This is a quick prologue, just to see how many reviews I get before I take off with the idea.
It's something that came to me, but I wanna know how far I can take it before I commit myself to it.
As a warning, I'm very busy with school, so updating will be slow. If you want to see more, just review so I know I'm not just posting and writing for my own pleasure.
I do not own anything Microsoft owns, though I do take credit for James Truman, the Medical Officers, the Spartan (not the name, but the one I'm manipulating), and anyone else I decide to drag into this.
Hope you like it, and constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated.
I adore constructive criticism, not just criticism. No flames, please; not because I can't take flames, but because I'd rather not have to read them. Any advice on how to make this idea really take off, though, would be amazing.
Thanks and, once again, hope you like it.
Fire and ash filled the night air, explosions down upon the battle field belching pillars of smoke up into the sky. A thick wall of sound encompassed the scorched field, trapping all within.
James Truman blinked into the black smoke, coughing and spluttering against the poisonous air. Truman winced as he bumped up and down against hard metal, frowning as he attempted to recollect his thoughts. Truman inhaled the deathly air, and then fell into another horrible coughing fit, contorting his body and reminding him of the large shards of metal lodged in his shoulder. Truman bit back the pain as he bounced rhythmically up and down, with the occasional jarring jump that lodged the metal shard deeper into his flesh and scrapped against bone. All seemed eerily quiet as Truman was carried off the field of battle.
Soon shapes began to form in his vision, and Truman recognized the uniform of the Head Medical Officer. Truman was laid gently upon a makeshift cot, his face contorted in pain as his shoulder jammed against the side bar of the cot.
Truman watched on as the Medical Officer shouted something at the Spartan-II who had brought Truman in before the Spartan took off, back into the Fire. The Head Medical Officer called over three of his associates, who raced over, leaving the less-urgent patients to their rest. Truman gazed on with dazed eyes as the Head Officer quickly inspected the entrance wounds on Truman's shoulder first, and then on his left leg. Truman frowned, just noticing the five strips of metal ruggedly lodged into his leg. He winced at the sight, closing his eyes, only opening them when the three younger Officers threw themselves on top of Truman, restraining him as the Head Officer began to yank the strips of metal from Truman's leg one by one. Truman cried out against the silence, attempting to struggle from the strong hold of the three Medical Officers. His attempts were in vain, but he continued to push and throw himself against their restraint. The pain finally consumed him, the last sight before his vision went blank being the tension in the subordinate Medical Officers as their Head gripped the large metal shard in Truman's shoulder, breathed in deeply, and then pulled.
