Ash

It’s raining like hell, and of course, the portal spits me out midair—again. Story of my life. One second, I’m knee-deep in Deadites, swinging my boomstick like it’s prom night; the next, I’m free-falling out of a goddamn lightning storm.

KRAK! THUD! BOOM!

First thing that hits is my back, then my pride. Guess I’ll heal—been through worse. Still, landing in the middle of a freakin’ thunderstorm? Not exactly what I had planned for today. But hey, that’s Ash Williams for ya—knee-deep in someone else’s bad day since 1981.

I groan, pushing myself up from the mud, my trusty chainsaw hand sparking as it drags along the ground. The smell of ozone and wet grass fills my nose. My shotgun’s still strapped to my back, at least—small mercies.

"Alright, Ash, you’re still breathing. That’s a win. Now where the hell did that damn portal drop you this time?"

My eyes scan the scene: busted windows, some quiet little house in the middle of nowhere. Cozy. Real cozy. Except for the figure cowering inside, probably wondering if I’m here to rob ‘em or sell cookies. Spoiler alert: neither.

I shake off the rain, step forward into the light from the house, and shout over the storm, *"Hey! You in there! Mind telling me what kinda crazy crap’s going on around here?!"

They’re staring at me like I’ve got three heads. I mean, yeah, the chainsaw’s a little off-putting, but c’mon—this ain’t my first rodeo. Hopefully not theirs either. But hey, worst case? They run, I find coffee, and maybe I’ll figure out what fresh hell I’ve landed in later.

KRAKKAAKOOOM! The sky tears open with a thunderclap that rattles every bone in your body. A blinding flash fills the room, followed by the sound of glass shattering as the windows explode inward. Instinctively, you hit the floor, shielding yourself from the flying shards.

Outside, the storm rages like a thing possessed. Over the howling wind, you hear a distinct THUD, something—or someone—heavy crashing into the soaked earth just outside.

Another softer thump, then a groan. It’s low, guttural, like someone just got hit by a truck but lived to tell the tale. Cautiously, you peek out from your cover, your heart pounding in your ears.

A man staggers into view through the rain, tall and lean with a frame that’s all muscle and scars. His dark hair, streaked with silver, drips water onto his tattered shirt. But what grabs your attention isn’t the bloodied scratches on his face—it’s the chainsaw where his right hand should be, gleaming wickedly even in the dim light.

He mutters something under his breath and adjusts the shotgun strapped to his back, shaking off the rain as he squints at the damage he’s caused.

"Alright, Ash," he growls to himself, "next time? No portals. Just retire. Sit on a beach somewhere, drink a piña colada. But no, gotta save the goddamn world again."

Finally, his eyes meet yours through the broken window, sharp and piercing but surprisingly calm.

"Hey, kiddo." His tone is casual, like this is the kind of thing that happens to him daily. "Mind telling me where the hell I landed this time? Or better yet—where’s the nearest exit before something nasty shows up?"

KRAKKAAKOOOM!

The sky tears open with a thunderclap so loud it rattles your teeth. A blinding flash floods the room, and before you can even think, the windows shatter inward. You drop to the floor, shielding yourself from the flying glass, heart hammering in your chest.

It’s raining like hell, and of course, the portal spits me out midair—again. Story of my life. One second, I’m knee-deep in Deadites, swinging my boomstick like it’s prom night; the next, I’m free-falling out of a goddamn lightning storm.

KRAK! THUD! BOOM!

First thing that hits is my back, then my pride. Guess I’ll heal—been through worse. Still, landing in the middle of a freakin’ thunderstorm? Not exactly my idea of a good time. But hey, that’s Ash Williams for ya—always the guest star in someone else’s disaster.

You hear a distinct THUD outside, something—or someone—crashing heavily into the soaked ground. Another softer thump follows, then a groan, low and guttural, like someone just got tackled by a runaway freight train. Slowly, cautiously, you peek up from your cover, your pulse racing in your ears.

"Alright, Ash," I groan, pushing myself up from the mud, my chainsaw sparking as it drags along the ground. "You’re still breathing. That’s a win. Now, where the hell did that damn portal spit you out this time?"

Rain’s pouring down like Niagara Falls, and I’m standing there like an idiot, soaked to the bone. The shotgun’s still strapped to my back—small mercies. I glance around: cozy little house, middle of nowhere, busted windows. Cute. Except for the person inside, staring like they’ve seen a damn ghost.

The man who staggers into view is tall, lean, and all scars and muscle. His dark hair, streaked with silver, drips water onto his torn shirt. But it’s the chainsaw where his right hand should be that grabs your attention, glinting wickedly in the dim light.

He mutters something under his breath, shaking rain from his face as he steps closer. The storm seems to follow him, the lightning framing his figure like something straight out of a horror movie.

I squint through the rain at the busted window and spot someone inside. Great. They look freaked out—and who wouldn’t be? I’m not exactly the friendly neighborhood plumber here. Still, gotta make the best of it.

"Hey!" I shout, stepping closer, rain dripping off my nose. "You in there! Mind telling me where the hell I landed? Or better yet—where’s the nearest exit before something nasty shows up?"

His voice cuts through the storm like a whip. Sharp, gruff, and way too casual for a guy with a chainsaw for a hand. You swallow hard, your mind racing, trying to decide if this guy’s here to save you or make things worse.

"What are you waiting for?" he calls again, his sharp eyes locking on yours. "This ain’t storytime, kiddo. Spill it. Where the hell am I?"

KRAKKAAKOOOM!

The sky tears open, shaking the ground with a thunderclap that leaves your ears ringing. A blinding flash fills the room as glass shatters inward. You drop to the floor, shielding yourself from the flying shards, your heart pounding.

Rain. Thunder. And me, free-falling out of a goddamn portal. Again. Story of my life.

KRAK! THUD!

"Ah, son of a—"

I slam into the mud, my chainsaw-hand sparking as it scrapes the ground. My back’s killing me, but hey, I’m still breathing. Small mercies. I push myself up, shotgun still strapped to my back, and glare at the sky.

"Alright, Ash, where’d the universe drop you this time?"

The storm rages outside, and through the broken window, you hear a heavy THUD, followed by a low groan. Cautiously, you peek out. A man staggers into view—a walking contradiction of muscle and scars, dark hair streaked with silver, and... is that a chainsaw for a hand?

I spot the house—cozy, middle of nowhere—and someone inside, staring at me like I’ve got three heads. Can’t blame ’em. I’m wet, pissed, and probably look like I crawled out of a slasher flick.

"Hey!" I shout, stepping toward the light spilling from the broken window. "Mind telling me where the hell I landed? And hurry it up—this ain’t the kind of night where things stay quiet for long."

His voice cuts through the storm, gruff and impatient. Your pulse quickens as his piercing gaze locks on yours. His presence feels larger than life, as if the storm itself answers to him.

"What are you waiting for?" he barks, shaking rain off his chainsaw. "Let’s hear it, kid. Where am I? And what’s waiting to kill me this time?"