Posted By: Neile Pederson<email@example.com>
Date: 26 October 2002, 8:17 pm
Damn, the Master Chief thought. Don't you ugly little beasts every die? He had used almost an entire clip in an attempt to remove the hoard of Grunts from this rather sticky situation, to nearly no avail. He fired the last twelve shots from his MA5B assault rifle in three separate four-round bursts, each burst heading toward a different Grunt. The 7.62 mm armor-piercing shells hurtled towards the 5 feet tall Covenant foot soldiers at over 700 feet per second. At this range, the little aliens didn't even have time to mentally process that they were being shot at before the bullets tore through their light armor and fleshy bits, sparking the methane tanks integrated into their environment suits and lighting each of the cannon-fodder creatures on fire. All three fell to the steel alloy deck, roasting.
The Master Chief quickly looked up at the tactical radar display in the upper left corner of his helmet. Four more red blips; two to the left, one directly behind and one to the right. Enemies. The Chief spun on his boot heel, heard the shot before he saw it and hit the deck in less than one twentieth of a second. A bright blue bolt from a Covenant plasma rifle ripped through the air where his face had just been. He looked up and saw the feet of two Elites through a crack between two cargo containers. Both sets of feet were blue, thank whatever deity the Master Chief was supposed to believe in. He pulled a M9 HE-DP fragmentation grenade from his belt, removed the pin and rolled it through the small space. The frag grenade stopped right between the pairs of feet and a confused grunt came from behind the cargo containers. The grenade detonated and the Elites flew to opposite sides of the room, one breaking its neck against the steel bulkhead and the other landing on a trio of advancing Grunts. Two more Covenant soldiers left standing. Not for long, the Chief thought, his lips curling into a wicked grin behind his blast helmet.
The Master Chief stood up, saw out of the corner of his eye the telltale green glow of an overcharged plasma pistol. The Jackal was crouching behind an ammunition crate, energy shield held over its body, keeping all the vital organs well guarded. The Jackal stood about 5' 8" tall erect, but was no taller than three and a half feet tall crouching and was visually similar to a wing-less, feather-less vulture, a carrion eating bird of prey on Earth. The creature looked blankly at the Master Chief as the Chief switched his empty assault rifle for his M6D pistol. The Jackal moved its shield and released the trigger on its pistol. The concentrated super-hot plasma bolt screamed at the SPARTAN-II soldier, missing his head by not more than a few centimeters. He ducked and rolled to the right, activated the 2x scope on the pistol and fired. The Jackal stood there for a moment and then fell backwards, lifeless, the 12.7 mm hole between it's eyes still smoking.
The last foe was another Elite, a purple one. Standing up, the Master Chief could see that the Elite was not hiding, confident in it's own skills at close range combat. And it was blocking the only exit from the armory. The Elite stood roughly eight and a half feet tall and was vaguely humanoid, with the exceptions of the purple skin, gaping maw and razor-sharp teeth. Conveniently, the Covenant color-codes its soldiers by their skill. The purple Elites are nearly ten times the adversary that the blue ones are.
Class is in session, the Master Chief thought.
The Elite roared, it's maw opening to impossible proportions, and charged. The Chief stood motionless, switching quickly to his assault rifle. As soon as the Covenant soldier was five feet away, the Master Chief unleashed a lightning-fast blow to the chest of the beast with butt of his rifle. The Elite instantly doubled over, gasping for air. While he had this temporary relief from the wrath of the Covenant, the Master Chief ran backwards about ten feet and stopped, waiting for it to charge again. In the mean time, he scooped up a plasma grenade that one of the Grunts had dropped. The only difference between the plasma grenades and the human fragmentation grenade is the plasma grenade will stick to whatever moving or metallic object it lands on. A rather nice feature for hand-to-hand combat. Within a matter of seconds, the Elite had regained its composure and was coming at him again. This time the Master Chief ran forward to meet it, firing half of the clip he had just loaded. When the two warriors were less than four feet apart, the SPARTAN-II leapt over the Elite, booting it in the face and stuck the plasma grenade to the Covenant's chest as he flew over its head. The grenade's three-second fuse would leave plenty of time to get out of the blast radius. The genetically enhanced soldier hit the ground running, made it through the door and hid behind the bulkhead, waiting for the explosion. The detonation happened right when it should have, spraying purple luminescent blood around the room. Finally, the Chief thought. A chance to recharge my shields.
One of the greatest features about the MJONLIR armor is the energy shielding. The design structure of the starfighter-grade shield generators are similar to those used by Covenant Elites and it can usually withstand a few direct hits from a plasma rifle before it's worn down. And, as an added bonus, its recharge time is never more than a few seconds. The Master Chief stood behind the bulkhead for a few seconds, catching his breath and waiting for the shields to regenerate. Around the corner of the bulkhead, the scuffling of feet and the random, unintelligible phrases of a Grunt told the Chief that the fight was still not over yet. He waited for the sound to be at its closest point and lashed out with the butt of the assault rifle. His strike was rewarded with a sickening thud that sounded as if he had broken the skull of the unseen threat and the high-pitched cry of a dying Grunt.
Moving slowly, he peeked around the corner and saw the slain Covenant foot soldier, blue blood seeping out of its fractured cranium. Another cluster of Grunts were standing behind a storage pylon, talking in the native tongue. The Chief winged another plasma grenade into the group. The grenade landed directly in the gap between two of the little creatures, joining them until the explosive force would separate them. Terrified at their newfound proximity to their own demise, the linked soldiers ran around the far corner of the hallway just in time to be blow in the next world. Another scream, this one deeper and louder, probably that of an Elite, emanated from around the bend. Fragments of bone and metal flew across the room, colliding with walls and eventually falling to the deck plating. The Chief side-stepped to the left from behind the bulkhead, gun barrel flaring. The action of the assault weapon worked, spewing the hot empty casing out of the right side of the stock. The remaining Grunts fell to the floor, none of them with less than six 7.62 mm holes riddling its body.
The Master Chief ran towards the end of the hall, reloading his main gun simultaneously. At the end of the corridor, he rounded the bend, feet nearly sliding out from under him due to all the alien blood on the floor. The escape pod was still docked, waiting for him. When he was no more than ten feet from the pod, the maintenance access passage on the wall opposite the pod's doors opened up, revealing a gold-armored Elite wielding a plasma sword.
Come on, give up already! the Master Chief thought to himself. He trotted backwards into the escaped pod, rifle firing at the Elite. As soon as he was aboard, the Chief slapped the door seal, reloaded his rifle and looked up at the ultimate Elite. The Covenant commander roared in rage and the Master Chief responded by extending the middle digit of his right hand, making sure the Elite could see it.