Ch. 6 The Zealot of Doom

" Snipers!" yelled the Sergeant. " Check your scopes and tell me what the hell is making that sound!"

" Sir!" whispered a shaky marine as he slowly looked away from his scope. " There are Covenant, hundreds of them! Elites and Jackals! They've even brought their own vehicles!"

" God, what a beautiful day," murmured the Admiral. " To head to hell."

Suddenly a low Ghost appeared over the ridge of a hill and slowly stopped. A golden Elite emerged from the vehicle and walked slowly to the group of Marines. Every single soldier abruptly lifted his rifle and aimed it at the head of the creature.

" Hold your fire men!" roared the Admiral. " Let's see what this warrior has to say to us. Jacob, bring out Toto!"

As Toto appeared from his data crystal the Covenant began to speak in its foreign tongue. Its quick and rumbling voice laid out a well-elaborated speech that ended with a snarl.

" Translation geek," said the Admiral.

" At your command my dear Mexican taco," replied the A.I. " Translation start… ' We have come to tame the Hunters and join our holy cause. I do not know what beings you are but you will either step out of the way or die by my hands.' Translation end."

Groups of Hunters emerged from the forest. The thin leader raised its shield high into the air, and slammed it into the ground with an angered howl.

" Judging by his attitude, I don't think the Hunters are ready to chill with these ugly assholes," laughed the Sergeant. The Elite looked over to the Hunter and began to growl and snarl a new sentence. It then clambered onto its vehicle and drove back to the Covenant horde.

" Translating start," droned Toto. " 'If you do not obey, we shall wipe you from the face of this planet for your treachery. Prepare for battle.' Translation end…"

" Well, my blood-thirsty homies the Covenant seem to want to have a debate over who's the hippest. I say that we give them a strong rebuttal before they can even open their mouths and show those stunted faggots who the real men are! Snipers, get positions on the hills and commence Operation: Hand-the-Covenant's-asses-on-a-silver-plate."

The snipers readily obeyed as they climbed the small hills and began to set up their weapons. Soon the air was thick with the sounds of loud cracks and magazines being swapped as the marines laid penetrating bullets on their foes. Though his own scope the Master Chief saw eight Elites crumble as the bullets ripped through their heads and throats. He fired four shots and watched with content as three Jackals and a golden Elite collapsed from the impacts.

Just as he was about to slap in a fresh magazine, the Admiral could be heard yelling a retreat. The Spartan quickly picked up his rifle and sprinted back to camp. Every undamaged Warthog held fresh drivers, turret operators and passengers who carried a rocket launcher. The tanks had lined up on the highest hill to get a better view of the enemy. The Admiral was screaming on his radio for Pelicans to head to their position and bring them extra supplies and firepower. The Master Chief had climbed on the back of a Warthog and held the turret. On the driver side was Robert, who gave him a wide grin, and Chris, who gave him a cold stare that could have stopped a Hunter right in its tracks.

" Better be aiming good, Hulk," sneered Chris. " Otherwise I'll have to knock you off that seat and do it myself."

" By the time you even get off your seat, the Master Chief would probably have kicked your ass dude," yelled Robert. " Why don't we all just calm down and be friends?"

" Shut up peewee," Chris snarled as he hefted the Rocket launcher on his shoulder.

Engines roared and tanks rumbled as the vehicles began to head towards the Covenant. They were outnumbered one to five but the Spartan had faced much worse scenarios. Just not with a talkative marine and a biased Hell-jumper. It was going to be an interesting day.