The Spartan Chronicles

As told by Zero Heartless

I'd just like to open this by saying that this isn't all my creation. This is my spin on the story that my friends and me are making. This is not the actual story line from my friend's series, and if the Spartan Chronicles that he had envisioned ever gets made for real, it won't look like this work. Also, probably the only character that is mine is Choir, but don't use any of the others here since they are my friend's. I decided to do this fic because I just got tired of the Chronicles getting put to the side. Also, the stuff from Halo and such is not mine. That belongs to the folks at Bungee and Microsoft. Disclaimer, disclaimer, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada… (don't sue!) I would also like to say that this is not on a tangent or even a parallel with the Halo storyline (sorry to say, I don't know it since I lack an Xbox, let alone Halo the game) or closely related to Red vs. Blue (although it is humor. Choir is not related to Church). Finally, this is my first story, EVER. R&R and enjoy the Spartan Chronicles. (Sorry for the exposition)

"Got a ticket, got armor, got a gun, got a new experience coming up in a new land and I got an adventure to live out… I'm going to hate every moment of this."

Welcome to the central hub of the Central Combat Command, or CCC. This is where all Spartans get their start. After training, a soldier is appointed a team and is sent off to his home base through the central hub, a massive hangar of ships of every size and shape. This was the starting point for Choir, 24 years of age and eager and anxious to begin a new adventure. Choir wasn't like other Spartans in the sense that he had no training, no idea of what was going on, and a legacy to live up to.

Choir walked up to the callboard to find some info on where he was going. He scanned over the names of random Spartans going on their ways to wherever in the universe. Finally, he came to his name. "Hmm, here it is. Choir-----blue-----captain------Zanzibar------team:------"

This was odd. First of all, Choir had no clue where or what Zanzibar was. He hoped that the base would at least look nice or have a bathroom. Five days on a crowded transport with one toilet was incredibly uncomfortable and one bathroom between a few individuals would be a welcome change in… what was it… Zanzibar. Second of all, where were the other names on the roster for blue team? Shouldn't there have been other names on the team? Third, CAPTAIN!?!? Choir had no experience whatsoever. How could they expect choir to be a captain? Then again, the job would be easier without a team only having to watch himself, but still, what the hell! Finally, there was the matter of being a blue. This brought memories of his brother.

Choir's older brother, Sacer, was a prodigy on the battlefield. In his military career, he had never lost a single team member in action. He was the ace captain of blue team, which, at the time, was a highly prestigious elite group. His quick thinking and faster snipe shot earned him the nickname the "Blue Blur." Then came the fateful day that his team was sent on it's final mission. Sacer got this mission because of a jealous superior, CrazyJak. CrazyJak was the head of the CCC in Sacer's sector. Sacer had a tendency to disobey orders from CrazyJak in order to perform a more effective tactical maneuver. CrazyJak took out his frustration by taking out Sacer. The last mission that Sacer's team went on was terminal. They had to deactivate an Elite super weapon set to fire at a tactical hotspot. CrazyJak knew that whatever team took this mission would be annihilated, so the task fell to Sacer.

After all was said and done with Sacer's demise, CrazyJak thought he was done with it, but it turned out that in the rules of the CCC, in the case of the total annihilation of a team, the next of kin of the old leader would take up the captain position of the team. This is the whole reason that Choir wound up in this position, a fluke in the protocol of the system that couldn't be changed.

Well, at any rate, why not ready himself for the coming trip? Choir had 10,000 credits to his name. There were all sorts of places in the hub to purchase any last-minuet provisions. SMGs for cheap, rocket ammo for 6,000 apiece, high-end sniper rifles, magnums, and vehicles on surplus discount. A man bumped past choir on this right. He turned to face him.

"Hey buddy. You new 'round here," asked the man. "Yeah," Choir admitted his noobness. "Well, I suggest you head to station C down the way. They got one last Warthog going for 10,000 credits. Better hurry while you have a shot." "Wow. Thanks, friend!"

Choir ran off to platform C to cash in on a sweet deal. He finally arrived out of breath and asked thee merchant if he still had the jeep in stock.

"Yeah, it hasn't moved all day. You want'er?"

"Hell yeah," Choir reached for his cash when he realized that something was missing. "Oh no, don't tell me…"

"If ya ain't got the money, get the hell out."

ATTENTION. NOW BOARDING TRANSPORT 7354-AER FOR ZANZIBAR. NOW BOARDING. LAUNCHING FROM PLATFORM Z.

"Oh crap."

Choir took of like a flash to try and catch his transport. This would be so much easier with a Warthog. A minute later, the man from before came to the C shop. "One Warthog please. I have 10,000 credits right here."

Choir reached the transport just in time. The marathon nearly killed him, even with the easy movement of the armor. The transport was small, cramped, and rickety-looking. To top it off, the system was unmanned, just on autopilot. He was pushed into his vessel and flung into the reaches of the final frontier.

"Yeah, I knew this was going to suck."

Well, there you have it. The first chapter of the Spartan Chronicles. Hope you liked it. Don't forget to drop a comment.