The Veteran Decannus Decimus Domitius Lupus was brought back to consciousness by the blood tainted waves licking at his face. With a deep breath, he leaned on his hands to get on his knees and take a look, trying to get his bearings, cursing the sun which dazzled him. A series of explosions behind him caught his attention and he turned his head, wiping the blood that was running in his eyes, to spot a thick cloud of smoke rising from the east side of the dam. Closer to him, other legionaries were grounding on the lake edge, a lot of them in pieces. One of them was moaning, but it didn't matter anymore. The battle was lost, the NCR and its allies had put a stop to the Legion once and for all.
He was leading his contubernia in battle, decimating the ranks of the NCR profligates, when the big metal bird appeared in the sky. The vision had paralyzed the legionaries for an instant, then the bird's flanks opened to rain death on them.
The explosions blew him over the dam, right in Lake Mead. Fortuna, goddess of Luck, was on his side, had-he been projected on the side of the spillway rather than the reservoir, the fall would have been fatal.
The water next to him began to bubble, as the whining he could hear were replaced by howling, cutting shorts his thinking. A mirelurk just surfaced from the lake, probably attracted by the blood, and was in the process of disemboweling a legionary, that was desperately trying to crawl away despite his crippling wounds.
Lupus realized that his right hand was still tightened around his 12.7 SMG and, bursting from the water in turn, aimed his gun at the mirelurk head before squeezing the trigger, pretty sure of the outcome.
This-one was, however, really different of the one he expected. The burst left the gun alright, the flash of light and the recoil in his arm left no doubt about it, but the bullets seemed disappear , passing nowhere near the mirelurk, while this one quietly finished gutting his victim, whose screams finally ended. He cursed the blood hindering his sight, and after wiping it with the back of his hand, did another attempt, without any more success, except drawing the mirelurk's attention.
As the mutant crab drew near, the decanus changed strategy, letting go of his submachine gun to draw his machete. Aware that there was a problem with his sight, he closed his eyes and, glossing over the noises of the battle still coming from the dam, focused on the sound made by the predator closing in.
Mirelurks rush head down, protecting their sensible face, before straightening back to strike. I'm a son of Mars and a member of the legion, trained in hand to hand combat and melee since childhood, I trained blindfolded, and in pitch-black environment. I can do this!
The splashes caused by the mirelurk approach seemed to slow down, and a sudden air suction warned Lupus from a movement. He stepped back swinging, visualizing the fight in his mind. He felt a slight resistance, then his machete was free again, clean cutting through one of the creature appendages. This one began to back away, releasing some kind of hooting. Lupus took the opportunity, let himself be guided by the sound, and lunged, his blade sinking deep in the mutant's flesh.
The legionary opened his eyes to find out he had stabbed the mirelurk right in the maw, the steel forced the entrance to what those creatures used as mouth, before sliding in its pretence of a brain. Despite his predicament, Lupus felt a hint of relief. He didn't what was wrong with his sight, but at least he could still count on his training and his instinct.
The relief didn't last, as the lake surface exploded again right next to him, and an oversized clamp tightened on his right arm. He repressed a shout, cursing his own stupidity. The hoot uttered by the first mirelurk was probably a call to help, a swarm of this creatures was maybe rushing to him.
The mutant wasn't letting go, and the decanus's attempts at getting his machete back from the other monster's skull were not going anywhere. Taking in a big gasp of air, he slammed the palm of his hand with all his strength on the face of the mirelurk, shouting a battle cry. There was a cracking, and the creature seemed stunned for a short while before it pulled itself together. Being encouraged by the results, Lupus resumed with a renewed vigor, beating the beast's face, shouting continually, while the monster kept shaking his arm, trying to rip off his biceps.
In a final crunch, the crab's face gave in, Lupus's fist crushing the flimsy nervy lump located behind. The creature suddenly stopped short in its track, and began slowly going down, dragging the legionary with it, the clamp still tightly closed on his arm, from which the blood was starting to flow at an alarming rate.
With an additional effort, draining the little stamina he had left, Lupus was able to release the claw from his arm, and began staggering towards the shore, leaving the sinking mutant behind.
As he was putting his foot on the beach, he heard new splashes behind him. New mirelurks. He had to get ready for them. But he couldn't feel his right arm anymore, and the surrounding area appeared to get darker really fast.
Despite all his will and the consciousness of upcoming danger, Lupus dropped heavily on the sand, the world suddenly black.
