It was a quiet night in the garage. All of the mechanics had turned in, leaving a single soldier to work on his vehicle in peace.
Music blasted from a radio nearby and Jackson stopped to wipe grime from his face. He was deep underneath a Warthog, tuning its parts to keep it moving fast. It didn't need to be done, but the Spartan had nothing better to do.
He was humming along to a song when suddenly he heard the nearby door fly open and slam into the wall, but then slam closed. There was a clank of boots and Jackson could easily tell who it was.
"We gotta go!" 211 yelled urgently. The Spartan had just barged inside and was looking like he was in trouble. Jackson pushed himself out from under the Warthog and wiped his hands on his pants. "Oh god. What did you do this time?" the squad leader asked, sitting up to look at the Spartan. "No time to explain! We gotta go!" 211 said urgently and started looking franticly around. "Where are the keys to the 'hog?"
Jackson raised an eyebrow before grabbing another set of keys. "We'll have to take the Commander's. I'll pay him for the damages later," he says. 211 snatches the keys and sets off at a run just as sirens hit Jackson's ears. Shouting and yelling could be heard. They were the MP's. Whatever 211 had done, it pissed the police off.
Jackson quickly turned and left through the back door, making sure to close it tight. 211 already had the warthog started up and ready. He was about to honk the horn when Jackson appeared. "Come on!" 211 said. The Spartan jumped into the passenger's seat and 211 floored it out of the parking lot, mowing down the chain link fence and plowing over the dirt. The headlights shone on potential dangers in the dark and the overhead moon was partially covered by clouds.
But soon enough, the lights from the police vehicles flashed over the dirt road 211 had taken. The Warthog easily rode over the dirt, but the police vehicles had a harder time. It was evident that the police were very angry with the Spartan that was running.
"Mind telling me what happened?" Jackson asked his friend just after they practically fly over a dip in the road. "Might have done something to an officer's car," 211 replied. His tone hinted at something diabolical, and jackson was both pleased and annoyed with it. "You're not going to get away from them easily, you know," Jackson said, looking over his shoulder to see a large group of police vehicles. "I can outrun them," 211 said with a scoff. "We'll see..." Jackson said and gripped the edge of the Warthog as they flew over a jump and nearly skidded off of the road.
There was a loud screech of feedback and a pissed off sounding MP bellows at them through a blowhorn. "Stop fucking running or we'll blow your ass off the road!"
211 laughed at that and bellowed back over his shoulder, "I'd like to see you try!"
One of the faster police vehicles' engine reved and nearly slammed into the back of the Warthog, but 211 suddenly slammed on the breaks and the police car instead hit the back of the Warthog hard. 211 peeled off again, laughing at the insults of the MP he had hit. The other police cars overtook the recovering policeman and closed in on the two. But 211 had just been playing with them, now he gunned the engine and it roars as he took a sharp turn quickly, forcing the police to slow down. "Hahaha!" 211 laughed as they tore away from the cops. "You're loving this, aren't you?" Jackson asked. "How did you know?" 211 replied, keeping his eyes on the road and less on the mirror.
211 was taking the two to the dam. Jackson wasn't aware of this, he couldn't tell where they were. And the police don't know it either. As they were climbing the road to the upper dam overlook, a flash of motion jumped out from the side and slammed into their Warthog. Blood splattered the windshield and nearly missed the two Spartans. "Ah crap!" 211 exclaimed as the deer flopped to the ground, its bones shattered. "Up here, come on!"
The two double timed it up the last of the hill just as the police sirens and lights come into view. But they were trapped. A sharp cliff to their rear and a full compliment of cops nearing them. The water crashed against the rocks behind them, and the police are closing in on them to their front.
The headlights from the police cars shone on the Spartans like two fugitives cornered. The policemen left their cars and trained stun-guns and regular guns on them. "Get on the fucking ground! Do it now!" One of the MP's roared, obviously pissed. "You sabatoged one of their cars, didn't you?" Jackson asked quietly to 211 who just grinned. "They take us in, we're in for a world of trouble," Jackson said, glancing to his partner in crime. Jackson then looked back to the water crashing against the cliff and back to 211 who thought about it a minute before groaning audibly. "You have GOT to be kidding me!" he said. Jackson then turnned and plunged head-first off of the cliff. The Police were closing in on them, about ready to take them in. 211 groaned again and jumped off of the cliff just as a policeman lunged for him.
The two Spartans were engulfed in freezing water and dove deep beneath the surface.
The water was pitch-black, and neither spartan could tell how deep the water was. But when they surfaced, the lights of the police were far away. The MP's were beginning to scan the surface of the water with flashlights, but the two escapees had already come up on the other side of the beach. "Hell yeah!" 211 laughed once they pull themselves out of the water. "I am so going to kill you," Jackson said with a good natured grin. "You have to admit, that was FUN!" 211 said, slapping his squad leader on the back. Jackson just shook his head and began walking back to their base. "Next time you do sabatoge, call Parkson."