- MaxRealflugel
- |
- Elder Mythic Member
The defence of Reach. As seen through the eyes of Forky, a true hero.
Forky lurched round the next corner, instantly spotting a trio of Hunters, all with their unprotected backs exposed. He revved his hydrogen/electric power plant to full power and raised his newly sharpened hydraulic forks to waist height.
He had to admit, Carter's plan was bold. Jorge had managed to hold off his addiction to Wensleydale cheese just long enough to trick the Covenant assault force into marching inside the protective walls of the ONI operations building. And now they were exposed to a highly ambitious flanking manoeuvre.
Forky was pleased that he had been chosen over a Spartan. Initially, Emile had been first choice for the daring counter attack, but he had complained about not having enough time to shave his collection of Sangheili testicles. Most of his missions prior to the Covenant assault on Reach had been filled with amassing a fine collection of the Elite's golden danglies, most of which had been used to teabag Kat on numerous occasions, but that had landed him in severe hot water and on the receiving end of a -blam!- harassment charge.
Forky surveyed the scene before him. Over two hundred Grunts had made their way through the breach in the wall, pouring in like a flood of ants. Elites, Jackals and Hunters quickly followed behind, each of them intent on keeping their testicles intact.
Confident none of the Covenant troops had spotted him; Forky gunned his engine to maximum power, built up a surge until his capacitors were on the verge of exploding and then charged forward. Despite his more than capable power plant his approach was whisper quiet, just like the new XBOX 360. Forky pushed the thought to the back of his boxy headhe'd have time to play later.
With a steely determination, Forky ploughed into the nearest Hunter at a mind-numbing 24 miles per hour. The top-heavy walking tank staggered backwards into its fellow bonded brothers, both of which were currently occupied with the newest edition of Worm Weekly . All three toppled over into a helpless heap.
With the initial threat neutralised, Forky powered on towards a line of Jackals. Bullets pinged off the shimmering wrist-mounted shields as they marched forward as one, ugly as sin, unit. They were clearly confident behind their shields, forky thought. If only they knew what was about to hit them.
Two of the bird-faced creatures (both retired extras from Sesame Street) became forky's new mascots as the pair were impaled on his gleaming forks. The rest were either smashed aside or trampled under his 24 inch chrome rims, complete with spinners for that ultimate pimped out look. All that remained now was a squad of eight Elites, who by now were aware of the rearward counter attack and had taken cover behind a statue of Sgt Johnson's ego.
One Elite, clearly desperate to catch the next episode of Dr. Who, made a run for it. But Forky was on him like garlic on a French man, mowing him down like wheat. The rest opened up with their plasma rifles, peppering Forky's metal hide with plasma.
That was it. Forky was mad. Almost as mad as Gordon Ramsey in Hell's Kitchen. He turned with the grace and agility of a humpback whale on crystal meth and then ploughed into the statue whilst whispering the conclusion to Halo 3.
Knowing that he was destined to die in the third Halo game, in a scene where the camera angle makes him look like someone with Scabies, Johnson's ego toppled over onto the remaining Elites, reducing them to alien pancakes.
With death staved off, at least for the moment, Forky headed back to Noble team who were currently trying to pry Noble Six''s helmet off as he was the only one who hadn't shown his face yet.
"Well done, Forky," smiled Carter. "Well Done."
[Edited on 09.10.2010 4:52 AM PDT]