From Hooves to Hands; the Dust Remains

It was dark, almost to dark. The only light that was shed on the area was that coming from the moon and the strip miles away.

Walker sat atop a lone ridge looking down upon a large canyon with many legion dogs. "According to that recording the guy is camping beside the river at the other end of this canyon. Best to get a start." He told himself pulling the sniper rifle from the duffel bag on his back; it was upgraded with a silencer and carbon fiber parts to make it lighter.

Looking down the scope he aimed at a lone legion scout. "Lights out buddy." He pulled the trigger and watched as the body fell down with a new blood stain on the canyon floor.

He quickly readjusted his aim and fired at the next guy. Body after body fell until eventually he missed. The Legion runner looked up and was about to run when a bullet blew out his right leg.

Walker slid down the smooth canon wall and put the rifle on his back again. Walking close he looked down at the man with his leg now missing. Sniveling and crying he looked up at the man standing above him. "Kill me." Was all that was said before Walker pulled his 1911 and put a silenced round through the mans skull.

Looking down at the pistol in his hand he remembered the day he bought it from Joshua Graham as well as the HD Slide and Silencer. Grabbing the used shell from the ground he began to search the bodies. 25 Denarius  and a couple of pistol rounds (to which would later be used to make .45 rounds) later he was moving through the canyon again.

He had the pistol out and was in a crouch surveying the area. He wore the Elite Riot Gear with the low light optic helmet. In his duffel bag he had his sniper rifle, the survivalist rifle, some binoculars, a shovel, his health stuff, food, a spare of clothes, items to fix damages on his clothes, misc items, etc.

On his side he wore his silenced 1911, and on his left hip a broad machete, underneath of his duster was a special toy for those dark moments.

Walker just kept walking, silence. It was that old eerie silence that comes from the empty of the waste and chills you even under the Mojave sun.  In Big Mountain there was a record, a small room in the corner of the complex. It was so quiet you could hear your blood flowing. Walker walked in it once, when he heard the silence it was like nothing he could even understand, then he remembered the silence of the waste and how hearing nothing was worse than hearing your blood flow. The sound of his blood distracted him, but in the waste the sound of nothing allows you to think, and in a world like this, that is not a good thing.

He opened the door to the small shack that was the destination of the package. "Anyone home?" Nothing. Yet something, a creaking noise it sounded like.

Closing the door he walked to the back. BOOM Turning he saw a mother death claw standing where the wall once had been with a murderous look on her face.

When she swung he jumped over the low sweep and out the hole. Rolling out of the dive he looked around for something to use to help defeat her. To one side sat a dead legionnaire with a hunting shotgun by his side.

Looking back he saw her swing again and jumped toward the dead scout. Grabbing the shotgun he flipped around and began firing in her direction. When he emptied the shotgun he looked to see he had blown out her right eye and nothing more. "Fuck me."

Jumping up and throwing down the shotgun he ran back toward the shack. Stopping at the hole in the wall he reached under his duster. Out from the coat came a shimmering 1911 with a short barrel and inscriptions in Greek, the trigger was skelatonized and the handle was snake skin. He had found what the writing meant a long time ago and started shouting it when he used the pistol.

"And the light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehended it not!" He yelled unloading the clip into the abomination. Stumbling forward as Walker reloaded the pistol it snarled before jumping back at him. Jumping back he made for somewhere deeper in the shack.

Running in he felt himself go airborne as it hit him. Smashing into a shelf he closed his eyes and put the gun barrel to his head. "Momma forgive me."

In a swift motion he aimed at a box of landmines that had been sitting next to the opening. As the deathclaw entered the round hit the mines and exploded, taking the deathclaws legs with them. The explosion hit a circut box on the wall and caused it to explode.

Before it completely was destroyed he traced it to a strange terminal in the corner. Attached to the terminal by a cord was what looked like a transportalonder. "This can't end well."

As the last word left his lips the terminal exploded and a shock-wave hit him. It was unlike the Big Mountain Transportalponder in he didn't feel anything. It was like he was nothing, and there was nothing.

After a moment he felt something like a wall slamming him. For a moment he could see the forest; as dark and gloomy as it seemed. "I'm telling you, that noise wa- AHHH!" Then darkness.