Codex Classified

Codex: Dustbowl

Average Day on Dustbowl

3rd Person POV- Dustbowl Stage 1, Point 1

Whoosh! A corrugated metal door flew open as a skinny man dashed under the metal panel. He was wearing dusty black cleats with two thin white stripes, knee-high, white socks, black trousers rolled up to the knee, a red t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the shoulder and a blocky baseball cap with an orange-muffed earpiece. His hands were wrapped in bandages, the bandages bound to his hands like a pair of fingerless gloves. He had two dogtags connected to a single, skinny ball-chain blowing over his shoulder. On his back, swinging parallel to his dogtags was a black baseball bag, half-zipped open with a shiny, blood-spattered aluminum bat inside. He had a thin, dark belt around his waist with a shiny, silver-coloured buckle. His eyes, hidden by the shadow his hat created, were ice-blue, pairing with his cocky, arrogant toothy smile to form the face of Jeremy Hattermann, or simply 'Scout'. He was young, only around twenty.

In his hands was a sawed-off shotgun with a wooden fore-grip falling just short of two twin barrels. The stock receded to a stout cylindrical base. Extending opposite was a wooden handle with a flick-pump reload. It was Scout's Scattergun, a deadly twin-barreled menace of a modified twin-barrelled shotgun.

"Mission begins in sixty seconds!" A demanding female voice sharply echoed across the map, reaching Scout's ears as he booked it across the dusty, sun-bleached rocky ground. Orange puffs of dust flew up under his feet as he ran. The sun was merciless, beating down without rest. Scout suddenly took a sharp left turn around a dusty, dented silo, before taking another left turn into a building. He then turned right, running through a tunnel. As he exited, he came to a box-like building to his right. It had two large, paneless windows which had a large wooden platform spanning both in front. Under the platform was a few rusty, out-of-order minecarts piled high with ancient black coal.

In front of him was a small canyon, which led into a large bluish building with chain link doors. To the left of the canyon was higher ground that was level with the ground of the building next to him. The land held a small, wooden shed next to a rocky wall, of which was a part of the blue base. On the right side of the small canyon was a wider piece of high ground, which led to the aforementioned large box-like building via an empty door frame. There was another, larger shed with a few boarded-up windows, this time next to another pair of chain link doors in a wall of the blue-shaded building. Scout turned into the large, box-like building to his right.

Inside of the structure, the rocky, bleached ground was replaced with a cool, smooth stone floor, as well a large metal circle in the ground. In the metal, there was a red, glowing light in its center. To the left of the circle was a wooden staircase which led up to a short bridge which entered back into the short cave he just exited, however to a higher path.

Suddenly, Scout felt his body filled with, for lack of a better term, power. He skidded to a stop as he looked over his shoulder. Behind him was an older man, around forty. He was dressed in a buttoned-up white lab coat that extended down to his knees, red rubber gloves that went up to his elbows, brown trousers and knee-high military boots. Around his waist was a dark-brown belt with many pouches of varying sizes. Also on the belt was a light-grey, blood-stained bonesaw (It's currently unknown which teams' blood it is) and an air-powered syringe gun. Mounted on the top of the gun was a clear, plastic cylinder which housed lengthy needles, filled with a mysterious, unidentified clear liquid, which was sloshing around viscously with his every move. The man's hair was greying on the sides of his thin face and his eyes, partially concealed by a pair of thin-rimmed black metal glasses, matched Scout's in colour- a piercing ice blue. He had high cheekbones which made his face appear thinner than it really was. A small lock of his black hair had fallen over his right eye, which he kept trying to push back up with his hand to no avail, as the hair rebelliously repeated to fall. This man was Reficul Ludwig, the team's medic. Coincidentally, he went by 'Medic' (or 'Doctor') on the field.