The Legion, Chapter one, Page two

In the view of the eyes of William Goldberg came a magnificient spectacle. An island full of lush green trees that seem to spring to life as if they were to dance. They swayed in the breeze without a care in the world of what may be happening around them, and they provided the shade and home for the many creatures that inhabited its domain. Of the monkeys that swung from the tree's loss vines, to the carnivorous tigers that awaited the delecious meal of monkeys waiting to folley in the canopy top and fall to their down, and to the many insects that were idle in time to respect of none but their predaters, and even to the wonderous plants that populated the floor of this world.

A feast for the eyes it was, and to Goldberg a once in a lifetime oppurtinity. So he took the chance and gazed at the island, not aware of anything else. He wondered that if such a low job to carry low person was to be disposed of here in such a pure place.

And so did Gorden Burner, who stared at the excellence and asked the same question. He was only interrupted by the sound of the helicopter he was piloting. He jerked the controls,which also made Goldberg lose sight of what he was once amused by.

"Ah, yes. We've seemed to have forgetten the importance of our duties here." Goldberg proclaimed as he adjusted himself back to his seat from the floor. The accused who was to be disposed on the island had not moved far, but a foot or so in legth. He barely steered or showed any signs of consciousness, which reassured Goldberg that they had not awoken him yet.

As for Burner, not much had tampered him, and so he sat back up right on his seat and remembered his simple instrunctions that General Duber had gave to him. "Goldberg, I'm going to need you to unlock the prisoner's locks." Burner ordered to Goldberg.

"Yes sir, I will do what I am told." Goldberg said sternly as if he was speaking again to his Drill Instructor at basic training. He grabbed a key from the shelf from which he had obtained the white slip, and stuck the into one of three situated on the prisoner's containment suit. It unlocked and fell to a dead drop on the cold hard floor of the helicopter.

"Damnit Goldberg, you better not have woke him up this soon!" Burner said as he passed his to look in the eyes of Goldberg, and his showed of stress and doubt over this top-priority mission. "Now get the roller and please the prisoner on it. You got that!" Burner demanded as if a stream of hot gas would burst out of his head.

"The baby lamb was scared of the rain. The courageous Mother sheep was not. It walked through the rain and felt no pain and comforted the scared baby lamb. And all was once again calm when rain went away". This lullaby that Burner was surprised to even remember, was flashing through his speed. It was spoken in a calm voice, a soothing voice, a motherly voice. Burner recalled that when he is child just the age of four, his mother would have spoken it to him to calm him down whenever he was sad or mad. And everytime, it would work. Especially this time...

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"I remember when the both of you were in the training camp and were just measly men. Well at least for one of you that was the case." Said Luitenant General Duber Pyle of the 35th squadron.

He looked rigid and slightly warn out, as any old Army veteran would look like. He was wearing his uniform, adorned with a cast of luscious and shiny medals that he recieved for his immense fighting spirit and leadership abilities. Only an eye patch covering his right eye made him more menacing than he already was.

He was of the age 63 at the time, and would be aging casually as any regular human would. But he stayed loyal to the army and the country he fought for, and he wouldn't retire until he died. He was very damn well patriotic as anybody could be, and showed it the most through his 30 years of service in the Army. From the lowely rank of private to the coveted rank of General.

He scratched his nearly bald head and then looked down at a file he had placed down in the middle of the table between him and two people that were dressed as if for a secret mission. His eyes wandered around the bleak and empty room, and he saw nothing. There was no pictures or paintings, there was no fridge or television, nothing was unique about this room other than the people in it and was being told in it.

"Sir? If you don't mind, I have something to say about this." Luitenant Goldberg said as he interrupted Pyle's train of thought.

"No. I don't mind at all that you just interrupted what could be the thought that would save your sorry ass on this damn well important mission. Who cares that what I was thinking may be crucial that it would not be interrupted by the likes of a nitwit such as yourself!" General Duber yelled as he looked square into Goldbergs' eyes.

"I'm completely sorry sir, but this question is of great importance!" Goldberg said as he kept the squeamish look in his face.

It was tense in this room, and nobody was moving or talking. The other soldier just kept to himself and staired at the wall, thinking deeply about something. The air around was seeming to become less and less as he started to lose his breath. He was face was turning pink as it was heating up. The sweat was rolling down his face like a waterfall. It was all a pitiful sight for Gorden Burner, who had quit his gaze at the wall to see what was going on.

He nodded his head a few times to confirm to himself that this was really going on and he wasn't in a dream. He then closed his eyed and spoke with calm. "Sir. You know how Goldberg is. If you keep this up, you'll have to find another somehow equally smart as Goldberg, and I'd like to remind of the tremendous bill we got from the hospital the first time you did this to Goldberg." He finishened as he smiled with a look of satisfaction and opened his eyes.

"Right as you always are Burner. Five hundred push-ups was the lowest I was permitted to you as a punishment, but if it was my choice, it would have been more severe than whatever nightmare you would have ever had." With this General Duber sat down on his chair as it made a creaking sound, making sure that attention would be given to it.

The whole base in itself was a most expensive one. Everything was up to date or further. The new Mark-90 rifles had just arrived the day before. What a beuatiful sight they were. Sleek and irindescent when shone to the science team at the base and built for ages to come, if they were to not be outdated by then.

They were built to confirm to most if not all needs in a rifle. The rifle was coveted by all who had seen it, and envied by all who watched its magnifisience tested at the Firing Range. Now one of the few made models of Mark-90 was now carried upon the same helicopter that carried the wrong man to the prestine island. The Mark-90 is and will serve a greater purpose, but for now its exclusivity to only twenty people was to drop out that same aircraft to land on the prestined island and to be gifted to the wrong man.