The Parthenon A Halo Fanfiction By: Delta T members Dryice and Drought

"For a super soldier you are one pale bastard, Master Chief." exclaimed Johnson.

"Thank you, sir," replied the Chief.

"That was not a complement, Chief" said Sergeant Johnson in disbelief. "Ever been fishing, Chief?"

"I once choked an Elite with a wire, does that count?" asked the Spartan.

Johnson shook his head warily at the man who knows very little outside of combat. "That suit protects you from more than hostiles, Chief. You are the palest person I have ever seen Casper! It is good you are out of that suit at least for a few hours."

"The doctors said I need the exposure to the sun so my skin stays alive." replied the Chief warily. The MJOLNIR battle armor was akin to a normal person's favorite shirt. The Spartan had spent many years in the armor that it had become part of him in more ways then any amount of implants and modifications could ever. The man was attached to the armor as much as any part of his body.

"Well out here on The Clam you can get as much sun as you want, Master Chief. You never know you might actually become and good looking as me!" The Chief looked over the edge of the boat as Johnson got out his fishing gear. There on the side on the speedboat was its name painted in midnight blue against the white hull was the ship's name, The Clam, seemed rather inappropriate for an incredibly fast speed boat that carried two war heroes fishing. "You like beer, Master Chief?"

"Never had one, Sir." replied the Spartan with interest.

Johnson nearly fell off the boat. He turned to the marine that was aboard and screamed, "Corporal get me two beers… and one for the Chief, too!"

"What kind, sir?" replied the young man.

"Do Not Tell Me Anything But Budweiser Came On My Boat!"

The Corporal appeared to be quite afraid—he had packed a whole case of Miller light: a true antique because Miller went out of business right before Reach fell. "Well… you see sir... I kind of brought some Miller."

"Chief get your battle rifle ready."

The marine looked nervous. "Please don't shoot me I only wanted some beer."

Johnson said, "Not you son. We do not shoot comrades. But that beer is another topic." He opened a compartment and pulled out a clay target launcher. He released the legs and set it on the deck pointed out starboard. "Marine get me that beer of yours. I think the Chief needs some target practice." The marine got the cold Miller out and set it next to the launcher and stepped back. Johnson put a can on the target launcher and looked to the chief who nodded. The can went flying and the battle rifle sounded and the aluminum can exploded. "Good shot, Chief. Ready for another?" The Spartan nodded and another can was loaded and then set free over the ocean where another three bullets tore the can apart. Another ten cans met the same fate as the first two. "The things I do for this world." Johnson barked. "Soldier, get the REAL beer out. You have never been fishing have you, Chief?"

"No, Sir," replied the Spartan.

"Well then, prepare to receive an education, Chief"

The marine came back with a cooler full of beer. He had filled the plastic container with a dozen bottles and some ice. Corporal Davis put the cooler down and retreated back as if paying homage to a deity or sovereign.

"Ahhh, Beer!" shouted Johnson. He grabbed three beers and handed a bottle to the Chief and opened his using the palm of his hand. The pale man took the offered beer bottle and opened it the same way Johnson used. He took a tentative sip… only to be interrupted by Johnson. "Whooooo! That is good beer!" He downed the second and picked the fishing pole up.

A few hours later a large pile of fish was on the deck of the ship, but it was no where near the size of beer bottles and cans behind them. The master chief and Johnson were unaffected by the alcohol; the marine in the other hand had puked twice and fell off the boat once. Johnson reeled in another fish and threw on the pile. The fish was a lively one and flopped off the pile towards the unopened beer. In a flash the Spartan drew his pistol and shot the fish right through the gills. Johnson was startled and finally saw the shot fish.

"It was going for the beer, sir!" said the Chief as that was reason enough.

Johnson looked remorseful. "What have I done?" To himself he thought that he had unleashed an unstoppable force, a Spartan who likes beer. He looked at his watch and saw the time. He walked to the window near the boat's driver and tapped on the window. The man nodded and The Clam's engines started up and the boat began to move. Soon they would arrive at the entrance to the Parthenon project.