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A Marine Named Peters: The Finale, Part Two: Peters' View
Posted By: GLADIATRRR3000<gladiatrrr3000@hotmail.com>
Date: 28 February 2004, 6:56 AM

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       Peters was still shaking off the fact that Karls was dead. He had been his only friend for weeks now, making Peters feel lonely. What made him feel even worse was that Karls was going to come back as a Flood warrior and try to kill him. He didn't know if he had the guts to kill his best friend.
       Peters grabbed his last magazine of ammo. He tapped it against his helmet to check that if was full, then jammed it into his assault rifle. '60' flashed across the screen on the MA5B, and Peters sighed. Having a weapon made him feel safer, although not much safer. He looked up to see that the rest of the 24 marines working their way slowly towards the NAV point.
       No one was talking, except for Rodriguez and Aristotle. Peters and Rodriguez were the only ones with helmets left, so they were the only ones able to communicate to the AI. He couldn't stop talking about the surge of information that was flowing through his mind, all the information on the Covenant, all the information on Halo, and most importantly, the 100% accurate map of the warship. He would talk to them for several minutes, then stray off and talk to himself, speaking much faster than any human could, speaking of things no one could understand. Peters eventually muted Aristotle's COM link, focusing more on the sounds of the undead Covenant ship.
       Several marines were praying in different languages. Peters only wished that praying actually worked. He had prayed many times for this awful war to end, only to be responded with the destruction of yet another vital planet.
       A squishing sound behind him forced him to turn. He saw a shadow, black on black, moving quickly. He pulled the trigger on his assault rifle, sending a three-round burst towards the movement. A loud SMACK sound echoed through the halls, then a loud growl. Several marines turned, raised their rifles, and opened fire. 40 bullets tore through the Flood, and it literally exploded into a pile of mush. Peters caught a glimpse of the face, recognizing it as a marine he had seen board the ship with them.
       "Get ready." Peters said, his voice filled with anger. "Here come more."
       Not even a second after Peters finished his sentence, Flood combat warriors burst out of the ceilings, cracks in the walls, and holes in the floors. Gunfire filled the air, and bullets whizzed by Peters' head. He didn't even bother to pick a target. No matter which direction he fired, he was bound to hit one. He held the trigger down, spraying automatic fire across the thin hallway. The explosive bullets were able to tear through the creatures easier than normal, but eventually they would have to reload. And when that happened, the Flood would rush them so quickly that they wouldn't have time to blink.
       "Move towards the NAV point!" Rodriguez shouted over the gunfire. "Quickly! Everyone!"
       Peters finished off his magazine, reached for another clip, and remembered that that was his last one. He turned to run when he felt something brush against his leg. He then remembered the extended magazine that a marine had given him while boarding the ship. He reached into his pocket, felt his hands grab a 20-pound weight, and pulled it out. He shoved the mammoth magazine into his gun, hoisted up to shoulder height, and opened fire.
       The kickback made Peters stumble backwards. The rounds were definitely bigger, as well. He was mowing down Flood faster than he could mow grass with a flamethrower. Lines of Flood fell before him, sending off green gore into the air. Limbs ripped off, flesh tore, bones shattered, bullets pinged off the wall, hit targets, and exploded in their soft torsos. Peters couldn't help but smile seeing the most terrifying things be destroyed.
       After 15 seconds of fire, he let go of the trigger. The rifle had overheated, rendering it useless to him. He threw down the gun, grabbed the plasma sword the Elite had given him, and turned it on. His arm was warmed up instantly, and the hallway was illuminated. Peters' smile instantly faded.
       Although he had completely destroyed dozens of Flood, he had only decimated their numbers. There were easily hundreds of them left pouring down the hallway, gnashing their teeth and flailing their arms. Peters' mouth fell open.
       The first of the Flood warriors came within arm's length of him, and Peters snapped out of his awe. He jammed the plasma sword into the Flood's gut, heard a popping sound, and the Flood liquidated. He tore the blade through three Flood warriors in one consecutive motion, sending their top halves flying backwards. He punched the blade through one's head, sliced it out, cut the legs off another, then spun around to run.
       Several of them grabbed his shoulders and tore off layers of skin. He yelled, turned around, and sliced through their faces. He was covered in green gore, and could hardly breath due to the horrible stench, but more kept coming. He took off his helmet, bashed in the skull of a Flood, kicked in another one's groin, then ripped the plasma sword through a decaying neck.
       "Peters!" he heard Rodriguez yell. "Hurry! We need to lock this door!"
       Peters ripped out the intestines of a Flood, turned, and ran for the door. He passed through the doorway, turned, and started closing the doors. They squeaked together slowly, and Rodriguez ran up and helped him close them. He put his head down and pulled the doors closed with all his might, and realized that he could never get this door closed in time. He had given up hope when...
       Karls ran up from behind him, grabbed the side of the door, and pushed. He was covered in blood, and it took Peters several seconds to recognize him. "...Karls?" Peters whispered to himself.
       He let the door slip from his fingers, in shock that his dead friend was here helping him. "I thought you were..." Peters started.
       He felt the breath leave his chest, even though he hadn't exhaled. He looked straight ahead for a second, vision blurring. He tried to inhale... but couldn't. He raised his hand, touched his chest, and looked at his palms. Blood was flowing out of his chest. He looked down, saw a gaping hole near his lung, and stumbled. He looked through the closing doorway and saw the face of Private Evans, the man who had given him the extended ammunition magazine, smiling with a decaying face.. He was holding an assault rifle, smoke emanating out of the barrel. The doors closed, and the Flood Evans was locked behind it.
       Peters fell back to the floor, vision fading. "Peters!" yelled Karls, running over.
       Karls picked him up, shook his head, and slapped his face. "Don't you die here. Not after all the trouble I went through to get back here and save your ass."
       "...I... thought you... were dead..." Peters said, pain shooting through his chest. "H-how'd you get back?"
       "Plenty of time to tell you back on Earth, friend." Karls said, smiling. "C'mon... stand up... please."
       Peters sat up. "I-it doesn't hurt.... So much... anymore... I think... think I'm getting... better..." He said, looking past both Karls and Rodriguez.
       Karls felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew Peters was going to die, but couldn't admit it. "Remember the time... remember the time when we got signed up for this mission? We were told it'd only last a few days... find Bravo Base and get back home... things sure did get messed up, didn't they?" He said, trying to laugh.
       Peters made a sound that Karls took for a laugh. "Yeah... I never forget bad memories... let's not make this one, ok?"
       Peters coughed. He looked at Karls, his eyes drooping, and struggled to get his words out. "D-d-don't... let... me... become... o-one... of... them..."
       His eyes closed, and his head fell to the side. His last breath blew through his mouth, and his muscles relaxed. He died.