- Rare_Spartan
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- Exalted Legendary Member
oh mah gawd he be postin' spoilerz get bant
Halo: Unggoy Evolved
Part III
Chapter 1: Predetermined Rant
"They let me pick." said Cortana, "Did I ever tell you that? Choose whichever Spartan I wanted. You know me. I did my research. Watched as you became the soldier we needed you to be. Like the others, you were strong and swift and brave; a natural leader. But you had something they didn't. Something no one saw but me. Can you guess?
"Luck."
The early morning sun streamed through the canopy, and onto the foreground, where the Master Chief appeared lifeless. Two marines stared blankly at the armored figure, while the other-wearing a sargeant's cap-was facing the other direction.
"This ain't good." said one of the marines.
"Damn" the other said under his breath, "How far did he fall?"
"Two kilometers, easy."
The man in the sargeant's cap turned to face the Chief. It was him; the best of the best. Sargeant Avery Johnson.
"Stay sharp!" barked the sargeant, as he moved closer toward the gauntlet. While there were no damages to be seen on the armor itself, the demon inside appeared, again, lifeless.
"Corpsman?" said Johnson.
"His armor's locked up." replied the marine, dancing his fingers around his computer keyboard, "Gel layer could've taken most of the impact.
"I don't know, Sargeant Major."
Johnson kneeled toward the Spartan, placing a hand on his chest (feeling for breath and the like). After a quick sigh, the sargeant reached his hand back, and takes what appeared to be a chip out of the back of the Master Chief's head.
"Radio for VTOL, heavy lift gear." said Johnson, "We're not leavin' him here."
Just then, a large, armored hand grabbed the sargeant's wrist.
"Yeah. You're not." said a now motioned Chief, as if his voice couldn't get any raspier. The Spartan pulls himself back onto his feet, while the sargeant scoffs at him.
"Crazy fool. Why do you always jump?" asked a flabbergasted Avery, "One o' these days, you're gonna land on somethin' as stubborn as you are! And I don't do bits and pieces."
As in most cases, the Chief said nothing, but simply took the small chip from Johnson's hand, staring at it for a moment.
"Where is she, Chief? Where is Cortana?"
The Master Chief paused, then quickly placed the chip back into his noggin.
"She stayed behind." answered the Spartan.
"Corporal, make it quick."
"Sorry, sir." the marine said to the Chief, "Your armor's still in partial lockdown."
Master Chief examines his surroundings; plants. Lots and lots of plants, he thought to himself.
Just then, the heat-wave effect of a Covenant active camouflage came into view.
"I"ve retrieved the berries that you have-"
Without allowing the creature to finish his sentence, the Chief dashed forward, grabbed a pistol from a nearby marine, and jammed it between the mandibles of the Elite.
"Chief, wait! The Arbiter's with us!" Johnson barked.
"Come on now. We got enough to worry about without you two tryin' to kill each other."
The Spartan hesitated, though eventually lowered his weapon. The Arbiter shrugged at the Chief, and said, "Were it so easy."
"Yeah, that's right! Don't mess Arby!" exclaimed a familiar tone. From behind the Sangheili came three Unggoy. It appeared to be none other than Pillow, Fisca, and XxxPiggybackXxxx, who instead of wearing their black-coated Spec-Ops armor, now wore something relatively close to that of the UNSC marines. At least in terms of colour. (that would be a camouflaged green, folks)
"We must go." said the Arbiter, "The brutes have our scent."
"Then they must love the smell of-"
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Pillow, interupting the sargeant, "How did this story begin?"
"With the chief," answered the corporal, "Of course."
"Ok, let's get somethin' straight here. This is our story. Read the title, folks. Unggoy Evolved."
"Gee, and you wonder why we weren't included in the Legendary Edition." Fisca sighed.
"Don't worry, lads." Piggyback said optimistically, "I'm sure that if the writer milks this series long enough, we'll be included in The Cortana Chronicles: Part Deux."
The Grunt Sargeant finally awoke, greated by several UNSC marines, the majority of which staring at him like a pack of hyenas.
"Hey, he's awake!" said one of the marines.
"Wait, don't shoot!" exclaimed the Grunt Sargeant, "I come in peace."
"Man, if I had a nickle for every time I heard that, I'd be one rich son of o' gun." scoffed one of the marines.
"He could be tellin' the truth. I mean, why else would they put him in this cell?"
"Dude. It's a grunt." said a marine blankly.
"Still, I suggest we back off for now. He ain't got no weapons, first of all."
"Man, if I had a nickle for every time I heard that, I'd be one rich son of o' gun."
"Er, I think you already used that one." said the crimson-armored Unggoy.
"Hey, it ain't my fault." replied the soldier, "Both my combat and mission dialogue are limited."
"So, what do we do?"
"Well, if it'll help with you asking questions all the time," said the same marine, "Have this."
"Whadd'ya talkin' about, son? That was my first question!"
"Yeah, well, I'm just sick of listenin' to ya." the marine scoffed, tossing the Unggoy a harmonica.
The Grunt Sargeant examined the musical instrument, pressing it up against his air-breather. The following tune was that of Danny Boy.
[Edited on 10.13.2007 8:10 PM PDT]