Author's Note: *Cough Cough*Ok Hello Everyone. This may be my first fan fic to ever release into public, but don't fear a lack in writing and grammar skill, I write many FanFics in private. Ok this is the first thing I release so.... the disclaimer thingy thing.....
how about this:
Disclaimer: I don't own halo, nor bungie, nor the UNSC, nor earth, nor ONI, nor yadda yadda yadda.
Ok, you guys can set the axe down now. Please. Your slow approach is VERY intimidating. Erm...you are invading my personal space....um
….oh crap....please-PLEASE DON'T! *maniacal laughter in background*
Laugh and Cry
Ok first things first: The story is set some time after our dear Halo 3, our dear brethren Master Chief and the Spartans of the Spirit of Fire managed to return to earth, they will team up in this one, to fight a great threat, so to say, AND DON'T YOU INFIDEL FOOLS DARE THINKING THIS IS GOING TO BE A CLICHÉ! They will be under orders from ONI, specifically our dear sister Paragosky (the good woman who never gets old). The Fic is rated M for a considerable amount of pain, psycho-terror, madness, bloodlust (BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!) and last but not least: BLOOOOOOODDDD, GIVE ME MORE BLOOOOOOD! as well several limbs and organs. Oh and I forgot to mention: the good ol' torture thingy, all due to our main villain and his most enticing fighting style (you will like it). Well, let's begin:
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Damnit, almost forgot to mention: The main villain in this proud piece of trash: Helmet: EVA
Both Shoulders: Hyabusa
Chest: CQB
Primary Colour: Steel
Secondary Colour: red
Detail Colour: red Emblem: Two crossed swords on a circle
Chapter 1: Prologue, Awakening
We are writing the year 2555, Master Chief and the Spirit of Fire have found their way back home, Master Chief and the Spartan team red (Jerome, Douglas and Alice) have found their way back to the UNSC, although most power now lies in the hands of ONI, under Parangosky.
It was night on Earth. The moon reflected his light, illuminated the darkness of the night with it's subtle silver-blue colour, resulting in beautiful sparkling light on seas and ocean. Animals, small and huge, hunt, eat, sleep.
On a very specific piece of northern Africa, the ground trembles. Not an earthquake, as it was limited to a single small spot. Earth sunk, a hole built up. Finally an arm , clad in steel coloured armour, burst through the earth, grabbing an outline and pulling its' torso up. The moonlight illuminated the armoured figure, which was pulling itself slowly out of the hole. The armour was heavily damaged, showing many holes, a pauldron almost totally ripped off, the whole suit soaked with clotted blood, blood of his own, but mostly foreign, making it rusty on many sets. The many holes exposed light and heavy wounds, good and badly healed, yet some not, revealing bare bones and torn flesh. The figure however had no time to moan over its injuries, as the inner wounds carved so much deeper. The gauntlets barely held together. The helmet had several cracks and breaches, revealing a steel-blue eye and part of the mouth was exposed, pale skin, due to lack of sunlight. As the armoured figure ultimately managed to pull itself onto the ground, it laid still on its stomach. Then it rolled over, sat up and stared directly into the moon, a single tear escaped the embrace of the eye. As it stood up, it fuddled on its armour, checking for the functionality. Everything had to work, the partner was dead, it would take long to accumulate, as it was alone now, as it would be alone for the rest of it's probably very short remaining lifespan. Just as it wished.
The years of imprisonment were soul-robbing, the last attempt of regaining sanity was tossed away. Why stay sane? How stay sane? Sanity was frail, and in its case an obstruct, which was still trying to keep it alive. Stay alive? For what? Killing? Killing was the last option. The partner...its memory let another tear stream out of the eye. Without the tranquil touch of the partner, the serene presence of it, the voices came back, demanding blood and pain.
The exposed part of the mouth twitched as anger and joy, mixed with pain and sorrow, flooded the figure's mind. A delighted smile became visible, revealing sharpened teeth, just as more tears flew from the eye, replicating sounds who were a mixture of laughing and sobbing.
Killing it was.
The suit, despite its heavy damage, would still be able to offer great assistance, most of the blades still worked, although the release mechanism of one of the wrist blades was utterly damaged. Many of the supportive systems were also functional, providing the figure a map of the world and a considerable amount of additional help, such as the suits' overall functionality, ammunition amount and injuries. The figure which represented the injury-interface had many red points, resembling the countless wounds and danger of infection. It didn't matter to the figure. The wounds wouldn't have enough time to heal, as new ones were expected to come soon.
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Yes I am well aware of the fact that the prologue is extremely short. Also my writing style with this program can be improved. I need to be more descriptive.