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The Legion of the Betrayed by rauthr
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The Legion of the Betrayed part 1-- Beginning
Date: 16 October 2008, 2:19 pm
"All inventory is taken, sir." The young Marine looked down at his
clipboard.
"Good. And is everything accounted for?"asked the newly-appointed General Johnes.
"Uh, no sir. We're missing a few vehicles and equipment," the Marine stated.
"What's missing?"
"Well, we missed two Warthogs, a Mongoose, two Hornets, and a Pelican. Oh, and a
Gauss Warthog."
"That's it?"
"Well, one of the recruits is checking on our Scorpions."
"And of the equipment?"
"We're missing all of our Sniper Rifle S2 AMs and ammo, four Rocket Launcher M19
SSMs and ammo, two M7057 Flamethrowers, all of our Shotgun M90s and ammo, a few
Magnums and two SMGs. A few grenades, trip mines, bubble shields. And four Spartan Lasers.
Whoever robbed us didn't go light."
"Well."
At that moment, the recruit ran up to the two men. "Sir, I have the Scorpion inventory,"
he said when he wasn't panting. "We are completely stocked up, except for one tank."
"I see. Ah!" General Johnes exclaimed. "I know where all of the missing equipment went.
I sent out a party a few days back to check on the three crashed carriers. I went with the heavy
artillery because the route is supposedly riddled with Covenant support, even though they've been
disbanded for several years."
The soldiers were satisfied with this answer, and moved along, the recruit still breathing
hard. He could hear them talking as they walked away.
"Hey, I'll race ya to the mess hall," the Marine said.
"Nah, I'm a bit tired. I haven't ran like that since the first time I saw a Brute chargin'
me..."
Johnes knew something was wrong. That party he sent out had come back yesterday. He
was sure that those two would notice when they saw their comrades at lunch. Well, there was no
use worrying about it for now. And he left to go eat.
After lunch, General Johnes was talking to a Marine, when a Warthog jumped over
the sand dunes on the horizon, heading toward their base. Everyone in the camp turned to look at
the mysterious vehicles.
"Sir," a young man with binoculars said.
"Yes, soldier," Johnes replied.
"About that Warthog."
"Yes?"
"It's one of ours that was missing on inventory."
At this, Johnes' eyes widened.
Then, the Marine Johnes was talking to fell over dead as a single sniper rifle bullet pierced
his skull and nestled itself deep in his brain tissue. Two Marines that were talking a few yards
away turned, only for one to be shot in the head, too.
"You son of a–!" cried the other, pulling out a Battle Rifle. Blood splattered the ground as
a bullet flew through his jugular vein in his neck.
Johnes ran to the armory, packed a few grenades and extra clips, and grabbed a Shotgun.
He put a few bullets into the gun, and ran back out, seeing the Warthog shooting his men all
around. He fired a shot off, but didn't manage to harm anyone, just to do damage to the Warthog.
The man shooting the turret turned the large gun and aimed it at Johnes. Three shots went
off at the General. Two punctured his left elbow, the other clipped his neck.
Johnes fell down, blood seeping from the wound. His last sight was of the turret aiming
down at his body, and then he faded away.
The Warthog's turret felt good in Kiowa's hands. It was great to be back behind a
gun, shooting off seemingly infinite rounds and shooting small insect-like mortals.
And that was the problem with Kiowa. He believed himself to be immortal. He believed
himself to be a kind of higher life. He believed this because of one reason: the past.
As a small child, Kiowa was shot four times before the age of 14. At the age 17, he was
run through with his own modified Plasma Sword. Then, he was left in the cold snowy regions of
this planet they were on, picked up two years later, and left in the desert. Nothing had killed him.
He was immortal.
Assault gripped the Warthog's steering wheel firmly. While Kiowa was shooting
off rounds and Spyder was sniping threats, he was steering around this doomed camp and making
sure no one would leave alive, except for them. He saw a young boy near a man as the man fell
dead. Oh, no. Did he? Did Kiowa just kill this boy's father?
"Kiowa!"he shouted. "Be careful who you shoot. If you kill the dad, ya gotta get the son,
too!"
Spyder was an exceptional sniper and battler. He made sure that no one would kill
him, or his team. His motto was, "Pick off the flies and feed the crows."
And that's what he was doing. Pickin' off flies and feedin' the crows.
Soon, the whole camp was dead. One Marine walked out.
"Quick, jump on!"yelled Kiowa.
"Thanks, brother."
The young marine hopped onto the Warthog, and they drove off into the desert.
General Johnes woke up four hours later. His shoulder ached horribly, and the
ground under him was a sandy crimson color.
Everyone was dead. Everyone.
"No! It can't be! That's it! You will pay! All of you! Gunslinger, Kiowa, Spyder, Buccaneer, and especially you, Assault! I will destroy your stupid Legion of the Betrayed!!!"
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