Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot
A/N: greetings readers, this is my second real fanfic, and it is a crossover despite the fact that it is not posted in the crossover section. Now what is it a crossover with you might ask? Well you'll just have to wait and see. Anyway, I came up with this idea a long time ago, just haven't gotten around to actually writing it. And now, enjoy the first chapter of Dust and Death.
Prologue: Desolation
Earth
3 hours after landfall
Dust fluttered along the empty, desolate road, slowly making its way into the oblivion of the open planes. Its path was impeded only by a pair of rugged boots resting on the beaten tarmac. The black leather boots belonged to a man whose face could barely be seen. His body was covered in a gray cloak of sorts and a hood was pulled up over his head, casting his face in shadow. The thick clothing hid him from the harsh rays of the now exposed sun and helped him to blend in among the bare gray wasteland in which he traveled. Though the sky was a dull gray, there was not a cloud to be seen and the sun beat down unrelenting on the world below. It had bleached the buildings of the small town to a harsh white that burned the eyes if one stared at it too long. The street was cracked, broken. Various items were strewn about on its surface, remnants of a time long passed. Shriveled plants could be seen poking out from the cracks in the asphalt, having crawled their way into the light only to be brutally killed by the unshielded sun. The ozone layer was nearly gone now, exposing the surface to harsh radiation from the lone star in the system. Any clouds that formed would only drop toxic liquids that burned at a single touch. The surface was desolate, lifeless. No one was crazy enough to even attempt to survive out here.
Except, apparently, for this man.
A worn shotgun was slung over his back, the beaten wooden stock sticking out over his right shoulder. The slight bulge of shells could be seen in a bandolier underneath the cloak he wore. The cloak was once dark black, but years of wear had worn it down to a dull grey. Spatters of dried blood could be seen in several places and there were a few holes that looked to have been made by bullets. The man trudged forward slowly, his boots making quiet taps on the tarmac. There was no noise but the wind in the air and the sounds of this man's passage. In one hand the man carried a worn duffel bag that bulged with whatever it contained, the weight of the bag was obvious in the man's posture but it did not impede his travel in the slightest.
The man continued his journey.
Brass shell casings cracked and crunched under his boots, having become brittle after years of exposure to the harsh sunlight. The shells were the only reminder of what violence had taken place here long ago, before the surface became uninhabitable. They littered the streets, but no longer shone in the light, their luster long gone. Buildings were crumbling slowly around him, their foundations weak and barely supporting their own weight. Waiting to collapse on whoever was foolish enough to step into one. Empty and rusted car frames rested on the side of the road, pillaged for their engines and other components long before the man had even stepped foot in the town. As he neared its edge he came upon a fallen billboard, the supports rusted and broken.
The man stopped and crouched at the signs edge. He placed the duffel on the ground nearby and grabbed the sign with both hands. With unexpected strength he lifted the billboard and flipped it over onto its backside, revealing the ancient advertisement on its surface. A face smiled at the man from in front of a red and white striped flag. The slogan above it was faded and illegible, but the symbol and name in the bottom corner was clear. Itexicon.
A/N: hope you enjoyed the first chapter, reviews are always nice and encourage me to write more!
