Marcus, Age 11
"Son, you will be a great fighter! I know it!" John said confidentley.
"Thank you dad! I try my hardest!" Mark said.
"I know, now go get supper for the night, the Mirelurks are crawling around this time in the morning!" John said.
Mark smiled then walked into the Shack, Mark lived on a bridge with his Mother, Father, Sister, and Brother, Mark was getting his Hunting Rifle, he was a good shot, but he was more skilled with blades.
Mark ran down the bridge getting closer to the ground, he ran to the river and saw a Mirelurk up ahead, it seemed he was the only one around. Mark looked through the scope on his gun and got in on the Mirelurks face, he pulled the trigger and a loud bang came, the Mirelurk fell down dead.
"Perfect!" Mark said.
He went up into the Mirelurk and dragged it out of the water, when he got it on land three men walked infront of him.
"Whats a little kid like you doing out here all alone, ya know this place is dangerous!" One of the Men said.
Mark reached to the back of his pants he grabbed hold of the handle of a Combat Knife and unseathed it quietley.
"Please, I do not want to hurt you leave me alone!" Mark said.
Mark was taught not to fear, and he was taught well.
"Hahahah!" The man lauged he took a Baton from his side, Mark saw this and thrusted the dagger forwards into the mans chest, the other man kicked Mark in the head and he fell down unconcious.