My name is Samuel Karth. Today I was transported to join Red Team of the Reds and Blues. My armor was crimson red with black accents and stripes. On my E.O.D.'s helmet, I'd painted a few emblems, resembling my few and simple tattoos. A wolf howling. A cross-hair. And my personal favorite, crossed scimitars over an elite's skull. On my hips were two Magnum .45 pistols, modified for rapid fire. On my back a sniper rifle, held there by the magnets in the back of my armor. Next to me was a duffel bag filled with some essentials. Tooth brush and paste, razor, extra pairs of clothes, some cleaning equipment for my armor, headphones and an MP3 player from the good ole days of the 21st century. On top of the bag was a sheathe that held my scimitar sword.
Seem pretty intense? I was originally in the UNSC's army. Technically apart of the Spartan program, but something in the paperwork got messed up and I never got augmentations. However, I did get lighter armor that didn't require augmentation or neural implants. After fighting some aliens and watching good friends die, and knowing that my family had been killed during the covenant invasion, I decided to sign up for Red Team, considering what they'd done was pretty impressive along with Blue Team.
There was a hissing noise from the door as it slid open, revealing a narrow walkway into the large transport ship. I stood up and walked through the doorway. When I came out, before me stood the famous Reds and Blues.
"Damn," said an orange soldier. "The new guy looks badass."
"What's your name, son?" said a red soldier.
"Samuel Karth," I said, saluting. "Reporting to red team, sir!" I figured the red one in front of me was a superior.
"Never mind. He's another kiss ass," the orange soldier said.
I ignored him.
An aquamarine soldier came from another room.
"Holy shit, this guy actually looks like he can kick some ass. Bow chicka bow wow!"
"Ah, no Tucker, its hey chicka bum bum. That's your thing. Duh," said a blue soldier, who was apparently standing behind the one called Tucker. He didn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box.
"That's Tucker and Caboose," said a maroon soldier, gesturing to Tucker and the blue one. Then he pointed to the orange and red one in front of me. "That's Sarge and Grif. I'm Simmons. Welcome to Red Team."
He offered a hand and I shook it as the door behind me closed. I listened as the pelican detached from the transport ship. My new team.
The ship lurched to one side and everyone leaned over, trying to balance.
"What the hell was that?" I exclaimed.
Alarms started blaring and red lights flashed, painting my vision red ever two seconds.
"Attention passengers and crew. This ship is going down, repeat this ship is going down. Please make your way to the escape pods. This is not a drill, repeat this is not a drill!" came a voice from the intercoms.
A brighter blue soldier with yellow stripes rushed into the room and yelled, "Get to the pods, now! Move it!"
Everyone rushed to where the escape pods were. Figures. I just got to this ship and now it's gonna crash. My fucking luck. Before we could get there, an explosion shrouded the doorway of the pod room in flames and smoke. That was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.