 |
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
|
|
|
Lost: Part 2- Ceramic Alloy
Posted By: MasterSushi<mastersushifp@hotmail.com>
Date: 10 February 2005, 8:16 PM
Read/Post Comments
|
Staff Sergeant Larrower gave a roar as, three by three, an army of bullets hurtled towards the startled Elite, accompanied by the load crack of an M6D. Distracted, the Elite fired the weapon clumsily, cursing at his accuracy. Too far to the left.
Remsot saw the opportunity and let his body go limp so that he would fall to the ground. A splash of plasma scorched his shoulder, a flaming wasp sting eating away, but he managed to avoid the full blast of it.
Remsot, scrambling for his life, dived behind a ruined car as the blue plasma shot towards him. A foreign pain spread over his back and he knew what had happened. Behind the car he felt around his back with his hand. His shirt was frayed all down his back and his skin was lumpy and wretched, parted by the heat of the plasma like the sea to Moses. As he fingered it, the pain grew to an excruciating agony but the adrenaline and fear gushing through him quickly dumbed it back down to a numbness.
Damn the Holy Rings! The Elite quickly prayed for forgiveness for his sacrilegious blasphemy, but he felt no other words could take their place. The Plasma Rifle hissed, dumping its waste and the Elite was forced to hide behind an number of rubbish bins under the hailstorm of bullets cutting into his grey tissue.
Shit! Larrower swore. He could no longer see Remsot or the Covenant bastard, and his team had to reload. Larrower saw the awkward position the bins were to the car. Remsot wouldn't be able to shoot the Elite, the Elite wouldn't be able to shoot Remsot and Larrower's squad couldn't see either of them.
Tedston wiped another filthy clip and slid it into the dented pistol. His breathing was heavy and he had cut his hand on a dark piece of metal on the ground. Just a scratch. But the blood kept flowing, dripping incessantly on the dark ground. He'd have to patch it up. But not now. Larrower was thinking. They were about to go for it.
He's bleeding. Amy looked across the road at John Tedston. Had he really forgotten her? Every time she looked at him, her heart sank deeper into her gut. Her muscles softened and she felt disturbingly unfocused. Helpless.
They had to make a move. Larrower glanced at Private First Class Torren. She could quickly become vulnerable on that side of the road, and they'd be more effective together. Maybe if they joined Remsot behind the car? Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Memories of his training flashed in his mind. He knew what they would do. Simple, but effective.
Remsot was scared. He felt defenceless on his own. He had never been the bravest of soldiers. It had been mainly his quick thinking and nifty shot that had got him into the Marines. Remsot switched gun hands and moved towards the left side of the vehicle. Poking his gun around the car, he leant around its shattered bumper. No sign. Where is it? he edged out of his cover, inch by inch, scanning his surroundings. Still nothing. Just a lamppost and a group of rusty bins. The bins! Remsot turned but it was too late. His shots echoed harmlessly into the sky as the Elite rushed from its cover, unarmed, and leapt at Remsot.
Remsot turned and fled, searching for cover. But it was futile.
The Elite reached towards the human and grabbed the Marine's waist. It lifted the human off the ground and smashed him, face first, into the car.
Remsot felt the eight fingers squeeze his waist. For an instant he felt a vertigo sensation as his feet left the ground but it didn't last long. Then came the crushing blow. His skin became stretched and punctured, blood flowed from a number of wounds. Luckily, the glass of the car had broken long before and Remsot's head was relatively undamaged. But what Remsot saw in the car he would never forget. A rotting and putrid head, twisted in a brutal way resting against the steering wheel. Flesh was peeling off it and a mouldering stench that could have been sent from only the Reaper himself filled the Private's nostrils. The chest of the figure was almost totally compressed, the ribs were harshly broken and several coarse bones jutted out of the body. There was no time for sympathy. Remsot awaited the killer blow.
The Elite withdrew from the Marine in surprise as three humans fired at him from behind the bins he had used for cover, firing blow after blow at his head. As they hit his helmet his personal energy shield flickered a lightning blue. Then the shower of metal drained away but for a repetitive crack of a scrawny pistol. The Elite leapt onto the bins and swept the Marine of his feet. The Marine dropped the weapon and flailed at the Elite to no avail.
Tedston dropped his weapon and flailed at the Elite to no avail. He quickly stopped.
The Elite swung the human into the nearest wall, gripping its neck.
Where is it? Tedston groped at his belt, trying to find it. Where is it?. He was pinned against the wall and air was escaping from his body. As the Elite squeezed harder, it became increasingly more difficult to replace it.
There! He found it. He clenched the rubber grip and pulled it from his belt. The ceramic-alloy blade flashed momentarily in the sunlight before being thrust into the right side of the Elite's abdomen. A dark, purple-blue blood spurted from the gash and the Elite's grip tightened, shaking now, its eyes narrowed. Then it spoke in flawless English. Its voice shaky and unstable. Pain entered the Elite's eyes. An unforgiving and relentless anguish coming from the wound in its side.
"No pathetic and trivial being can kill me." It winced, "Nor its blade." The Elite's grip tightened its tough fingers squeezing harder and harder.
"What about his woman?" the soft, female voice came from Tedston's left.
Amy clenched John's M6D pistol firmly in her hand and pressed it hard, unflinching, into the Elite's neck. Then she pulled the trigger.
There was a flash of lightning blue as the bullet tore through the Elite's shield and skin. A stringy web of shady-grey flesh flung out the other side of the Elite's neck escorting the bloodstained bullet through the air. The Elite collapsed to the ground and did not move anymore.
The dazed team rushed over to Remsot. Amy placed her fingers on his neck.
"He's breathing. Barely." They lay Remsot on the road beside the car and listened to his rough respiration, pondering their next move. Larrower moved further down the road. A Warthog? Anything? There was nothing. Not a single vehicle in sight. Or an enemy.
Amy looked up. John was staring back at her. Had he remembered her? No. But there was something else there. Something in his eyes. She glanced at his hand. "We better get you mended as well." She gave a weak smile and took his wrist.
|
