Well, here's the second installment. For those who sent in reviews thank you.
Credit for the item in this part goes to TehMaskedWarrior. I don't think this is what he had in mind when he suggested it, it's what I could come up with.
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo in any way, shape, or form.
Okay, time to take stock.
Opposition? One Elite Ultra.
Resources? One M6C (out of ammo), one MA5B (out of ammo), one Plasma Pistol (depleted), one super advanced (though at the moment utterly useless) AI. . .
"I heard that."
. . .Sorry. . .
"Hmph, you better be."
. . .one standard flare, and one feebly struggling Grunt.
Could be worse.
Holding the squirming Grunt by the throat the Chief edged to the door and peered around the frame. In the next room the Elite stood head and shoulders above the cubicles of an abandoned office, it's white armor standing out sharply in the dark room.
In his hand the Grunt kicked and beat at his arm with ineffectual punches. Sighing, he gave the tiny alien a shake, greatly wondering why the Covenant used them. They were short, not particularly fast, strong, smart, or brave, and had to carry around those cumbersome methane packs. Cumbersome highly flammable methane packs.
Under his helmet the Chief smiled.
Stepping away from the wall he moved into the center of the storage room and dropped the Grunt, unmindful of the thud it made on impact. Kicking the alien onto it's stomach he planted a foot on it's back, pulled out the flare, and lit it.
Out in the office the noise and sudden light didn't go unnoticed and soon the Elite came into view. Spotting the Chief the Elite roared and charged, the Plasma Rifle in it's fist spitting burning death.
The Chief ignored it, judging distance and speed. When the Elite was a dozen meters away the Spartan struck, lifting his foot and bringing his heel down hard on the base of the Grunt's pack. The pack cracked like an egg and methane hissed out in a tight stream into which he thrust the flare. Gas turned to flame and with a squeal the Grunt took off, arms flailing as it sailed through the doorway. It wasn't the most graceful flight, but it was short.
The entire office was shaken by the explosion as the already-damaged pack ruptured fully on impact, the flames rising and spreading across the ceiling like a flower.
It was actually kind of pretty.
Walking through the smoke and flaming debris of the devastated office the Chief nudged the charred corpse over and picked up the remarkably unscathed Plasma Rifle.
Okay, time to reevaluate.
Opposition? None.
Resources? One super advanced AI and a Plasma Rifle.
He was good to go.
There you go I hope everyone enjoyed reading it.
I really only have a few ideas on what else to do so please send in suggests, though again I make no promise that I'll use them.
Until next time please review, it means a lot to us writer.