[i]The Legion Demands Blood...[/i] [b]I open the door to my room, confident. I run my hand against the mahogany wall, not realizing I just traced blood along it. I look over, see the blood on the wall, and sigh. See, I'd just gone out Legion hunting, out to kill some crimson bastards. They were horrible sons of bitches, murderers, thieves, torturers, slavers, and even worse. I look down at my NCR Ranger Combat Armor, blood-soaked. I guess using my Riot Shotgun on a few of them was a mistake. The 34 on my chest was covered in blood, as was the two-headed bear of the NCR. Damn Legion, always getting their stinking blood on my clothes. The Combat Armor chest piece would be easy to clean off, the jeans and the overcoat wouldn't be. Thankfully, I hadn't gotten any blood on my helmet, now that would be a bitch to clean off. I go over to my sink, and turn the tap on, and pull my gloves off. I run them under the water, the blood sliding off the fabric. I put the gloves on the side of the sink, hoping they'd dry out quick. I take my helmet off, and put it beside the gloves. I take off my overcoat, that would just have to wait until I could get it to an actual big source of water. I reach over to the left, taking hold of a washcloth, and I wet it under the sink's tap. I begin to wipe the blood off my armor, it takes a damn while. I then move down to my jeans, switching them out for a fresh pair. For now, I wouldn't have my coat, but that was fine. The Combat Armor only went down to my shoulders, but it was protection where it counted. I still had my two pistols on me, I'd put away the rest of my weapons over in my gun cabinet, the .50 MG Anti-Material Rifle, my silenced .308 Sniper Rifle, my Riot Shotgun, and my Bowie Knife. Only two guns that were on me were on my hips, Hunting Revolver on my left, A Light Shining In Darkness on the right. I walk over to a chair, and sit down. It was time to just kick back, and relax. I must've dozed off, cause when I woke up, my door was being smashed in. I snap awake, and run around the back of my chair. I knew who was coming after me. Don't know what gave it away, the Latin-spewing, or the fact they were wearing Legion crimson, from what I could tell, at least. It was another one of those damned assassin squads. Bastards were dumb if they thought they could kill me. They bust down the door, all five of them running in. Four of them wore Centurion armor, it being made of salvaged Power Armor and Veteran Legion armor. They all wore those stupid-ass helmets, metal ones with red feathers and shit on top of it. Two of those guys had chainsaws, one of the others had a Light Machine Gun, and the last Centurion had a 12.7mm Submachine Gun. The one that really caught my attention was the leader. Now, is seen these assholes a million times, but this time... Just kinda interested me. He had the standard Vexillarius armor, the Veteran armor with those stupid pieces of metal covering the chest, the Legion battle standard on his back, and he had the normal fox-pelt helmet. He was carrying a Riot Shotgun. This wouldn't be too hard. I unholster my two pistols, and peek out from behind cover, and fire two shots at one of the Centurion's heads, one of 'em with the chainsaw. Blew his head to shreds, burst like a watermelon, brain matter and pieces of skull going everywhere. His body fell to the floor, and the Centurion with the LMG shot at me, as did the one with the 12.7mm SMG. The one with the chainsaw charged, all the way up to the chair. When I ducked back under cover, my left arm caught a few bullets, making me drop the Hunting revolver. A second later, the Centurion with the chainsaw crossed into my line of fire, and caught a bullet to the jaw, decimating his jaw, blowing it clean off, in fact. The two with the fully-automatic weapons were next, the crimson on them not just being their uniforms anymore. Little did I know, the Vexillarius snuck up behind me, and I caught some buckshot to the back, knocking me over. It didn't pierce my armor, but it did knock me over. He put a foot on my back, and fired on the same spot three more times, fûcking my back up really bad, sending a little blood onto the guy's face. He put the shotgun to my left shoulder, and pulled the trigger, blowing the arm clean off. A spray of blood went everywhere, and my arm was shredded to all hell, separated from the rest of me. I screamed in pain, thrashing about. The Legion bastard flipped me over, and looked me in the eyes. There was one crucial detail he'd forgotten, though. I still had a gun in my right arm. I put the gun up to his temple, smiled, and mouthed [i]See you in hell.[/i] I pulled the trigger, splattering his brains across the room. I holstered the pistol, and used my remaining arm to use the chair as a support to help me up. After getting up, I put my hand to my newly-formed stump, and stumbled away from the room, out the door. I collapse onto the dirt.[/b] [spoiler]Open. Your choices decide if he dies. One person screws up and gets him killed? That's it. That's the end. Only one rule in this post. You can't kill Grant yourself.[/spoiler]