 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
ROUND-THINGIE 2: The Sequel
Posted By: Matt Anderson<raptorv22@hotmail.com>
Date: 22 January 2003, 3:19 am
Read/Post Comments
|
Through a chain of intergalactic events Round-Thingy was discontinued, due to Ho Slamma's untimely hemorrhoid failure. All is well, however, as the Frame-Runners rebooted the x-box in the near future. This is after Round-Thingie, after the Chief goes home after fighting the Parliament. This is...
ROUND-THINGIE 2: The Sequel (Now With Spell Checky Goodness And Extara Vowels foor Easay Readinig.)
Scene One: Prelude
The Master Chief awoke to the sound of bells. Sirens. Warning sirens, much similar to what you would here in France, or your local Mexican bistro. He awoke easily- never completely asleep, as he had been trained for alertness back in Clown School. But that was all behind him now.
It was quiet, beside the brain-numbingly loud sirens blaring in his ears. Space has that effect. As far as the Chief could hear, he was alone. He had been in cryogenetic sleep for the past 8 months, mostly to keep his skin looking young and beautiful. Cortana had shoved him in the meat freezer to shut him up and stop his incessant "Are we there yet?" questions.
They had docked some time ago. No doubt Cortana had already notified the fleet of their arrival, and obtained a debriefing. Or.. Had he...
"FRICKIN' CHRIST, I LEFT CORTANA IN THERE!" He wrested with his helmet, throwing himself on the floor and wriggling endlessly, in a vain attempt to save cortana from the evil clutches of the steel titanium alloy prison.
"Chief, em.. Hello? Chie- ...CHIEF. MC. STOP IT!" the Chief looked up to see cortana's image shimmering and floating a few feet in front of him. He had remembered after all. He stood up, an straightened his helmet. "Yeah, I was just doing my stretches. You know what the chiropractor said, 'Vaseline makes excellent-"
"Shut up. We have a problem. The Parliament are surrounding earth with giant fleets of capitol ships and Smash-me fighter escorts. The UNSC is engaged, and waging war on planet with small nuclear devices and NERF cannons. Keyes is here for your briefing."
Keyes? Wasn't he captured by the Mud and transformed into a Martha Stewart doll? "But that's.. That's impossible!"
"Impossible my left bunion, Master Chief." Keyes appeared on a video monitor to his left. "How are you? For gods sake shut up! You didn't shut up when I briefed you in the last story now for gods sake give a man some peace while he tries to tell some ignorant Spartan about his new PJANSIE Mk. II armor!"
"PJANSIE Mk. II? I have new armor?!" The Chief was literally bouncing up and down with joy, stripping his armor off.
"Yeah. Unfortunately it's the same thing with a different helmet style and cool new details like paint chips. But you'll treat it like the power armor it is. Or my name isn't Samuel B. Harris."
Scene Two: Descent.... Into madness!!
In his Stylin' new PJANSIE armor, the chief strode down the corridors of the ship. His mission was to hand on one of the Parliament Cap Ships, Hijack it, and fly it towards planet. As he passed the armory, he grabbed a modified Rifle from an unfurling gun rack. Cortana monitored the Battlenet, offering advice and reassurances to the panicked mimes on the planet surface. Naturally, there wasn't much to say. Mimes don't talk that much.
He reached the Airlock and walked to the door lever. Securing himself against the wall, cortana quipped, "What if you miss?"
The Chief thought about this for a considerably long time. He hadn't thought of that before. If he missed, he would suffer a particularly painful death as he burned in the planet's atmosphere upon reentry.
"Then we're screwed." He pulled the lever, and braced himself as the door breeched unto the vacuum, sucking atmosphere out. The Chief had to fight for foothold. He glanced at the timer on his HUD, and pushed off from behind the wall and was sucked into the void. Towards Earth.
Its strangely beautiful, he thought, as he looked down upon earth. Or the remains. Multiple shock waves danced upon the surface, as Parliament ships gleamed in orbit. He looked down at the one he was suppost to rendezvous with, the e S.S. Minnowski.
As the ship rushed towards him, he prepared himself for impact. And impact he did. Hard. He crashed against the ships hull, and though it, breeching into the restrooms and finally colliding with a potty. The resulting vacuum created sucked startled Grunts, small midgets whose strange religion forced them to wear garbage cans on their backs and big noses, got sucked out into the emptiness of space.
MC stood, and looked around. Nothing but the remains of plaster toilets and fecal matter. He cocked his rifle, and walked up to the door. Locked. He shot the keypad, which then let loose its relentless death grip on the door hinges. It swung open, and the Chief burst through, running through hallways, doors, rooms, steel, concrete, randomly placed stacks of cardboard boxes, and room maids, only stopping for the occasional pillow mint. It was a brutal sight indeed.
Minutes and 28 and a half pillow mints later, the Chief reached the Armory, and, naturally, made a big scene and capped a lot of foo's who be dressin' like my man T. He be Ghetto, Chicken Legs! Best not mess with that mutha. ...Back to the story.
Commandeering a golf cart from a nearby Grunt, he drove through the hallways carrying a relatively large stack of weapons. His destination? The prisons. Upon reaching the point in question, he proceeded too, in one witnesses words, "Mercilessly slaughter innocent bystanders while hurling insults about their mothers." After the Parliament were taken care of, he released the marines, most if not all were the infamous 234th HeadBangers, an elite group of marines fabled to have slaughtered an entire regiment of Elites using only their hard heads.
The group pummeled the dead bodies of the Parliament, and shot one who resembled the Parliament attack leader, Tony Blair. Gathering weapons such as Picklers and Laser-Nerf Rifles from the dead foes, they formed up and headed towards the main command bridge.
*Note: Yes, I did tone down the story considerably since the first Round-Thingie. I took time to make this more articulate and readable, and I hope those of you who gave me poor reviews will find some shred of humor within this series, the funniest of which is yet to come. Good day.
|
