John-117, or more commonly known as the Master Chief, ran from the fort. It was about ready to detonate, and he didn't want to be there when it did. He was too slow. The fort exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. John was hurled with such force that he exited atmosphere.
A wormhole.
John scrambled to get away, but there was nothing to hold on to. He would enter the wormhole and be ripped across the space-time continuum. He continued to struggle pointlessly until he finally passed through the wormhole. It was swift, but his armor was still torn from his body. Now he was dressed in a glorified space suit. He saw a planet and dove. It was the only thing he could do, otherwise he'd drift until his oxygen ran out. He entered atmosphere and his space suit began to smolder. Fire appeared at his head, and he was soon wearing nothing but his boxers. The fire faded, and he began a free-fall toward a lake. When he splashed into it, he heard voices.
"What in God's name was that?"
"Sir! The falling star's in the water!"
"Move aside, men!"
John finally made the climb out of the water, and looked up. In front of him were over two hundred men. Every one of them was dressed exactly the same. They all wore hide underwear, but no pants or shirts. They wore bronze greaves, wrapped about their shins with leather strips. Attached to these greaves were thick-soled leather sandals. The most striking pieces of clothing, though, were their helmets and capes. Wrapped about each set of shoulders was a red cape, clasped about three inches to the right of perfect center and fastened under the arms with a leather strap. The left side of each cape was allowed to fall over the left shoulder, while the right side was behind. Their helmets were round at the top, and ended at the base of each man's skull. They had faceplates with angled rectangular eye slots that joined and went straight to the bottom of the faceplate, which curved along the men's jaw lines. John knew these men. He had learned about them at least a dozen times on Reach during his training.
These were the Three Hundred Spartans.
At the 300's head was their king, Leonidas. He stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"The Mas- John." John had been about to say, 'The Master Chief, Spartan-117,' but that would have been ill-advised and strange to the 300.
"Well," Leonidas said, "We've been waiting for you. Get your armor on and let's get to Thermopylae."
/\
John hefted the brass shield. It was, to his enhanced strength, light as a feather, especially when compared to his solid grade-A titanium armor he had carried around for three decades, and the many Covenant troops he had thrown around the battlefield, or that Scorpion tank he had stopped from toppling into a canyon. The six-foot spear was no different. In fact, John made a split-second decision and strapped three more spears to his back. Once John had his helmet, cape, greaves, spears, sword, and shield, he leaned against the canyon wall. A few hours later, the rest of the Spartans awakened and prepared themselves. Before all of them were even ready, John heard a sound. He couldn't quite make out what it was until it got closer. It was marching, the marching of the tens of thousands of Persians that were approaching the Spartans' position. After a few minutes, Leonidas approached John, who was a bit separate from the main body of Spartans.
"Do you hear that?"
John nodded.
"Can you tell what it is?"
"Marching," John said. He said it as though Leonidas was already supposed to know that, forgetting for the moment that his hearing was far superior because of his physical enhancements. "The Persians approach."
Leonidas cast his eyes down. He had known that, but John thought perhaps he didn't want to accept it. After a moment of that, he turned back to his men.
"The Persians approach!"
The Spartans looked up, most of them with grim determination on their faces, some looking quite eager. John looked over the force.
"A formidable troop you've gathered here, Leonidas."
"Agreed."
As John's eyes passed over a gap in the group of men, he saw a small pass through the mountains.
"We need to cover that up. Cause an avalanche or something."
Leonidas looked at the pass.
"Not necessary. The Persians do not know about it."
"But when they engage, they'll see it behind our lines and order a scout to report the rear of the army. From then, just a matter of time before the enemy begins pouring out of there."
Leonidas thought for several moments. The marching got louder. "Do it."
John sprang into action, and the other Spartans looked at him in amazement. He was moving faster than any normal human could, and the fact that he was climbing made his enhanced strength apparent as well. When he reached the top of the mountain, he began looking for large rocks. He immediately found some, and began kicking them toward the pass. They piled up, some rolling out into the Spartans' ranks. John heard Leonidas yelling, and the other 299 Spartans began to push them back into the pass. John continued to drop rocks, but he was eventually forced to drop much smaller ones. Finally, he had to jump across the pass to continue. After perhaps fifteen minutes, the pass was mostly closed. John moved to the other side of the pass again, and moved farther in search of his rocks. After several more minutes, the pass was no longer a pass, though the Persians could be seen now. There were thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands. John jumped down to a ledge, then another, and finally to the rest of the Spartans. When the Persians appeared around a corner, Leonidas shouted.
"Shield wall! It's time!"
/\
John interlocked his shield with two other Spartans, completing the shield wall. Just as he did, arrows began to rain down on their position. The front rank was protected by the upturned shields of the second rank, them by the third, and so on. As a result, most of the arrows bounced harmlessly off their brass shields. Those that did get through stuck in the dirt with no real harm done. Once the main force of Persians reached the Spartans, the stream of arrows stopped except a few in the back of the 300. John felt at least three weapons rebound off his shield, then he stuck his spear out of a small gap in the shield wall. A Persian fell, the first one to have done so thus far. Then Leonidas shouted something.
"Bash! Thrust!"
John battered another Persian with his shield, and stabbed him with his spear and replaced the shield. The other Spartans did the same. The Persians again slammed into the shield wall, and the same command was shouted and carried out. This went on for nearly an hour before one of the Spartans fell. From there, Leonidas ordered the front rank forward. John moved forward with the rest of them, bashing, stabbing, kicking. Those that the front rank didn't kill simply charged past toward the shield wall of the second rank. John snuck a look at Leonidas, and his respect for the man immediately grew. He was storming through Persians with ease, never taking a hit, always killing those who got in his way. John did the same, though it was more impressive coming from a non-enhanced human. John reached a stretch clean of Persians and decided to throw his spear. He hefted and hurled with all his might, which was quite a lot. The spear flew forward two hundred feet before slamming into the throat of a Persian. The spear passed nearly all the way through the man's neck and stabbed another in the chest. John reached back and drew a second spear. A Persian charged him, but was skewered instantly. John then threw the spear and the corpse, still managing to kill another Persian. A third spear was drawn and thrown, then the last one. John then drew his short sword, which was much more natural than a spear. It felt a lot more like his combat knife than any other weapon he currently had access to. Now, as he whirled through the Persians, he dropped every one that came within reach. Finally, three Persians charged at him in a line. He lowered his shield and let the first one slam into it, then flung him over his head. He spun out of the way of the next, then cut down the last.
"Fourth rank, forward!"
John realized that Leonidas had been ordering ranks forward the whole time, and that two other ranks had been called already. John then jumped up, seeing the remaining force of Persians. They still stretched for a mile. John continued to fight, though, until Leonidas called another rank forward and nobody came. All of the Spartans had charged forward now, and were killing Persians left and right. Now, though, some were falling. The Spartans continued to fight, regardless of injuries or their fallen comrades. John continued to storm through the Persian ranks, but soon found himself surrounded. A few other Spartans were in the same situation. He received many cuts, but they were nothing compared to the gunshot and plasma wounds he had taken in the past. In the end, he killed the surrounding Persians and started his mad dash through their ranks again. Soon, the Spartans realized that the Persians had stopped their advance. They reunited, now down to only 200, and created a tortoise-shell out of their shields. Swords bristled out of gaps, and arrows stuck into shields from the Persians. Once the Spartans reached the Persians again, the arrows stopped and the Spartans started to fight once more. A few broke off from the back, sprinting back through the pass. John knew why. They would be giving the word to the Greeks that the Persians were being successfully fought off.
Soon, the rest of the Spartans would be killed.
/\
Leonidas pressed his back against John's. They were the only Spartans left. The Persians surrounded them, and both knew that there was no escape. The good news: The Persian force had been cut fully in half. An order was heard at the heart of the remaining Persians.
"Attack!"
John slashed left and right, always keeping his shield up. He never dodged, for if he did the attack would end up in Leonidas' back. Leonidas fought almost as ferociously, though he didn't have the physical enhancements that John did. They fought endlessly, dropping Persians like bags of sand. Soon, there was a four-foot tall ridge around them of Persians' corpses. Soon after John noticed this, he also noticed that each new Persian killed was tumbling toward the Spartans' feet, making a floor. John and Leonidas were soon standing on a hill of corpses, which was still rapidly growing. John barely noticed the many wounds he had taken, or the fact that his helmet had been smashed off yesterday. He wasn't tired in either sense of the word, though he knew Leonidas would be. Yet, they fought with equal ferocity, taking an equal number of lives, piling corpses into a hill growing ever steeper and ever taller. Soon, the Persians were forced to climb a steep, eight-foot hill of their dead comrades, and were easily killed. It is quite difficult to fight while climbing such a steep and unstable slope. Finally, the Persians were ordered to stop their charging. Another command was heard, "Fire!" and bronze-headed arrows rained on their position. John grunted once, even as a dozen arrows broke through his skin. They didn't cut as deep for him, or hurt him as much as Leonidas might have been. He spoke to Leonidas.
"New position!"
Both of them knew what John meant. They slid off opposite sides of the mound of corpses, storming through the Persians, and met up some 30 meters away from the hill. Leonidas was quite apparently exhausted, and his wounds might soon overtake him.
They had made a four-foot hill before they did.
John spun and slashed at a Persian, but realized that he didn't feel Leonidas against his back anymore. The great king had fallen, skewered by dozens of arrows and covered in hundreds of cuts. His helmet was gone, one of his bracers dangling from his ankle. His shield had been hewn in two, and his sword bent at a strange angle. He had been fighting in this condition for several hours, which was impressive, even not considering the many casualties he had created.
John released his true potential now. His fear of revealing his physical enhancements was gone. He piled corpses one after the other, destroying twice as many Persians as wounds he took. After several minutes and two more feet on the mound of corpses, not including the ones who tumbled back down the slope, the archers were ordered once again to fire. John crouched, kicked aside a few corpses to make a hollow for himself, and raised his shield. The arrows all stuck in his shield, then stopped coming. John stood, and a Persian immediately smashed his shield off his arm. He picked up Leonidas' sword and began an even more ferocious battle. He dropped four, ten, fifty Persians. Finally, a blade slammed into his thigh. He stepped back, but continued to fight. An arrow slammed into his gut. His cape was cut from his shoulders, and a greave was cut off. He was cut across the chest, two more arrows hit him, and one of his swords spun from his hand. Finally, another arrow slammed into his chest, and he flew from the mound of corpses.
A Persian approached him.
"You're a good fighter," he said. "But not invulnerable."
And John was beheaded.