Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a fan fiction set in the Halo Universe. Hopefully I didn't screw up too bad. Also, Bungie owns Halo and all that good stuff. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

I've never been much of a religious man. Sure, I sent up a few prayers whenever I felt like I was totally fucked, but I was never gung-ho about it. Some people would call me an atheist. I preferred the term 'cynical'. If you were going to survive this fucking war, you couldn't afford not to be cynical. It kept you alive. Besides, when your race was being systematically hunted down and sodomized by an alliance of genocidal aliens with vastly superior technology, you really had to question your faith. What kind of God would allow his 'creations' to suffer in such a way?

Furthermore, religion kind of screwed Humanity in the first place. It was religion that 'justified' the Covenant's reasons for killing us. It was religion that built the Halo rings, the ultimate Harbingers of Death. And it was religion that made men not fear death. It gave them some sort of assurance that if they were to die, there would be an Afterlife waiting for them. To me, fearing death is the most effective way to survive. When I was pinned down by the Flood in Voi, it was my fear of death that galvanized me into action. I saved my squad that day. Every single one of them. If I had been a religious man, I would have gathered my squad together, said a prayer, and told them to make peace with their God, for the end was near.

Also, a lot of the marines that I commanded used religion as a scapegoat to forgive their sins. They go forth with a clear mind and a clear conscience. I always wear my sins on my conscience as a reminder. If I did something wrong, then in the long run it would make me a better person. It gave most of the men I commanded the impression that I was cold-hearted. Tell me, if I made decisions based on morality, would I have survived this war? Fuck no.

There is a popular saying that there are no atheists in a foxhole. That's true; I drove a tank.

I'm not saying there isn't a God. I'm just saying that he's done a shitty job at this point.

I guess I do have one thing to thank him for.

I survived.

Author's Note: I'd also like to clarify that this by no means represents my religious beliefs, nor am I trying to bash any religion. This is actually based on a story my Vietnam veteran uncle told me a couple of years ago. Sorry if there was any confusion.