CHAPTER 1: THE MARVELOUS MISADVENTURES BEGIN

The sound of macine gun fire pierced th early morning air as a warthog drove around the military base, shooting anything and everything in its path.

"ALRIGHT! STOP!" the driver commanded.

The passengers of the warthog all got out and the two followers awaited further orders from their commander.

Their commander was Master Chief, the self-proclaimed ruler of the desoltate tundra they were stationed on as part of their training. With him was Nightmare, his apprentice whom he had picked up during a cameo appearance he had made in another story not so long ago. Also tagging along was Bob, the elite who operated the weaponry and followed them around. Because Bob spoke Wortish, only Master Chief could understand anything he said.

"Good work, team! We'll be able to destroy those security guns and get out of this stupid place if we keep building up our firepower," Master Chief stated.

"Wort wort wort!" Bob said.

"Yes, Bob. Once we've escaped this god-forsaken tundra we can get back to the main base and our real missions can begin!" Master Chief turned to Nightmare. "And today, apprentice, YOUR training starts."

Nightmare looked up at him, his eyes all huge and sparkly. "REALLY?!"

"Yes. So far, all you've done is follow me around and ride in the warthog... But today, all that changes."

"WHEEEEEEE!!!" Nightmare squealed, jumping up and down.

"Okay! Now, Bob, while I get the rookie started, you go get some intel on those security guns."

"Wort!" Bob replied, saluting and running off.

"So what should we start with?" Master Chief asked no one in particular. "Hmmm... How 'bout guns? Here, this is a gun." He handed Nightmare a machine gun.

"Oh, I know that already."

"Okay, to fire that thing, hold it like this and pull the trigger."

"I know how to do that too."

Master Chief scowled (not that you could tell). "Okay... Then shoot something."

Nightmare shot the wall.

"...Meh, not too bad... But you've got a ways to go."

Nightmare looked like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry! I'm trying my best!

"Stop sniveling!" Master Chief commanded. "Now we move on to grenades and other neat stuff."

He took out an assortment ot grenades, bombs, and landmines. He handed one of the landmines to Nightmare.

"Put that on the ground in front of you."

Nightmare obeyed.

"Now step on it."

Nightmare did, and of course the landmine exploded, sending him flying. Master Chief smacked his forehead and ran over to help him up.

"I didn't think you would actually step on it! Okay, new rule: DON'T STEP ON LANDMINES."

"Got it..."

"Next, we move on to the grenades..."

And so Nightmare's training continued until dark.

"Good work, rookie! Tomorrow we'll start on your combat training."

"I have a question... What does carrying you back to the campsite have to do with my weapon training?"

"Are you contradicting my chiefy ways?!"

"No! Of course not! It's just... my back hurts..."

"ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?!"

"No! I'm sorry!"

"What kind of apprentice are you?" Master Chief asked, all seriousness now. "I'm nice enough to take you in and you pay me back by complaining about a little backache and calling me fat! What about me? My feet hurt. I've been walking around for hours. I'm tired. Maybe I don't feel like walking back to the base. And I thought maybe you could find it within the goodness of your heart to give me a piggyback ride. But I can see you don't care."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry! I do care! I'll never complain again, I promise!"

"Well, okay... But don't let it happen again!"

Bob had already set up the campfire. Master Chief jumped down from Nightmare's shoulder and poor overworked Nightmare collapsed on the spot.

"Hey, Bob! So what did you find out about those security guns?"

"Wort wort wort, wort wort wort wort, wort wort."

"I see, so all we need to do is find a rocket launcher and we're good to go!"

"Wort! Wort wort wort wort wort!"

"What do you mean there's no rocket launchers anywhere near here?! ARGH!!!"

Master Chief stomped over and sat by the fire. Bob and Nightmare joined him.

He sighed. "We'll never get out of here! Oh well... At least we can get some training in..."

"So... What's for dinner?" Nightmare asked.

"Spam again," Master Chief replied. He leaned over and reached into a burlap sack, tossing a can of spam to each of his cohorts, and taking one for himself. He ate his spam through a food slot in the front of his helmet, since no one is allowed to see his face.

When they were done eating, they each took their notebooks out of their backpacks and recorded the day's events.

Dear Diary...wait, no... too girly...Journal...hmmm...still to girly... Oh, here we go: BATTLE LOG,

Today we drove the warthog around and I taught my apprentice how to shoot a gun. He has quite a bit to learn about this whole combat thing. I guess he really wasn't made for this type of game. Bob analyzed the security guns today and found out we need a rocket launcher to destroy them. I just hope we find them soon, I'm getting sick of spam.

Dear Journal,

Today Master Chief taught me all the basics of combat. He's so awesome. Tomorrow we have to search for a rocket launcher to destroy those weird guns that shoot us every time we try to leave. I wonder why we're sleeping outside when there's a nice warm base right next to us? Oh well, Master Chief says the cold is good for my combat skills. I'm not sure what sleeping in the cold has to do with combat, but Master Chief said it so it must be true. He's so awesome.

Wort wort,

Wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort wort. Wort wort.

***

The next morning Master Chief woke up at an ungodly hour, dragging Nightmare with him into the warthog and they drove off to begin a probably endlesss search for a rocket launcher and Nightmare's first day of real action.

"Look alive, apprentice! This is day two of your training! Today you'll be seeing some real action! And if you happen to find a rocket launcher, bring it to me."

"Yes, sir!" Nightmare replied enthusiastcally, saluting.

"Now, you wait here. I'll go hide somewhere, so you count to 500 and come find me when you're done. Then we'll try to kill eachother."

"What?! But Master Chief I can't kill you!"

"Don't worry, I'll just respawn if I die anyway. Get counting!"

Being such a loyal apprentice, Nightmare sat down and counted ALL THE WAY to 500. He didn't even do the lame-o counting thing and skip numbers, no, he counted ALL THE WAY.

After wandering around with his machine gun for a bit, he saw Master Chief sitting against a rock. He began firing.

Master Cheif simply walked up to him and pulled out a shotgun. Needless to say, that fight was over PDQ.

"Words of wisdom: Never go up against someone with a shotgun if all you're armed with is a machine gun. SHOTGUN ALWAYS WINS."

"Yes sir..." Nightmare replied.

"Now it's time for-- SWEET MOTHER OF GOD! A ROCKET LAUNCHER!!!"

Master Chief and Nightmare scrambled over to the rocket launcher, the solution to all their problems. Nightmare went to pick it up, but Master Chief smacked his hand away.

"Sorry..." Nighmare mumbled sheepishly.

"Don't touch it. You might break it. And this thing is the answer to all our problems... Our only route of escape! We'll use this thing to blow those security guns to bits and then get the hell out of here! Go gather up any loot you can, apprentice. I'll go get Bob." Master Chief stood up, looking heroic. "Tonight... We escape!"