Reality VS Halo – The Continuance of the Mission

It was quiet on a platform in the tunnels of halo. This platform was particularly special because it was only a few kilometres to a temple or shrine that held the device that controlled this ring. On the platform, a solitary grunt was aimlessly wandering around while his comrades were sleeping. This grunt, whose name does not concern us because he is going to be killed soon, was pondering randomly.

"Oh boy, I sure wish I'm sleeping right now, but I can't. If my elite commander finds me dozing off I will probably have to be 'off duty' for a while. Personally, I'm really getting tired of cleaning up after their beer parties. shudder Elite barf. I still remember when one soldier got so drunk that he lost control of his bladder as well as his anus. I HAD to take a nap that day. Something smells like my mom's methane pie."

That's when a human dropship, known as the pelican rose up with the cockpit facing the grunt. He jumped up, screamed, pissed his pants, woke his comrades and ran to the door in that particular order. Foehammer, the pilot of the bird, started to talk with her special cargo… don't think naughty thoughts.

"This is as far as I can take you," she said, "If you stay on, you will eventually die because Bungie put a stupid barrier of death around 50 feet below this platform."

"Alright! The chief and I could take it from here…"

"Look at the grunts run… something must be up!" The chief jumped off from the pelican and headed towards the door that the crowd of covenant cannon fodder had previously went through seconds ago. It opened and he stood face to face with an elite.

"AHHHHH!"

"RAWRRRRR!"

WHACK!

"HEY! That could have hurt me badly!"

WHACK!

"That almost took down my shields!"

THUD!

"OUCH! I've got a lump now you idiot!"

WHUMP!

"OW! Everything getting dizzy…" The Chief decided to not take this abuse anymore. When the elite was preparing for the final blow, he reached his giant hand up and grabbed the alien's wrist. Since the elite can't melee and he can't shoot at close range, he just stood there. It was now the Spartan's turn to go on the offensive. He scolded him.

"How dare you hit your superiors! You should be ashamed of yourselves! Didn't your mother teach you any manners! Go to your room right now! Time for your spanking… forget that last part." The elite stood confused for a second, but then wrenched his hand free and started to deliver the final blow. "Well… This isn't working," thought the chief. He then ducked and delivered a full CLIP of armour-piercing goodies straight into the crotch of the elite.

"RAWR RAWR RAWRRRRRRR!" the N00b 1337 screamed as he fell down grabbing his genitals into a pool of his own bodily fluids.

Translation: "My balls are a river of BLOOD!"

"That's just gross…" The armoured serial killer then turned he attention to a group of grunts cowering in the corner. One of them was brave enough to shoot a plasma ball at the demon. However, the demon isn't as evil as they thought, so instead of torturing the grunts, he just gave them relatively quick and painless deaths by f-ing them in the face.

Moving on, the chief found himself inside a seemingly empty room. His motion-tracker said otherwise. "Where is everyone…"

Ef-you I-cant-see, the elite whose name had been mocked by every human he had met, wandered aimlessly after he re-spawned from the events of 'The Silent Cartographer'. He looked around. He was in a room of some sort, possibly forerunner. Several grunts were sleeping around him and some were awake and patrolling along with a couple of his kind. With nothing to do except prancing around, his mind began to wonder: "Why was I placed here? What purpose do I serve in life? Why the hell do I smell organic waste from the un-tamed bowels of grunts?" Before he can go on any further with his thoughts, he caught a glimpse of a shadow that moved. "I don't remember any invisible elites being assigned to this re-spawn point." An impossibly fast turn saved his life. He saw the demon slam the butt of a metal object into his chest, taking down half his shields. The demon, expecting him to be dead, backed off, but then saw he wasn't. Ef-you I-cant-see wasn't one of those stupid elites that would rather take a plasma grenade to the chest then take cover, so he acted like a grunt. He turned what's left of his tail and ran with bullets splashing on his shields. He didn't stop until he reached a bridge. He thought that would be a good place to hide. He stood and waited for his shields to re-charge… then he would avenge his fallen comrades.

Meanwhile… In the room where Cant-See ran from… And where the slaughter is commencing…

"Got any 7's?"

"Rawr, Rawr"

"Go lick a grunt"(Go fish)

"Yes or no!"

"Rawr!"

"NO!"

"I can't understand what you are saying!"

"RAWR, rawr Rawr?"

"Can you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"

"No, that's not how you play… why are we playing this anyways?"

"Rawr rawr?"

"Dying wishes?"

"Die!"

Splat!

And thus, the noble elite was given a violent, but quick and painless death by the ways of the assault rifle. The Chief reloaded his trusty A.R. and continued on in his un-stoppable path of destruction, leaving behind… well… destruction. He followed the arrow on the ground, which led him to another one of those automatic doors. Before the sensor even noticed him, the door opened and a pack of grunts came wobbling out towards him. "Sigh…" He aimed his gun towards the living target practice and pulled the trigger. CLICK "Well… crap." He braced for impact as waves upon waves of green plasma and needles came rushing towards him. They did and they missed, that's because the welders of covie sweatshop technology had the butt of an assault rifle jammed in their heads or their gas tanks. Chief then swapped his assault rifle for a plasma pistol. Not because he knows of its shield-taking-down abilities, but because he was afraid that needles on the needler would take one or both of his eyes out. Besides, needlers are for noobs.

"Finally, my shields have recharged. Now, I have to prepare myself for battle." Ef-you I-cant-see placed one foot behind his head and balanced his plasma rifle on his foot. He then fell into a deep trance where nothing can disturb him, not even the loud blast of plasma and pistol fire blasting through grunts and jackals.

Plasma pistol in one hand and a M6D in the other, the green giant looked amongst the cool-coloured corpses of the covenant. He stepped forward triumphantly… into a hole where there had been glass before. "AHHHHH" THUMP Quickly correcting himself, he stared at an elite standing with one foot behind his head and his plasma rifle balanced on his foot. "What the…"

"Interesting. The weather patterns here seem natural, not artificial. I wonder if the ring's environment systems are malfunctioning or if the designers wanted the installation to have inclement weather." Ranted Cortana.

"I wonder why they call you artificial INTELLEGENCE?"

"Because I use big words, now shut up!"

The Master Chief was about to speak again when a handful of grunts shot at him. Their lives had just been cut back around three days short. "Damn grunts," he said forgetting about the elite in his 'meditation' position. "Let's move on."

And, so they did. They found, surprisingly, another automatic door on the other side of the bridge. I was expecting a wall. The door opened and hoards of covenant rushed out. The Master Chief was now in battle mode and was ready to kill.

"Grunts" He thought

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Jackals"

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Reload" "Gold Elite with energy sword"

"I'm dead."

"Use me!" Screamed Cortana.

"Why?"

"I am your shield… I AM your sword."

"Oy…"

To Be Continued… Or will it?… Yes it will…

Authors Note: Some people won't really get this chapter because it's a sequel of my previous fan-fiction: Halo VS Reality. The f-ing thing, well, the melee attack on the computer version of halo is 'f', so I just call it f-ing. And that joke at the end, you would have to see the halo 3 trailer to get it. This chapter isn't very good. This is kind of like a beta.