I want to be a Spartan by assman
|
I want to be a Spartan...
Date: 9 November 2002, 1:23 pm
Jenkins sighed. Here he was again riding majestically on a brand new pelican, skimming just over the surface of one of haloís beautiful seas. He was soaring into battle and by the tone of Sargeís voice during the briefing it would be a tough one. He sighed again. He hated being a marine. He hated doing all the dirty work. Sure you got to kill all the Covenant you want and get 3 hot meals a day (so the recruitment poster said) but he wished for something more. He wanted to be a Spartan. Every time he saw them his heart lifted. He basked in their glory, wide-eyed and dreamy. His favourite was the one called Master-chief. No one knew his real name and he was only addressed by his rank. Of course he was the only one left after Reach but still there was something special about him that singled him out above all the other mark Vís. The pelican hit a high wave and the cabin jolted, knocking Jenkins out of his daydream. He thought to himself how stupid he was and how there was no chance that he could become one of the elite. Anyway he knew that they where genetically engineered. H wondered if they possessed a soul? ìETA 30 seconds boys, get readyî, echoed Foe Hammers voice around the cabin. His stomach full of butterflies, like it always was, reminded him of battle. The excitement. The thrill of the kill. He swallowed, though his mouth was dry. Sarge spoke up. ìMarines! Saddle up! Lock ëen load!î Here we go again, said Jenkins, half aloud. The drop ship descended above a semi-desert plateau. In the distance he could make out various outposts and barricades. Enemy territory. He leaped out with the other 8 or 9 marines and flicked on his mission recorder. Foe Hammer took off. They where alone. The squad of the UNSCís finest trudged along the desert path. No one spoke and they kept to themselves. They where about 100 meters away from the target when Sarge raised up his hand, signalling for them to halt. He motioned for them to form a line and proceeded to run down it giving individual orders to each man. Jenkins looked over the ridge that they where stationed on. He saw a Covenant outpost. There where around 6 or 7 grunts and a blue elite. One other grunt manned a shade pulse cannon and there was a stationery ghost parked along side it. The grunts where doing push upís while the elite barked out orders in an undecipherable tongue. Sarge dropped down beside him. ìHey Jenkins we need to neutralise that barricade if weíre gonna make any progress. I want you to concentrate on the two grunts to the left. Take ëem out with pistol fire and lob a grenade or two. You got that?î ìYes sirî, Jenkins half-shouted though his voice had a note of nervousness about it. Sarge moved down the rest of the line. He finished talking to the last marine. A new recruit, called Mendoza, but a hell of a good shot. He signalled that they where about too attack. He whispered, ë1. 2. 3!î The elite fell dead immediately from a sniper shot to the head, the tell tail white line still in the air. None of the men had a sniper rifle. Suddenly an eight-foot tall, beast of a man in full armour stormed over the hill, assault file blazing. It was master chief. 5 Grunts fell dead, mid-push up, their blood staining the sandy ground. The other two stepped up, but one was immediately felled by a burst of fire. The other made a mad dash for the ghost, jumped in and fired up the engines only to crash into the shade killing both the gunner and himself. Grunts where never taught to pilot vehicles. It had all ceased as quickly as it had begun. The marines, speechless, watched as the master chief calmly reloaded his weapons, swinging his sniper rifle on his back and kicking the dead elite on his way, just to make sure. He approached the rag tag unit of battle-hardened veterans who at the moment looked like a bunch of schoolboyís drooling over the latest video game. Wide-eyed Jenkins ran up to him, as did the others, and they fell into line. The Sarge spoke. ìGood after-noon sir.î (I only got halo a couple of weeks ago and my mate referred me to this site, which is great by the way. I looked through some of the fiction, of which some was very good and I decided to have a go myself. Tell me what you think. I will be continuing this story when I have the time. Be aware that I wrote it in about 10 or so minutes so it may not have been great. please email me @ armegedenisnow@hotmail.com)
I want to be a Spartan Chapter Two
Date: 20 November 2002, 8:15 pm
The sun was high in the sky casting small and discrete shadows on the band of warriors, trudging through the sand. They where sweating profusely and some of them had trouble to walk. Master chief was at point, closely followed by Jenkins. He kept asking the chief questions. Like what his armour was like and how hard it was to flip a scorpion. That master chief was smiling under his helmet. He liked this kid. He had to make sure he didn't get hit.
They carried on walking. It was quiet, too quiet. Silently, without the others noticing, Mendoza at the back was taken away from the group, a firm and scaly hand over his mouth. He was dragged into a corner, behind a rocky outcrop. Out of nowhere 3 gold elites appeared, each one brandishing a plasma sword. Mendoza, although a new recruit, knew what they could do to a man. The first one bent over. He took away the marines weapons, breaking his rifle in half. Mendoza wondered if they where going to interrogate him. He looked up at the elite closest to him, obviously the leader. It laughed, a blood curdling laugh and promptly smashed Mendoza over the head, knocking him out cold.
The rest of the squad wandered on oblivious. Jenkins kept in conversation with master chief all the time. He was starting to get on the chiefs nerves now. As they moved on they found a couple of small patrols, nothing serious. One of the marines got minor plasma burns from a pack of grunts they found, feeding on a dead animal. The thing was that it was rather quiet. The brief said they would have to face heavy resistance all the way through, until they reached the ammo dump and command centre. Master chief was meant to have gone in from the back. There he would have faced much resistance but this way he thought he could relax a little. At least for a rest and nourishment. After about 3 hours of endless hiking they stopped under a giant tree. They drank from their flasks and had some k-rations. Peterson explained how k-rations had been used since the early 20th centaury. They still tasted as bad as the used too. One of the men came running from a small clump of bushes. "Has anybody seen Mendoza?" he asked to no avail. The men spent 30 minutes or so looking for him and calling for him, which the chief thought was extremely dangerous. But try as they might they couldn't find him and had to make the painful decision to go on without him. They trekked on.
After another hour of walking and scanning the horizon for any sighn of Mendoza they approached a small desert basin. There were a few bushes around the outside and a steep cliff all around, except for their entrance. In the open was the toppled warthog around the centre of the clearing. There were a few marines scattered around it, obviously dead, but one, lying half way in the warthog, was clearly moving. The marines moved up to him, following master chief perfectly as they checked the surroundings for danger. "I though we are the first humans to enter this part of the ring", Foley said, "What was a scout group doing here. I though we where the scout group!"
Master chief shook his head. Something stank but he wasn't sure what. They reached the light assault vehicle, which was in tatters but still looked drivable, and pulled out the marine, who was trapped inside. It was Mendoza! He opened his mouth "Trap" he whispered, "it's a Trap get out." Master chief spun around assault rifle ready to fire. No one was in sight, human or alien. He looked back at the marine who was obviously badly wounded. He wondered what the hell was going on. He heard a sound. Like air being released out of a balloon. Suddenly from nowhere elites started popping up on the edges of the clearing. The marines cried in dismay. Jenkins held up his rifle to shoot but chief grabbed it. "No point", He said, "we're surrounded."
(Thanks for reading again. I reckon I am going to post a new part of this story every fortnight or so, each one of similar length. I hope you all like it! I am hoping to write two or three more chapters to this particular story and hen will write my version of halo 2. Which will involve new friends and a common enemy. But for now I'll concentrate on this so enjoy. Oh I spent around 20 minutes or so on this so take that into account if u think it sucks. I promise my 'proper' story will be of a much higher calibre.)
-assman, armegedenisnow@hotmail.com
|
