A Story about the background of my Titan I want to Create. Let me know what you think! His heavy boots kicked up the sand. The sun beating down upon his shoulders, it would be stifling in the armor if he was more meat than hydraulics and circuitry he joked to himself. He pondered this as he walked through the barren desert, readings in his visor detected no movement, he walked on. His boots weren't heavy, his armor didn't weigh him down. He is a proud Titan, his name was Zo'ruuk, a defender of the Wall, out on a recon mission to a faint distress signal the tech of his fireteam picked up two nights ago, he figured it was a scout drone downed, needed repair, so he told his team to make camp while he checked it out, it was a small task. His shotgun was strapped beneath his pack of repair tools, his trusty handgun strapped to his thigh, he did a mental equipment check. Such a long walk he thought, half a kilometer to his objective, he sighed. He didn't need much water, barely any food to survive due to his body being more machine than human, he was sufficient. Movement to his left, handgun in his hand, drawn and aimed in the blink of an eye. Just a crow, maybe the heat had him on edge after all. He chuckled, and looked around. Barren, sand as far as he could see, boulders and cacti, the great Rockies to the west , a great wall, ominous, and the nuclear wasteland to the east, a deadland no man dared travel alone. He removed his helmet, reveiling his barely human face, looked at the sky...the wisps of clouds, he tried to feel the sun beating down on his face, the breeze on his neck....nothing. He put his helmet back on, frustrated, what was it like to feel those things? He picked his pace up to a good jog, what was fatigue? Hunger? His boots leaving tracks in the sand and burying rocks and gravel under his feet, he had reached a more rocky area, about 200 meters to target his visor read. He slung his shotgun from under his pack an into his hands, ready for anything, he broke into a run, time to stretch his legs. 100 meters and closing his ghosts voice chimed in. He slowed down to a walk and removed his ghost from his belt, it activated and hovered above his hand. "Weathers nice out today T-40" he said to the Ghost. "If you say so sir" it chimed back. "What would you like me to do sir?" "Survey a perimeter, 50 meters around objective, make a circle, check for the objective and head back." "Sir, yes sir." And he zoomed off, humming and chiming to himself, something about a waste of time. "Cheeky bastard" the Titan chuckled to himself. He walked on, alert now, sensors indicating no movement. Movement ahead. Shotgun to shoulder. Sensors didn't pick it up, a small bird, feathers rustling because of the wind. He knelt to check on the bird..... half eaten. He stood up, combat alert, "Fireteam Two-Eight-Coyote, we have signs of Dreg activity, requesting backup." Now, he wasn't afraid of a mere Dreg, but experience told him that they never traveled alone. All he heard back over the comm was static. Shit, he thought, a dead zone. "Come in Two-Eight-Coyote, copy" Nothing, he cursed to himself. He picked up pace, 50 meters to objective. He could see some smoke towards the objective. "T-40, do you copy." Static again...something felt wrong. The preverbal hairs stood up on the nape of his neck. The boulders at waist an shoulder height, now he picked up pace, 40 meters to objective, 35, 30, 25, 20, it should be in sight now. Up ahead he could see a small crater, with what looked like a drone inside. Shotgun at shoulder he went to a walking pace, checking the boulders and shadows from the sun he continued toward the target, 10 meters. No movement detected. 5 meters, he could see the objective in the corner of his eye, a drone, smoking profusely, in a crater of sand to his right. His senses were high. Something felt wrong in his gut. The drone just to his right he let the sling hang his shotgun at his side, at the ready. He unslung his pack and threw it on the ground as he stepped into the crater. He walked up to the drone and stopped dead in his tracks.....a Fallen Shank, he could here the distress code it was emitting. All he could think was God Dammit. It flew out of the crater, emitting an alarm, Many fallen jumped up out of the sand, Dreg, Vandal, and a couple Captain, all snarling at him, shotgun at shoulder he took fire upon the Fallen, Dreg falling as he entered a machines state of mind, the Vandal flanked while the Captains shouted orders. The shotgun was in a rhythm now, fire to the left, front, left, right, behind. There were many but he wouldn't go down without a fight. So many, they were falling on by one, snarling and gasping as their souls left them. Vandals used Dreg bodies for cover, shooting their weapons, his shield absorbing what they could and his mighty armor taking the rest. 17 down his shotgun was out of ammo, out came his handgun, methodically humming shot after shot, synchronizing with their screams and the escape of their souls. Left, right, behind, front, the bodies were piling up, there were to many. Handgun dry, the Vandals saw their chance and climbed over the bodies and jumped towards him. He took a deep breath, dropped his weapon and clenched his fists. Was this the end? Time seemed to slow as the power welled within him. The power of the Traveler, of a Titan, of Zo'ruuk. Gravel and blood droplets hovered around him, he closed his eyes. A heartbeat. He took his mighty fist and slammed it towards the ground with all his might, and the land gave way to his fist. The ground rippled as time flew back in place...a pause...and then chaos. Bodies and the remaining Dreg and Vandal were flung into boulders or disintegrated. A clear space around him, he stood, this is the power of a Titan. The Captains walked out from behind the Boulders, snarling, they dropped their weapons, disabled by the force of the blast. 3 of them, approaching from the front, swords drawn. The titan drew his blade, given to him by his father many years ago, not a sword, but not a dagger. He popped his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Who's first?" The Captains Charged, snarling, the first one met him with force, unlucky bastard. His swords missed cleanly, driven by rage he had forgotten skill, his knife entered the Captains chest and heart cavity in the blink of an eye. On to the next. The second captains sword grazed his forearm, scarring and gouging his ancient armor, the titan grabbed one of its other arms in the fray and pulled as hard as he could, planting a foot square in his chest he kicked as hard as he could, the Captain sent flying...minus an arm. The third captain met the titan with a tackle, taking him to the ground, he was feeling it now, the rage of battle. He disarmed the captain in the scuffle, and then four arms came pounding down, punching him in the gut, the shoulder, the face. The titan grabbed an arm and squeezed, unarmored, it broke, one down three to go, the Captain snarled in pain and rage, trying to get his mandibles on his visor he took a fist to the face, lifting the Captain off of him by sheer force, long enough to stand up and take ground. The Fallen charged again and in a swift maneuver he reached for his knife on the ground, spun, and almost decapitated the Fallen. Breathing heavy now, Zo'ruuk looked around, all of the were dead, his armor scarred and scratched from this battle. He removed his helmet and took a moment. He thought he felt the breeze about the time he looked down and saw a sword sticking out his side. He looked over his shoulder and there stood the three armed Captain, snarling and laughing in its own guttural language. The Titan gasped as the Captain removed the sword. The Titan had time to turn around. He could feel pain, and his receptors were screaming with it. In slow motion the Captain drew back his arm for another sword lunge, aimed for his heart. Time slowed again....a heartbeat, the Titan could see the smile on the Fallens face, and the Titan closed his eyes, frozen to the spot. A gunshot rang out and as he opened his eyes he could see the Fallens head collapse on one side and explode on the other. He looked for the source of the shot, to his right, there on a boulder, stood team Coyote. The Fem Fatale Huntress, Fortuna, and His oldest friend, Jackal the Desert Warlock. "Heard you needed help" she said. And T-40 rose from behind her shoulder. "Do we always have to babysit you, sir?" he chimed. The Titan Zo'ruuk smiled, his friends saved him. He might be machine, but he was Human. To be Continued.....