colors. He was granted a full ride to WestPoint academy.
His grandfather was staunchly against it, never saying why. But when Rambo was promoted to a captain in the green berets, he was granted security clearance to the redacted records regarding a John Rambo the fist of Baker team and started to understand the cost sometimes inflicted of being an elite soldier.
John didn’t let it get to him too much. He would do his time in the military, do it right and get out. And that’s exactly what he did. Even secretly awarded a medal of honor for completing a series of top secret missions related to a broken arrow incident, the details of which forbidden to anyone but a select few at the top brass.
Nonetheless John kept his promise to himself and returned to civilian life when his service was complete. He had done a lot of good, but he also knew if he kept working, he would eventually start being ordered to do some not-so-good.
First thing when he got out, John built his own house on a dirt cheap piece of property on the outskirts of his home town. So John the civilian now made his living as a hunter. His skill set was just suited for it. Boars, coyotes, deer, and any other large enough mammal that devastated crops. Money was meager per pelt, but that just meant he had to root out enough of them to make a living.
Despite not making much, John did quite alright for himself. A master in survival and hunting, he didn’t need much to thrive. He had spent only 30 dollars on food in the last year, and it was at a diner in town. His food came fresh from his hunts, foraged, and recently vegetables given to him at great discount by very grateful farmers. When you help out farmers, you won’t go hungry.
His expenses and luxuries alike were nearly nonexistent. Despite this lack of luxury, John found great satisfaction in his life. When Cleveland fell, a refugee crisis that destabilized many surrounding states and the ripples were felt by the whole country.
Now he had a clear purpose even the military didn’t grant him, with direct evidence of the good he did in front of him. Deeply intune with nature, it helped keep him stable. And in balancing the eco system, john felt great satisfaction with his work. He didn’t regret his time in the military by any stretch, but he killing his fellow man didn’t quite fell as good even if it did some good. When it comes to following orders, thats not always the case. He realized it would break him if one day he crossed that line, for no gain.
Being able to use those skills, to be the weapon he honed himself into for a more pure purpose with nature. That was where true fulfillment lied. A small part of him did miss not being able to FULLY employ his skills. But he was done killing people for other people, there were plenty of others who could take his place there.
Yes, this quiet life was more than good enough for him. While appealing when he was younger, he was done with the formality of the military. Very happy he would never have to see one of his superiors. Having returned to his humble abode, he began chopping fire wood. Barley splitting 3 logs before he heard it.
chuf-chuf-chuf-chUF-CHUF-CHUF-CHUF-CHUF-CHUF-CHUF-CHUF
Cursing to himself, John didnt even need to look up to know it was a MH-6 Little Bird Attack Helicopter. A classic support vehicle occasionally used for small scale operations by a few military branches, in this case it was the green berets.
“Christ, what the hell do they want? Do they not know what retired means?”
He watched as the helicopter descended on his large grassy property. Scaring away the birds of prey his tannery tended to attract. It landed with a harsh bump and before the blades even stopped spinning, Col. Stryker had stepped out with his hands behind his back. Bone rigid with a serious look on his face.
“Greetings captain, they said you lived out here. I had to see it to believe it… Whats with that look on your face? No salute for a superior?”
“I’m no captain anymore Stryker, and you’re not my superior. Whatever it is you want from me, you can get back in that helicopter and fly away. I’m done killing men.”
With that Rambo turned back to his firewood and split another log, using a lot more force than he needed to. To his credit, the Col. didn’t even flinch.
“Im not here to ask you to return to the military Rambo. Of course I wish you would, but I respect your wishes. You’re a hero Rambo even if the world wont know it.”
Rambo paused his axe, before he brought it down again even harder and embedding it into the stump, turning to Stryker he gruffly uttered,
“So you fueled up an attack helicopter just to visit?”
“Of course not, you know I’ve never been that good of a friend. No, We need you as a private contractor. For your civilian hunting services. You specialize in crops no?”
For the first time since he saw the helicopter, Rambo let out a genuine smile and chuckled.
“You’re kidding? The US military needs me to protect their potatos from gophers? I’m sure the military has access to pest control”
The Col. didn’t even smirk. Instead he threw down a thick dossier at Rambos feet.
“Its not a joke Rambo, our nation is on its knees right now and you’re the best man for the job. Our crops are being devastated and we cant let it get out how bad things are getting. Its a matter of nation security. If rival nations find out how bad this is, they will surely take advantage of it.”
Rambo was now quite curious, he picked up the dossier and started to look at it. Satellite images of what was clearly American farmland, but it was as if a sea of technicolor had slowly started to overtake it. With nothing but ecological disaster in its wake. Turning amber grains to a sepia dead hue.
“Fluffies…a mega herd…There hasn’t been one of those since Cleveland.” Rambo quietly said out loud while studying and flipping through the images.
He could make out the parallel lines of fluffies in a few columns, as if they were… running supplies down the herd? Colorful dots on the edges of the herd, scouting sentries perhaps? and upon looking closer he saw behind the herd were brown dots mixed in with the excrement and dead land.
“Yes that’s right, and we need those fluffies stopped asap, and above all, we need to do it secretly, WITHOUT alerting the general population. We’ve already had to open our reserve grain stores and if the people find out how fragile our food supply is, they WILL panic buy us directly into shortages which will quickly send us into true famine.”
Rambo noted the progression of the photos, in 2 days they consumed an entire farm? His eyes caught a figure that said 100,000?!
“100,000? Thats a tall order” Rambo mumbled. At that point a serious looking figure in a white labcoat stepped out of the helicopter.
This is Dr Aurora. She is the leading fluffy expert in our employ. She’s gonna bring you up to speed on how these things think, what motivates them. Youre going to need all the intel you can get. And yes you read right, it’s estimated this herd contains at least 100,000 fluffies, and with all the food available to them, its projected to double by the end of the month"
“Hold on, I never said I would do it.”
“You don’t have to Rambo. I know you care about this nation, you’ll do the right thing. I know sometimes we don’t and that drove you away, but there’s no gray area here Rambo. If this goes too far, first there will be famine, and then there will be war. 1 month Rambo, thats all we have” Stryker said with a grim tone.
Without another word he turned around and got into the helicopter and flew away. Rambo sighed watching it disappear into the distance. Stryker was right. The military just gave him a contract to do what he was born to do. If the col. was even being half truthful, he had no reason to decline. He turned to Dr. Aurora who had been staring at him, patiently waiting.
“Dr. Aurora is it? Come inside, I need to know how these things think. I’m not totally ignorant but I’ve never had to deal with them personally.”
Dr. Aurora nodded and followed him inside. She knew how important this job was and was. It was her who wrote the report, and she had personally suggested they use airstrikes asap, but that would lead to wildfires, and the collateral would be devastating to the farmland and above all, the entire world would know of it. The secretary of defense rejected the proposal personally.
She clenched her teeth tight. When Cleveland fell, she had lost her parents. As a young girl the idea of fluffies was wonderful, but after that event… She swore she would study those wretched THINGS until she became the top of her field. Its why the Dr. had chosen to work for the military in the first place. In hopes she would be granted an opportunity for vengeance.
However, she had no clue how they expected one man to make a difference? Sure, he was one of the manliest looking men she’s ever seen. He cut quite an attractive figure splitting that fire wood. But looking nice while chopping wood does not equate to annihilating a herd 100,000 strong and growing without attracting attention. If he was going to make any difference at all, They had a lot to discuss.
Rambo directed her to sit down at a humble homemade table on a humble homemade chair. Rambo then tossed the dossier on the table, followed by two glasses and a bottle of whisky.
“I need a drink, you look like you need one too. Then, I need you to tell me EVERYTHING”