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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.
Halo: Strike Team Razor: Part 3
Sand was being kicked everywhere by the high velocity impact of spikes. "Jackson, Faylin, get your asses over here!" Tailor commanded. At that moment, a spike slammed into the exposed fatigues between Donely's chest and shoulder plate. He cried in pain as his flesh sizzled. The bolt was searing hot. The smell of burning skin was in the air. "-blam!-!" Tailor roared over the COM channel.
"Sounds like someones in a bad mood.", Jackson said. Behind his blue visor was a sly grin. "Your an -blam!-.", Faylin replied." "I get that a lot." Jackson remarked. There was no sound of exhaustion in their voices as they ran down the hallway at full speed.
As the two ODSTs went to round the corner, Faylin began to say "Maybe if you weren't such a p-", but right at that moment, a colossal hammer rounded the edge of the turn and slammed into Jackson's leg. He let out at long GHAAAA as he spun around and dropped to the floor.
Faylin rolled forwards, threw his battle rifle across the floor, and quickly pulled his shotgun of his back. He was an animal with the shotgun. He could empty a shotgun faster than any other ODST. He was a legend.
Faylin was he was firing and pumping the shotgun like lightning. The shells were hitting the metal floor like rain. The pellets just pinged off the brutes shields. It was clad in shining blue armor. It roared and charged Faylin. The brute was fast, but Faylin was faster.
Faylin rolled right under the brutes legs. He had already reloaded his shotgun, and was now running backwards down the hall, launching lead out of his weapon like hail. " WHY WONT YOU DIE!?", he screamed.
The brute wasn't able to stop himself after Faylin rolled under his legs. He had smashed into the wall, the impact sent him to the floor, where he was now scrambling to stand back up. The lead was pinging off the brutes shields, which seemed to be impervious to his weapon. Faylin was running out of ammunition.
Donely was trying to get under the sand bags as best as he could while pulling a can of bio-foam out of his pack. Tailor was unloading his magazine on one of the brutes. Spent brass was piling up all around him.
The brutes' shields seem to be indestructible. This blue armor they were wearing was a big problem. " FAYLIN, JACKSON, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!", Tailor shouted. Things were getting bad, very bad.
The Lieutenant was going to have those two idiots' heads when this mission was over. "Busy." Faylin replied. Tailor was enraged. "WHAT IN GODS NAME TO YOU MEAN BUS-AGH!". As Tailor was screaming at Faylin, a spike had ricoshade off of his lower chest plate.
His ribs were going to be bruised for weeks, maybe even broken, but he didn't feel it at the moment. He had too much adrenaline running through his body. Tailor dug himself deeper into the sand bags. He pulled the trigger of his battle rifle and heard a click. That was his last clip.
Right as Faylin loaded his last twelve shells, The brute's shields finally flickered. "DIE YOU SON OF A -blam!-." he yelled as he fired three shells into the brutes head while it ran towards him, removing it from its shoulders. The huge beast did a front-flip and slammed onto the ground. Half the building shook. "Loose some weight buddy." Faylin said while catching his breath.
Faylin ran up the hallway towards Jackson. "Ughhh." he moaned. "Oh shut it, your an ODST." Faylin retorted. " It shattered everything in my leg." Jackson replied. "Yea well karma's a -blam!-." Faylin said. He hoisted the limp Jackson over his shoulder and continued running towards Donely and the Lieutenant.
[Edited on 07.09.2009 2:48 PM PDT]