JavaScript is required to use Bungie.net

Service Alert
We are actively investigating issues impacting players' ability to sign in to all Destiny releases on Xbox Platforms. Until resolved, players may experience disconnects or be unable to sign in. Please stay tuned to @BungieHelp for updates.

Destiny

Discuss all things Destiny.
originally posted in:Providence Ideas
Edited by Zebra: 6/19/2016 8:59:35 PM
4

A Lost Cause {Part 1}

This is the intro to the story A Lost Cause. Please let me know how you all like it. __________________ I shuffled forward, rough cloth shielding me from the sand and wind, my boots pushing aside the red sand of Mars. The metal safe house where I had camped out for the past few days was just ahead, well hidden amidst the sand and rock. [i]You could just teleport there, you know.[/i] I silently shake my head, dislodging some sand from my goggles. "Not now, me." I say out loud, my voice muffled against the sand-proof hood that shields my face. I finally reach my destination, quickly tapping in the code to activate the doors with gloved fingers. They whir open, sand ghosting down. The old lights flicker on as I enter, and I remove my sweat stained goggles. I collapse into a metal chair. "Rest. I love it." I say to myself, pulling off my hood. My house is a simple place. The room where I now sit is nothing more than a couple of boxes of rusted tools, and this chair. My room is seperated from this one by another door, and that contains a bed, a desk with paper and pen, and a nearly broken dresser drawer. I also have a kitchen, if one can count a sink and a rough firepit as a kitchen. Adjacent to the kitchen is- A loud clang echoes from my room. I throw off my cloak and approach the door, right hand slipping over a metal knife; I used to have an Arc one, but that's gone now. I glide over the floor, my steps barely making any sound. I tug the knife from my waistband. A loud grunt emits from within, and a scowl etches itself across my face. A Cabal. Fourth one this month. I peek in, to see the legionaire poking around my personal belongings; the beast is facing away from me. I creep up on the intruder, unable to stop that old grin playing across my face. "That bra is not going to fit on you, motherfuсker." I whisper as I slit the legionaire's throat, and blood leaks from its neck. The thing's death is silent. The dragging of the body isn't.

Posting in language:

 

Play nice. Take a minute to review our Code of Conduct before submitting your post. Cancel Edit Create Fireteam Post

You are not allowed to view this content.
;
preload icon
preload icon
preload icon