The Scout, Nov 5, 2023
Nov.05.2023 BY KIX_Klutch
After silently stalking the L.F.J. convoy through the frigid dunes for the last twelve hours, The Scout chuckled.
The deafening crack of a cannon pierced through the air, echoing throughout the endless sea of sand.
“Jackpot,” he said to himself.
The Scout dropped prone upon reaching the top of a nearby hill and began his surveillance. Dawn crested over the horizon of a far-off dune, casting pale light over a makeshift desert encampment.
Twelve tents, six tanks, and eight field operators loitering about a folding table.
The tanks had just fired on the remains of a decimated Cataphract, far off in the distance.
He raised his scope and pulled focus towards the tanks.
At first glance, he assumed the tanks were Sabres or heavily modded Crusaders, but… no, that wasn’t right. The barrel length: incorrect. Heavily fortified turrets, massive treads, and on-board mortar launchers? Whatever kind of new tank the L.F.J. had cooked up, it was eccentric.
The tanks’ engines roared to life. They jolted into action, treads kicking up dense plumes of sand. No lead time and the tanks were already running, and fast. Must have been double the top speed of an Erebus, easy.
As they closed in on the husk of the Cataphract, they prepared to unleash a fusillade from their primary cannons. They aimed. Awaited their signal– and fired. A peal of thunder, an eruption of flame, followed by smoke and the scent of incinerated steel rising from a smoldering wreck.
Just then, a older repainted Centurion rolled into view, previously hidden by a dune.
The Scout peers through his scope and chuckles to himself, “Always the same story with these drivers, too much time on their hands and too sentimental. Always with the paint.. wait… what are…,”
Without moving, the Scout quietly observes,
“That’s no Centurion…”
To be continued…