Under Rewrite

*Boom* * Heavy machine gun fire* *Boom*

" 'Damn it! Were is he?!?' a soldier shouted, 'He took out half of the platoon alre-' the voice of the soldier was cut off by well placed bullet to the throat, killing him instantly. He dropped with not a sound more.

'No!! He got James!! That son of a Bi-' another soldier fell mid sentence.'

'This isn't good. FALL BACK!! Everyone retreat! RETREAT!' The soldier who tried to take command fell to a blade as the unseen attacker quickly brought down the platoon. As the dust settled and gunfire went quiet, he stood there, not a scratch on him. Sha-' "

"Hold up," A voice cut in, " your telling me, that the platoon that went K.I.A. was done in by one man? Impossible!" the voice mocked.

"I trying to tell-" A another voice began before being cut off again.

"Your telling me that, an heavily armored platoon got done in by one man? The same man who 'saved' s town from terrorists by himself. Who the locals call Shabh alraml (sand ghost)? Jim, you can't be serious. He's a myth, a legend, he doesn't exist."

"Really Dave? How do you explain that the terrorists and our own people were done in the same way?" Jim retorted at Dave. They wore military air traffic control uniforms as they walked down a hallway back from break to their midnight watch shift.

"I don't know, maybe the locals attacked them and made the story up? How's that? Besides, I'm telling you he is a myth. Now come on, we're late for our shift." Dave said back. They reached an elevator." If anything, all the things he's apparently done like destroy bases, blow up tanks, or fighting a platoon is impossible." Dave continued as the elevator doors open and get in, "It sounds like he's from one of those anime that my kid watches or those games your kid plays." Dave finished as the doors of the elevator closed, then went up.

" 'Ana asif" (I'm sorry) A calm, cold voice rang out in Arabic from behind them. Before they could turn or even wonder who, Jim and Dave fell crumpled to the ground without a sound. As the man behind walk out of the now open elevator as it had reached the top room of the air control tower. This man was the Shabh Arlaml. As Shabh walked through the dark traffic control room, the only illumination came from the computer's screens and the light from the runway barely did anything for the room. While walking around the room Shabh discarded his sand colored cloak to revel a young man no older then 25. He was covered in miss-matched armor recovered from fallen enemies. In one hand a knife hung lousily, as if he was ready to drop it. The other held a pistol with a suppressor attached to it caked with dust. He virtually made no sound as he moved. Shabh rooted through the room and found a arrival/departure manifest. A sigh escaped the man's mouth as he walked towards the elevator once again when he realized it was to be a long night. Soon the elevator's doors opened to revel lobby of the tower lined with bodies.

"'ana asif , laqad faealt hdha , kan la bd min alqiam bih. samihani. ( I'm sorry, I did this, it had to be done. Forgive me.) " Shabh muttered to himself as he knew his road will soon come to an end. "Time to get to work."

As the sun rose, a cargo plane landed on the runway and slowed down to a stop. Out came two squads of soldiers, weapons drawn and rushed a large pyre made from stacked bodies. As they looked and gasped at the horrifying sight, what went completely unnoticed was the man sitting by the pyre with a chair next to him that had a bottle of whiskey, a metal box , and a cooler with more drinks and ice. The man just sighed, this caught the attention of a soldier.

"You! Freeze!" the soldier shouted getting the rest to notice. They point their rifles at the man who wore a beat-up chest rig and sand colored clothes. The man seem to disregard them as he continued to drink his whiskey. Almost as if they weren't there. They didn't know why but they just knew that the man in front of them was extremely dangerous, as if it was a primal instinct.

The man just stood up from his chair and walk towards the pyre, reached into his pocket and took out matches. Slowly striking one and lighting the pyre. The soldiers were shocked as they watched the unknown man do it with such a calm look. With whiskey still in hand.

" 'Ana shabah alramal , laqad faealt hadha, " Shabh identified himself with his back to the marines, " wahadhih hi hikayatayu alnihayiya." ( I am the sand ghost, I did this. And this is my final tale)

The soldiers understood, who he was and what he did. they were afraid, very afraid. They watched him finish his drink. As he slowly turn around and looked them in the eye. Shabh dropped his glass. Reached for his pistol. Drew and shot a single round. The soldiers returned fire. As the gun shots died, the ones left standing were the soldiers, with fear in their eyes. Shabh may have only fired one round, but to them they were the ones who fell, they were the ones who died.

Once the soldiers calmed down, they searched the place were Shabh sat. What they found astonished them to no end. No traps, no bombs, nothing. They found beer in the cooler as if it was for them. And in the box, was evidence that damned several men, all of whom were trying to start a war for an oil pipeline so that they could be rich. And the will of Shabah Alramal, asking for his body to be burned with the rest and to be forgotten, not to be sung as a hero, to no longer be known anymore.

"Boys!!" a commander called, "Burn his body and grab a beer. We've stop a war. We've earned it" No one said anything as they worked, soon they returned home branded as heroes, but kept quiet about the real hero. The Shabh Alramal drifted back into the sand, never to be heard again.

The legend ends here. But a new one begins.