They're Random, Baby!

Fan Fiction

Zan 'Socromee Chapter 4
Posted By: Hank Williams
Date: 23 March 2007, 5:10 am

Read/Post Comments

     Even losing an arm would not stop a Brute completely. The one-armed Brute smiled at Zan, who sighed against the wall, and looked at his two Plasma Swords, then looked back up at the Brute. The Brute winced in pain for a split second. His stump of an arm was still bleeding, but he would make sure that Zan would suffer an even more painful wound.
     "Scared, yet, Elite?" The Brute asked, wincing again.
     "Never," Zan said, and immediately turned on his shields and pushed off the wall.
     He head-butted the Brute in the stomach, who dropped his Plasma Rifle and flew backwards. Zan immediately stood straight and jumped for his Plasma Swords. The Brute landed on the ground on his back and skidded a few feet, then stood up again as Zan grabbed both Plasma Swords. Zan looked straight at the Brute.
     "Scared, Brute?" Zan asked, glaring at him.
     The Brute smiled and opened a pack on his belt, showing Zan nearly ten Plasma Grenades. Zan's eyes widened as he knew what the Brute was going to do. The Brute grabbed a Plasma Grenade, ignited it, ran toward Zan, and placed the ignited Plasma Grenade back in his pack. As the Brute neared the shocked Zan, he leaped toward him, hoping to pin him down. Zan jumped out of the way of the Brute, who promptly exploded in a massive explosion of fiery blue plasma. As Zan was jumping he sincerely hoped that there were no other Plasma Grenades on the ground. Much to his disappointment, there was a series of other explosions behind Zan, which threw him against the wall, causing his Plasma Swords to go flying in another direction. As Zan landed on the ground, he was knocked unconscious.

     Zan awoke to a Council Chamber that was horribly scorched with several chunks of bodies lying around, and no sign of anything living. He looked around before getting to his feet, several bones cracking. Zan felt rather soar and stretched his arms back, and then brought them forward. Cracking his neck, he walked over to his two Plasma Swords and grabbed them, stowing them away for later use. As he turned to exit the Council Chamber, he looked down at the various red Brute Plasma Rifles lying on the ground. Zan stared at them for a moment, thinking. Then, Zan's eyes widened as he bent down and picked up two Brute Plasma Rifles, one in each hand. He nodded his head, and chuckled to himself, going over to the Council Chamber door. As Zan neared the door, he expected it not to open, but it did. As it did, several Carbines, Plasma Rifles, and Plasma Pistols leveled to Zan's head, aswell as a Beam Rifle. Zan jumped back an entire foot and aimed his Brute Plasma Rifles. As he did, seven Elites, three Minor Domos, a Major Domo, two former Honor Guards, and a Zealot entered, pointing their weapons around the Chamber. The Zealot told the other Elites to lower their weapons. The three Minor Domos carrying dual Plasma Pistols lowered their weapons and looked at Zan, very pleased to see him. The Major Domo, carrying dual Plasma Rifles lowered his weapons aswell, nodding his head to Zan. As the Honor Guards entered behind the rest, they, too, lowered their Carbines, also pleased to see Zan. The Zealot, holding his Beam Rifle, motioned to Zan that it was all right.
     "Pleased to see you, Councilor," The Zealot said, bowing to him.
     "As I am glad to see you, what is going on?" Zan asked, looking around.
     Zan noticed the sudden sadness that claimed the Elites, as they lowered their heads.
     "The Prophets… they have betrayed us, Councilor. The Brutes have sided with them, still following the lies of the Great Journey," The Zealot looked at the floor, shaking his head.
     "What of the others? Grunts? Jackals?" Zan asked, moving toward the Zealot.
     "We do not know yet which side they will take – but surely the Grunts will side with us," the Zealot placed a fist on his chest. "The Grunts would be wise to do so, as we have led them for many years to glorious battle."
     "So, what do we do?" Zan asked, looking at all the Elites.
     "We… we stand… and we fight. The war that began in the Age of Conflict shall begin again… and this time, the Prophets, and those blind enough to follow them, shall all be beheaded," The Zealot exclaimed, looking to the other Elites, who all roared.
     The Zealot's expression quickly changed back to sadness. "We have lost many Councilors and many more brave warriors. This… this reason… is the one of many reasons why we must stand up against our former Hierarchs, brothers!" The Zealot clenched his fist and raised it into the air. "We will bring the fight to them, and we shall win it!"
     The other Elites all raised their fists in the air and roared. Zan watched as this was all going on.
     "What say you, Councilor?" The Zealot looked at Zan.
     Zan looked at the Zealot then down at his Brute Plasma Rifles. He looked back up at the Zealot and nodded.
     "Let us roll a few heads, brothers!" Zan said, raising one of his Brute Plasma Rifles in the air.
     The other Elites nodded and the Zealot pointed to the door. "Come! Brothers! Now is our time!"
     The Zealot ran out the door, holding his Beam Rifle, followed by the other Elites. Zan stood for a moment, and looked over the Council Chamber, and thought. Everything was coming down around his ears. The Covenant has split and the Council is dead. The newly assigned Arbiter was not even here to help them fight. Surely he was dead. Zan shook his head and walked out the door, following the other Elites.

     As Zan got outside into the large courtyard, which stretched from the far tower on the opposite side to the Council Chamber door. In the middle of the wide bridge was a fight. Several Brutes were fighting and throwing grenades at a large amount of Elites holding off the Council Chamber against them. The Elites had set up two turrets and were manning them, firing vigorously. The Brutes were attempting to simply out power them. As the other Elites that Zan was with previously ran into the battle, Zan stepped forward and aimed his Brute Plasma Rifles. He knew he could not hit a target from this distance, but that was not the point. Zan squeezed the triggers on both and fired seven plasma volleys from each weapon. The red streaks raced toward the battle, and as if Zan had predicted, a Brute stood up from behind the barricade to throw a Plasma Grenade. The red plasma bolts zoomed toward the Brute, who noticed them, but too late. He was hit with three of the bolts in his face, and two bolts hit his Plasma Grenade, which he had just turned on, while the rest of the bolts zoomed behind him and hit the ground. The Brute fell backwards, but his Plasma Grenade went off before he even hit the ground. The explosion was massive, as there were also several Plasma Grenades in the pouch on his belt. Chunks of metal and pieces of Brute, aswell as hot plasma, flew through the air. One weapon-holder flung into another Brute, pushing him against the pillar and breaking his spin. As the weapon-holder fell to the ground, the Brute slumped to his knees and crumbled to the floor. As the battle raged in front of him, Zan stared. He grinned to himself, knowing that the Brutes would not win this day. He raised his head and leveled his weapons, and ran toward the battle, roaring loudly.