His eyes opened slowly. He wasn't sure what woke him up. In fact, he couldn't remember going to sleep. Sasha blinked and sat up, raising a hand to rub his hand. He felt...off. But he couldn't really describe it. Hungover, almost. A cool breeze picked up on the wind, running across his bare skin.

Where the hell were his clothes? 

Sasha went from drowsy to full alert in mere seconds. This wasn't right. He was on his feet, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He spun around to look at the greenery surrounding him, lush and vigorous. This definitely wasn't Afghanistan. The cool atmosphere almost reminded him of his homeland in the summer. 

A soft snap of a nearby twig made him forget all about where he was. Someone, or something, was stalking him. Sasha looked around quickly, his eyes landing on a sturdy looking branch laying on the ground. He snatched it up and gave it a good wack on the dirt, testing it's strength. 

"Come on," He growled, glaring towards the direction of the sound. Another soft rustle of greenery. Whoever or whatever it was, Sasha was stronger and meaner. He was sure of it. The beast tore out of the brush with a hungry roar, not happy that it's potential dinner was challenging it. 

[i]CRACK. [/i]

The club hitting the creature's skull sounded like a home run. The animal was thrown to the ground by the force, and Sasha didn't give it a chance to get back up. He yelled as he descended on it, bashing it's head in until it was unrecognizable. When he was satisfied that the beast was dead, he paused to actually see what he had killed. This...didn't look like any kind of animal he'd ever seen. Sasha was no zoologist, but he was pretty well traveled. This didn't even look like a creature of Earth. Which begged the question...

"Where the hell am I?" 

Sasha's eyes scanned the ground, pausing on the strange markings that had surrounded him. They lingered there for a moment before he silently turned and picked a direction to storm off in. There had to be a town or something nearby; nobody could drag him out too far without leaving a trail. He began to shove his way through the forest, pushing leaves and branches out of his way. Small scratches began to appear on his body, and his pale feet began to prickle as small sticks and rocks jabbed them. 

He came to a screeching hault when he came upon a clearing, several other people there. They all appeared to be in a similar predicament. Sasha's brain, trained by war and years of fighting, immediately began to evaluate them. Were they friend or foe? His hand instinctively tightened around the bloodied club he held.