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  • Subject: Strike Team Razor
Subject: Strike Team Razor
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.



Strike Team Razor: Part 1

Lieutenant Tailor opened his eyes. His visor was cracked, and the inside was spattered with blood. He tried to get up, but cried out in pain. He looked at his leg. A bolt from a brute spiker was lodged in his thigh. His vision blured. Tailor had lost alot of blood.

He took a can of biofoam from his pack, tore the spike out of his thigh, and filled the wound. He grunted and clenched his jaws as he felt a sensation like shoving a hot stokeing iron into a deep gash in ones flesh. Tailor gasped, grunted, then relaxed. He got on his feet, leening against the wall of the massive generator building. The mission, a total failure.

He removed his helmet and looked around the room, each and every one of his men....dead. They all lay in a pool of blood. The walls, spattered red. " Why am i alive, i should be dead. I should be dead like the others." He thought. The Lieutenant couldn't remember what happened. The brute threw him into the metal wall so hard he could barely see straight. He became dizzy, dropped to his the ground, and blacked out.

HQ: Debreafing after the assault on generator complex 5.
Lieutenant, can you tell me HOW YOU MANADGED TO FAIL THE SIMPLEST MISSION AND GET YOUR WHOLE TEAM SLUAGHTERED?, Screamed Graff. He was ONI brass, the kind of guy you don't want to -blam!- with. He was known for his tendancy to throw punches when in an intense enough argument. As much as the officers above him wanted to get his ass out of the ONI, he was a millitary genious. This was the first time tailor had met the guy, and he was off to a bad start.

"IT WAS A FIVE MINUTE OPERATION. THAT COMPLEX IS NOT A BIG BUILDING, AND THERE WERE SEVEN BRUTES IN THERE BUT SOMEHOW YOU STILL MANAGED TO -blam!- IT UP!" Graff yelled as he continued to verbally beat the hell out of Lieutenant Tailor. " Thats enough Graff, let the man answer your question before you make us all deff." Commander Hanery said in strong voice. It wasn't a yell, but it was powerful. Tailor saw that he had total dominance in this room.

"The brutes...their armor....the shields were impenatrable. The covenant is making advancements in their technology. Every one of our men were fireing at one brute coming through the hall, but the bullets just pinged off. It was like we were throwing pebbles." The room went silent. All around the rectangular table were ONI officers with faces of stone. Dead quiet.

" Are you sure you werent missing?" Asked Commander Hanery. " Sir, it's pretty much impossible to miss one of those freaks. Admral Fairholm stood up. " This debreafing is over. Lieutenant, im sorry about your men. Graff, Hanery, meet me in my office in ten. Good evening gentlemen.

Tailor walked down the hallway towards his teams quarters. The heels of his black dress uniform's shoes clicked on the cold metal floor. He passed through an airlock and took a left down the next hallway. The large majority of the crew on this level were in the dining hall at this hour, but the lieutenant wasn't hungry.

He opened the door to the empty bunk room. He looked around. His teams belongings at the foot of their beds, and familly pictures pinned on the walls that they looked at as they lay in bed every night. Most of them had been married with children. The Lieutenant lay down on his bunk in the back of the room, staring at the bottom of the bead above him, replaying the mission in his mind.

" Boys, its time to cook!" Tailor shouted over the team com channel. Everyone laughed. As they entered the atmosphere, the friction caused by the entry of their pods heated up the inside of the capsules until it felt like they were roasting. Thats how they got the name hell jumpers.

"WHOOOO!", private Bradely screamed over the radio. " Alright ya little bastards get ready for impact" Tailor shouted over the com. Their airbreaks unfolded, and in a matter of seconds they smashed into the earth, sending debris rocketing through the air.

They had landed where they had planned. The ODSTs kicked the drop pod's doors open and stepped out. They sweeped the area with their battle riffles. They landed within the gates of the generator complex. A building with high titanium walls standing around it. A portion of wich had been incinerated by plasma.

" Dax, get over here, i need you and Faylin to move around the left side of the building, stay behind the crates. Lets try to keep everyones heads on their shoulders alright?" The luitenant said in a confident voice. " On it", Faylin replied. Not a word came from Dax.

" Dax get your lazy ass over here." Faylin remarked. Still, not a word was heard from Dax. Taylor saw that one pod's door was not yet opened. He walked up to the front of the capsulte and tore the door off. Dax's limp body was still strapped in, his neck bent at an impossible angle.

To be continued.


Tell me what you think please.



[Edited on 06.17.2009 12:10 PM PDT]

  • 06.16.2009 4:20 PM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

Strike Team Razor: Part 2

"Sooooo, i guess il be going alone hu?" Faylin said. There wasn't a trace of dispair in his voice. " No -blam!-, now MOVE!" Tailer shouted. Faylin crouched and kept an eye on the rim rounding the middle of the complex, a perfect place for snipers.

"Jackson, i want you to do the same around the other side, Donely, you're with me. We're moving in through the front door. Jackson, Faylin, when you meet on the other side enter through the back." The ODSTs were swift, acurate, silent, deadly. "Nothin here." Faylin replied. "Same." Jackson remarked. A desapointed tone was in his voice.

Lieutenant Tailor slipped a small scope under the front door of the complex. " Clear." he stated. Donely followed him through the door. Their battle rifles were pressed against their shoulders. They couldn't wait to light something up. ODSTs weren't the kind of people who could sit around. They had a constant need for combat. They were war mongers.

Donely and Tailor moved down the hall, dead silent. It was as if they weren't even there. They had a lot of cover. The hallways were littered with sandbags placed by the group of marines who were guarding the complex. Donely herd a slight splash as he stepped down the hallway. He looked down. Blood was pooled on the floor. It was red, human blood.

Tailor signaled Donely to halt. " Get behind the sandbags, now", tailor wispered over the COM channel. Donely heard a thumping sound getting louder. It stopped for a few moments, and sped up. Something huge was running at them.

The two brutes didn't hear them, but the definetly could smell them. They rounded the corner, Huge hairy monstrosities. Each wielded a spiker. The sandbags weren't tall enough to use as a hiding place. Donely and Tailor had two options. Fight and get shot, or run and get shot in the back. "OPEN FIRE!" Tailor yelled.

Faylin and Jackson heard the staccato of a battle riffle along with Tailor's roar of a command, and not just over the COM channel. Jackson looked at Faylin and said," Sweet." They nodded at eachother and began sprinting towards the action.

[Edited on 06.17.2009 12:14 PM PDT]

  • 06.16.2009 5:33 PM PDT
Subject: ODST Series. Strike Team Razor

Hmm.
I saw your thread on The Flood.
I didn't even knew this forum existed and I've been here for almost a year.
I'm not reading all that thought.

  • 06.16.2009 7:01 PM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

Posted by: Gold Rogue Guy
Hmm.
I saw your thread on The Flood.
I didn't even knew this forum existed and I've been here for almost a year.
I'm not reading all that thought.


read one. Or maybe like half of one and see what you think. Its not as long as it looks. Most people cut stories up better. it wont take long.

  • 06.16.2009 7:14 PM PDT

Sometimes when I look at the moon at night, my mind embraces the thought of a love so vivid and true that I almost believe it is real. Then, due to my delusions, I am forced back into reality and begin to indulge myself in real life vices such as chocolates and German board games to get that once natural high.

I stopped reading when you misspelled lieutenant. If you are going to post something that you want people to read, attempt to use spell check. If this was to be posted on the Flood that would be the first thing to be posted.

  • 06.16.2009 7:40 PM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

I dont see how a mispelled word makes a story bad. Can't people just appreciate it for what it is not grammar?

  • 06.16.2009 8:12 PM PDT

I'm afraid not, grammar is essential. Trust me, I've seen countless fan fictions fail because the author is too stubborn to change their ways and use a spell checker.

  • 06.16.2009 11:11 PM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

weak

  • 06.17.2009 6:36 AM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

Ive used spell check and corrected the stuff, so id be cool if you could read it now please.

  • 06.17.2009 10:14 AM PDT
Subject: Strike Team Razor
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

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 somones in a bad mood.", Jackson said. Behinde 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 Jacksons 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 runing out of ammunition.

Donely was trying to get under the sand bags as best as he could while pulling a can of biofoam out of his pack. Tailor was unloading his magazine on one of the brutes. Spent brass was pileing up all around him.

The brutes' shields seem to be indestructable. 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 ricochade 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 as 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 wieght 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 06.17.2009 2:58 PM PDT]

  • 06.17.2009 11:57 AM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

I spell checked this stuff. Tell me if you find any errors and il correct them.

  • 06.17.2009 11:58 AM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

sry accident. reposted story

[Edited on 06.17.2009 12:01 PM PDT]

  • 06.17.2009 12:00 PM PDT
Subject: ODST Series. Strike Team Razor

Posted by: Shot Spartan
If this was to be posted on the Flood that would be the first thing to be posted.

It would have been something like TL;DR or China called...

  • 06.17.2009 3:04 PM PDT
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When life gives you lemons, ferment them and get drunk.

Part four is done. it only needs edditing. i might hold it for a while until more people read these. if any have haha.

  • 06.17.2009 9:34 PM PDT