Return of a Pariah

[Flipout6]

First things first, Thanks to MikeRyan for helping me come up with the title! I swear those things are about as elusive as an invisible ninja Roadrunner.

This IS NOT A PLOT SPOILER, just some background information on Versing and how his clothing looks in case you didn't know about him, which I'm sure is some, if not most of you.

 

I originally came up with Versing for the Role-play Ain't That a Kick in the Head? which can still be found in the RP forums, alive and healthy (Thankfully.)I liked him enough that I decided to expand his horizons a bit, and wrote this. If you want an idea as to what his armor looks like, here's a pic of him with his face covered up, (It didn't look accurate at all.) http://imageshack.us/f/253/versingv22.jpg/ Mind you, he's as skinny as a starving runt, no muscles or fat at all, so ignore the muscles on his arms, that's just the program I used, called Heromachine, a link to which is right here http://www.heromachine.com/heromachine-3-lab/ If you want to use it.

 

 

Heavy black combat boots thudded into the baked, dry sand of the South-Eastern Mojave wasteland, slow yet steady, crunching in the sand beneath. The only other sound to interrupt the serenity of the heat-blasted cliffs and dunes was the wind, which lifted sand from the ground, or the top of a cliff, and transported it elsewhere. Through it walked a beaten, grizzled mid-thirties man, roasting and sweating in the heat below his modified combat armor. Atop his head sat the worn and faded helmet of a soldier of the Bear, the goggles pulled down over his eyes, shielding them from the sand and debris. On his back, a rucksack, containing a modest few items, and a sleeping bag. He cradled a combat shotgun in his hands.

 

Josepher Versing had been walking like this for almost a year now, walking not the breadth of the land but a narrow path through it, intent on reaching his destination quickly. And today his destination was the western side of the Colorado River. He would reach it well before nightfall, and thankfully it wasn't noon yet. The war veteran didn't mind that he was treading Legion ground, even if he fought for the Bear. He'd not only walked it, but defiled it before, spilling the Bull's blood onto it's own soil and leaving it to boil in the sun. And he'd spill more of it by year's end.

 

The sun continued its merciless assault on the land as Versing continued ever onward. His body cast a long shadow in front of him. His eyes, green and spotted with bright jade and turquoise, scanned the horizon, looking for something, anything, that would break the tedium of sand-blasted rock faces and cliffs. Off in the distance, a single, small trail of black smoke trailed freely across the sky. Versing thought for a moment. He was quite a ways south of Fortification Hill and Hoover Dam, and was just downriver from Cottonwood Cove, meaning he was probably approaching Dry Wells, a tribal village just barely on the fringe of the Mojave Wasteland. He pushed towards it. The Legion may have assimilated them, but they also had a boat he could use to cross the river.

 

He reached Dry Wells by mid-afternoon. Once he had that boat, he could join back up with the NCR. He'd been with them before and during the First Battle of Hoover Dam, even for Bitter Springs. He knew for a fact that the Second battle hadn't occured yet, and that there was going to be one. He couldn't simply miss it, it meant too much for the NCR, and as a result, his family in Shady Sands. And besides, he wouldn't have been able to stay in the Capital Wasteland for the rest of his life, especially after Morgan left. With any luck they were both headed for the same destination-the Dam- and would meet up again. But even if they didn't, Versing doubted a stranger in a duster that could crush trees with his fists would go unnoticed. Pulling his thoughts together, Versing examined the village, noting with alarm the abundance of crimson uniforms. He'd have to sneak around to the boat. The lone trooper grabbed his shotgun from a sling over his shoulder, crouched behind a rock, and tactically plotted his method of attack.

Edited October 1, 2012 by Flipout6