A Very Bad Day
The Master Chief blew the brains out of the Elite piloting the ghost and turned to deal with another. He loaded more rockets into the LRV's turret and took aim at the phantom. Bang! Bang! Two rockets screamed out of the turret and slammed into the phantom's shielded hull. The Phantom bucked, but kept on going as the three plasma turret's on the belly opened fire. "Corporal!" he shouted above the noise of the engine. "Brake! Hard left! Reverse right! GO!" The Master Chief was screaming directions and the marine in the driver's seat was pushing his driving skills to the limit. When the Master Chief stopped shouting to him, they were pulling out of an ally way, and were behind the Phantom. The Master Chief loaded the gun, cocked it, and opened fire on the Phantom's engines. The only reason the engines were unshielded is because if they were, the heat would rebound off the shields and back onto the engines, causing the Phantom to explode. So as the Master Chief opened fire on the engines, the marine, unaware of his plan, began to accelerate once more. When the engines were out of sight, the Master Chief cursed, and then found a new plan; in the field, you had to improvise. His training had taught him that. "Corporal! Maintain this speed!"
"Yes sir!" The Master Chief aimed at the only other unshielded part of the Phantom: The holding bay. He opened fire. Missed. The turrets swivelled around and started to shoot at the warthog. The driver braked, and then accelerated again as purple plasma burned the road in front of them. Heat washed over the Master Chief as he loaded more rockets into the turret. The marine pulled left, right, left, accelerated, pulled left again and braked. Their aim was getting better. The Master Chief activated his scope, and aimed at the blue shimmer that was the exit of the troop bay. "Gotcha." He pulled the trigger and a rocket ripped through the door and blew up inside. He heard screams of Elites, grunts, jackals and brutes alike, but he fired again. And again. And again. He was down to his last rocket when the shields failed. He took aim at the bottom-front of the Phantom. "Fire!" The marine yelled.
"Gawk! Kietngda!" The Pilot's to the Phantom were yelling at each other "What! The shield is down!" They were about to raise the shields again, when the Phantom exploded.
The Phantom's debris rained down everywhere. The blue explosion had faded, and the remaining Covenant were mowed down by the battle rifle of the marine in the side seat. "Woo, hoo!" the driver was yelling. The Master Chief looked ahead of the driver. "Look out!" He shouted. The driver looked ahead. Tried to tur-. Too late. The rubble from the Phantom was extremely hot, as the driver found out, when a piece as sharp as an energy sword entered his brain. When his head simply exploded, washing the side seat marine with blood, he looked ahead screamed. The warthog was on a direct collision-course with a wraith. The Master Chief saw it, brought the gun about, and fired. The warthog was travelling so fast, it overtook the rocket and went up the wraith like a ramp. The marine was beyond saving so the Master Chief got ready to jump. When he did, he was as lucky as hell. The warthog was right on top of the Wraith's firing hole when it fired; at the exact same time as the rocket struck! The warthog went flying, hitting the Master Chief and bringing him with it. He was in the side seat, lying on top of what was left of the two marines. Most of the windshield was covered in cracks. He looked back at the wraith, saw the Elite that jumped out, and then saw the super-nova explosion that it created. Bits of wraith went flying out in all different directions. The Master Chief was pressed against the warthog seat by gravity as it spun around millions of times over. From what he could see, every time he saw the ground, he was even higher than before. That's it he thought. Time to get out of here. He struggled to get up, so he decided to roll, slowly over to the side of the warthog, clipped his magnum to his belt, and rolled off. As he was falling, he stared up at the warthog. A piece of boiling shrapnel smashed into the warthog's fuel tank, igniting it. BOOM! Shards of glass and metal exploded around him. His shields went down and he started to feel a lot of pain. "Shit!" he shouted as shards of glass began to rain down on him. He screamed as one entered his visor and played havoc with his armour's system. He fell, gaining speed with each passing metre. When he finally cleared the clouds, he swore again and braced himself for impact upon the Pelican's hull.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot heard a dull thump then a groan. "What the fuck was that?" he said aloud. Johnson, in the co-pilot's seat, next to the pilot, activated the Pelican's camera system. Nothing. He switched cameras. Nothing. Switch. Nothing. He was about to switch again when something on the edge of the windshield moved. It was black, then a green bit entered Johnson's field of vision. "Covenant Son of a bitch!" He shouted. "Pilot! Brake!" The pilot pulled back on one of the control sticks, and the green thing went flying off. In that instant, they realised who that was, what they'd done, and stared at each other. "Oops."
The Master Chief let go of the auto turret at the front of the Pelican once it had landed, collapsed onto Johnson, who collapsed onto the pilot, who collapsed under the weight of both of them. Then the Master Chief said, "I'm having a really bad day."
