It should have been a mission like any other. The setting at least had been somewhat familiar until the video started to play. Until the darkness swept in and left him alone, weapon in hand, with a chill deep in his bones. Dread crept under his skin and crawled like a living thing, and though initially he meant to search for the other Legionnaires -- safety in numbers, that had been the idea -- he swiftly found himself distracted by all too familiar scenes.
The smoldering remains of an UNSC base. Twisted corpses lying about the place, some in armor, some not. All seemed to stare up accusingly at him as he moved cautiously through their midst, and no matter how far he passed their eyes always seemed to be fixed on him.
Soldiers die. That's what they do.
He'd thought that once, hadn't he? The voice, wherever it's coming from, it isn't wrong. They were expendable, all of them. Whatever was on the ship was going to pick them off, all of them. Wait. Them. There had been others. There had been a ship, hadn't there?
Details were becoming hazier. The Legionnaires. He had to find them, he had to rejoin them. But he finds himself staring down at those familiar, bloodied faces. One of them was sickeningly familiar, the armor crushed and limbs splayed at strange angles, as though it had landed after falling from a great height. The scout helmet visor was cracked and broken, and what part of the face he could see...
This is what you bring wherever you go. Even your allies aren't immune. You are a weapon. A beast of war to be unleashed. A tool. The only thing that's changed is who now holds your leash.
No. No that can't be.
Guilt curls around his throat, quietly choking off air. He forgets to move.
II.
There's a noise following you. A soft, brittle clicking, like a gear turning, and the sound of chains moving against one another in rhythmic movement. The thing is, there's nothing there. Nothing you can see, at least.
There is the smell of blood in the air, and the noise, and nothing else. No clue of what waits there, but there is unmistakably something there in this space with you.
Seconds pass, and in another few moments the mystery will undoubtedly end, one way or another. The question is, are you sticking around to find out what is lurking there, watching you? Or do you dare to turn your back on it and hope that you are faster than it is?
Locus
It should have been a mission like any other. The setting at least had been somewhat familiar until the video started to play. Until the darkness swept in and left him alone, weapon in hand, with a chill deep in his bones. Dread crept under his skin and crawled like a living thing, and though initially he meant to search for the other Legionnaires -- safety in numbers, that had been the idea -- he swiftly found himself distracted by all too familiar scenes.
The smoldering remains of an UNSC base. Twisted corpses lying about the place, some in armor, some not. All seemed to stare up accusingly at him as he moved cautiously through their midst, and no matter how far he passed their eyes always seemed to be fixed on him.
Soldiers die. That's what they do.
He'd thought that once, hadn't he? The voice, wherever it's coming from, it isn't wrong. They were expendable, all of them. Whatever was on the ship was going to pick them off, all of them. Wait. Them. There had been others. There had been a ship, hadn't there?
Details were becoming hazier. The Legionnaires. He had to find them, he had to rejoin them. But he finds himself staring down at those familiar, bloodied faces. One of them was sickeningly familiar, the armor crushed and limbs splayed at strange angles, as though it had landed after falling from a great height. The scout helmet visor was cracked and broken, and what part of the face he could see...
This is what you bring wherever you go. Even your allies aren't immune. You are a weapon. A beast of war to be unleashed. A tool. The only thing that's changed is who now holds your leash.
No. No that can't be.
Guilt curls around his throat, quietly choking off air. He forgets to move.
II.
There's a noise following you. A soft, brittle clicking, like a gear turning, and the sound of chains moving against one another in rhythmic movement. The thing is, there's nothing there. Nothing you can see, at least.
There is the smell of blood in the air, and the noise, and nothing else. No clue of what waits there, but there is unmistakably something there in this space with you.
Seconds pass, and in another few moments the mystery will undoubtedly end, one way or another. The question is, are you sticking around to find out what is lurking there, watching you? Or do you dare to turn your back on it and hope that you are faster than it is?