Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfiction, I'm pretty excited since it's about halo, but first! I must give credit to my sister, who actually has an account, Ravenfeather of Skyclan. She helped my write this by proofreading. Ok, less talk more story.
The year is 2552, John and I are out in the park playing the usual king of the hill. He always was the best one out of all of us, always winning by the thinnest hair. That day had seemed only too perfect, with the sun shining brightly at its high point, and a pleasant breeze rattled the branches of the cherry trees around us. I faintly remember seeing these three adults briskly walking around taking swift glances at my brother, mistaking it as an audience in our games, I always tried to keep up with him thinking maybe one day I would beat him. Maybe they would cast one or two glances in my direction as well.
We took as big an interest in them as they did in us, stealing glances at one another. They seemed only a bit too casual for hovering around our flower dappled field. Of course their eyes were only for John, sparking a bit of jealousy among us, but not enough for John to notice, letting him believe that he was the leader, the pinnacle of our children, as our father would always shout.
My dad was always a harsh person with a slight favoritism towards John, I didn't hold it against him though. John was always the one who would keep going until he succeeded, I would watch him enviously as he would pass all the little things that kept the adults beaming with excitement, leaving us in his shadow. I need to get there attention too. I need to be like John. I need to be better, push harder, be better than my best. As we grew older, I was forced to keep this bitterness in me, carefully bottled, never to be shook or opened.
I was the popular kind of kid, always surrounded by a sea of people, but still alone in my own world, my own little darkness that was always around. John was praised by the adults, always had there attention, always causing them to overlook me. He was in the spotlight as soon as they saw him, his quiet charisma always gave him the upper hand in impressions.
What I want more then anything is to be like John, I don't know if I'll ever be anything like him. He had the prettiest girl, silky brown hair with sparkling emerald eyes, absolutely flawless. Her name is still burned into my heart, Kelly. Of course, I had any girl at hand, but none were looking for the stable relationship I had wanted. Like John had.
I'm not sure if I've come any farther from the petty squabbles held between us, but hey, who gives a damn. On Harvest, if you ever had a conflict, you'd settle it with a few blows then go out to hunt moah. At the time I had been fourteen, unallowed to lay my hands on the ruger or my brother. So I would often find my self asking John if he wanted to play king of the hill, my intensions being to pelt my brother repeatedly with the pellets, winning, standing on the top of the hill with the flag held towards the heavens, and me overlooking the line of cherry trees to see our little log house with my father standing outside looking at me, at me, with pride in his eyes.
I would be out for blood, but he would always win, keeping his cool as he held up the flag with his chest puffed out in pride. I would be seething with anger at the bottom of the hill with my face a shade comparable to a tomato. My pellet gun thrown over my shoulder, stamping to the house in a huff. Like a two year old. Whatever, my ego was swelling while my dignity was.. well... pretty nonexistent.
My father would ignore me, instead turning to call out a job well done to John. Wow, big surprise there. I would go crashing through the door, only greeted by my German shepherd, Chopper, who would cock his head questioningly at me. I would manage to choke out a hi to him, then turn and stampede to my room, followed closely by chopper.
Sighing, I slammed into bed, fighting and trying to repress the volcano of emotions threatening to erupt from inside. My tightly kept ball of emotions would free itself, and I would manage to only damage my pillow in the moments of my meltdown. Leaving only to use the bathroom, I sat on my bed for hours, carefully opening a old shriveled book. I would always smile even though it was a book that was a favorite, therefore read constantly. And it was also the only book in my possession, most had been trashed and transformed into an electric version.
Warriors. The book of many tales. Or tails. It was about cats off living in a world a whole lot less complicated then mine. I would read, sitting on my bed with Chopper curled up, his furry back pressing into mine. I read until all the natural light would no longer be enough to read by, and was finally called down for dinner.
Dinner was tense as usual, with dad praising John as he always does. He ignored me but as the good brother John was he didn't mention the altercation we had earlier that day. We sat in silence over the meal of mashed potatoes and deer that John and I had tagged that day. I nailed the buck from roughly 1,000 meters away, of course giving away all credit to John, not that my father would believe me anyways, instead praising John for the kill and scolding me for lying about it.
Exhausted, I would leave dinner early, slipping into a hot shower. Relieved, I would then head for my room once again, greeting Chopper who had sprawled across my pillows. Settling in, using him as my pillow, I sighed, pulling my deer pelt blanket over my slender frame. I heard shuffling as John began his night workout, trying to increase his already muscly build. The familiar feeling of envy washed over me as I lay in my small room with moonlight pouring through my window. After John had finally settled, I closed my eyes, welcoming the dark arms of sleep.
It was high noon with the sun blazing down on us. At its highest peak we had to wear protective glasses to keep from blinding ourselves. John had appeared from the cherries, inviting me to play king of the hill. After what had happened at dinner, I felt the need for redemption, today I wanted to win.
The game began innocently enough, with the clatter of our guns and our huffing as we neared the hill. I charged up the hill, John not far behind. I beat him out to the top, snatching the flag, ready to raise it upwards. I looked over to see our usual audience of the three adults looking up at me with interest.
John had noticed this as well, turning and ripping the flag from me, placing his foot on my leg, giving a shove. Sure enough, the unexpected force sent me tumbling down the hill. Swallowing the lump that had filled my throat, I decided that was it and snapped, all my built up rage carried me up the hill. I landed a great punch into his jaw to knock him down, but he got back up and slugged me in my chest. I fell flat on my butt, aware of the adults watching in interest.
Seething with rage, I stood, all of it bubbled out as I admitted to my hate. "You know what, I'm done with you and your bullcrap. You don't know what it's like! Being stuck in your shadow, always being out shined by your own brother! Him stepping over you, constantly, never standing up for you, willing to bundle you away like a bothersome fly just to receive praise! Why? Why?" My last words were followed by tears. Lots of them. John looked down at me, and took me into an embrace.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never knew you felt that way. Alex, you're my little brother, no one can replace you. I may step on you," he grinned, "but I will never let anyone else lay a hand on you." I never saw it, but a tear formed, just a single one, that slipped down his cheek and into my hair.
I noticed him lift his head and pull away from me. "Alex, go to the house, get dad." I followed his fierce gaze to find it lay on the same three strangers. The air about them was different, nervous and excited as they walked at a brisk pace. Even their suits were different, a sleek jet black with the same strange badges sewn on the shoulders.
I turned to run as John raced down the hill to confront them. I pelted down the opposite side. Ready to dash home, but that's when I heard it. The scream. It chilled my blood as heard my brother scream out. "Let go of me! Alex..Alex!" I turned and raced around the hill, my eyes widened as I saw the adults grab him. Looking closely I saw they had ONI patch marks, I froze, dumbstruck until an idea formed in my head. I surge red forwards towards the masked assaulter of my brother. What I would assume to be a male gave me a harsh shove, sending me hurling backwards. As I got back up and charged towards them to save my brother they shot me with something, just a small prick of pain in a world of numbness.
I collapse a foot from the attackers, finding myself unable to move, unable to help. I see blackness closing in and John breaks free, lunging forward and encasing me in a hug, but before he can fend them off, an abnormally tall individual hit him in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle. I only hear faint echoes of John yelling my name as I eventually lose consciousness.