Note: Hmmm, the characters seem a little OOC, but that's alright cause' A) I'm sick (yes, thnx for all the applause I know I'm to nice writing this with such a bad cold and all… ^_^) and B) this is supposed to be funny fanfic though I have an idea at how to continue… I know there's a bunch of holes that someone could pilot a small asteroid through but don't get picky. PLZ. Anyways, for those of you who are curious this takes place during the third book. Think of it as a "what if?" scenario.
Oh yeah, it's short, tell me to continue it, I'm planning on leaving it as a one-shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own Halo. (or do I?… Muhahahaha!) (If ya really wanna know go to my other fic, From the Ashes)
VVVVVV
Prologue
VVVVVV
Pain.
Pain was a state he had come to acknowledge as inevitable as the rising sun… a need similar to breathing. He had experienced it in all it's multitude of glory and goriness, from the small bruises received while playing 'king of the hill', the fever he had gotten at four, the rigorous training he had received to become a Spartan candidate, the bullet wounds, the plasma burns, the smouldering shrapnel… throughout all of it he had never whimpered, never cried. He had vomited, but never complained, he had passed out, but never given up. He couldn't. He was a Spartan.
But the pain he was going through at the moment rivalled anything he had ever felt before, eating away at him like a tidal wave of red hot irons and to compound the problem he was suffering a monstrous indignity: he was sick.
"You're sick."
That was his A.I., at the moment located in his MJOLNIR armour, a specialized suit of both Covenant and human technology. Using the usual shade of combat gear it was mainly green with shades of black located in grooves and at joints, his facial helmet had a reflective visor that stunted or magnified the amount of light coming in depending on his whims, at the moment it was at a neutral yellow… he doubted anyone could see his eyes.
"That's impossible…" he started hacking. ~Great,~ he thought tiredly, ~betcha Dr. Hasley never thought this would happen did she?~
Unfortunately this nightmare was real, somehow, through some fluke of fate, after killing thousands of a extremist-oriented religiously fanatic aliens and coming out basically in the same number of pieces he had come in… he was being downed by a cold. A small little cold, a bacterium or virus that his augmented immune system couldn't handle. The irony of it all defied the odds of…
"Ah… AH…"
~Ah shite. Where's the Kleenex?~
"-CHOO!"
Great. There was snot under his visor. If he saw Dr.Hasley ever again he was going to have a little word with her about the design specs on the MJOLNIR armour…
"Yuck… that stuff's all over my a central component of my processing u…"
He ignored her.
He was just too damned tired. A cold? A COLD?! Come on, he was John-117 wasn't he? The best, the luckiest, the most kick-ass Spartan that ever came into existence?
He sneezed again.
He left his pride where it belonged: down the toilet. With a sigh he proceeded to take off his helmet. Now where did the goddamn soldiers store their medical equipment? He was quite sure that the pig-mouthed marines or the OSDT's would bother to carry any tissue boxes… maybe he could use some gauze strips…
"Cortana… what's… my temperature?"
He started coughing again, reflexively, using a motion taught to him nearly twenty years ago he raised his hand as a curled fist and brought to his mouth to 'stop' the germs from spreading. Damn, this was serious; he usually was in control of his actions… that definitely was not on his to do list. Who the hell put up their hand when no one in the next fifty thousand mile (at least) radius couldn't see him. Who else was on this god-forsaken pelican in the middle of nowhere?
"John get the damn stuff off… ohmigodyourrunningafeveratnearly50degreescelsius…" Cortana started speaking faster and faster and faster, since her internal processor nearly reached the goal of one billion calculations per second she tended to speed up when she got excited. Kind of an adrenaline boost for A.I.'s.
~Waitasec. Did she say fifty degrees Celsius?~
John fainted. Content in the knowledge that he should be dead. As the lights went out his brain set off to work on the only image the only memory that still existed in his head:
"You're a sissy, soldier! Show me some spine!" Mendez's voice, somehow sounding over four hundred thousand light years distance.
"Sir, yes sir!"
For a second Cortana looked down at 117 confusedly, did he say something? She shrugged her immaterial shoulders, the big hunk by all rights should be dead…
He mumbled something again.
She heightened the sensitivity of the receptors…
Still nothing…
Suddenly warning klaxons went off.
"…"
"WHAT THE HELL?! He's flatlining?!"
"…"
"Shhiiit! Dr.Hasley is sooo going to kill me…"
John on the contrary of what most might think at the moment was NOT dead. Subconsciously he heard her and murmured again what he thought of the A.I.:
"…"
VVVVVVV
My first attempt at a (relatively) humorous fic. This probably will not be occurring again for a number of reasons, 1) I am sick (as I mentioned before) and therefore am NOT thinking properly. 2) I don't have a second reason, I just feel like putting a non-existent one up. 3) (yes, I'm in the sweet realm of tomorrow) I'm not that good at jokes (you know that kid who tries to say something witty and then everyone turns to look at him and thinks, "who's that loser?" That's me!! ^_^)
Don't flame. I'm sick and I don't feel like listening to a loser tell me to stop writing. (yes, I feel pathetic enough to get mean enough and start retaliating which might, incidentally, not be a good thing… ^_^)
If your wondering… I AM SICKK!!! (And don't tell me to stop proclaiming it, I'm a attention-hog (yup, my only vice ^_^) and I loooovvvee saying, specially' when it's true!
^_^;
Sidenote: I am completely aware OSDT's don't usually board pelicans and that John probably already got a cold in his life… but, this fic is basically how I feel. Real crummy.
AH-CHOO!
*sniffle*
(Thanks for the Kleenex MC!!)
-_-;
(The reviewer and not the Master Chief)