HunterxHunter is owned by Yoshihiro Togashi. The anime adaption this is based off of was produced by Madhouse Studios.
Halo 3 was made by Bungie. Halo is currently owned and operated by 343 Industries and Microsoft.
AU.
The prisoner's cuffs unlocked and clattered to the stone below. Since their cuffs released while they was on the prisoners' balcony, the prisoner could air their confidence in the way they strode across the bridge. Master Chief likewise showed his confidence, clumping across the walkway to the island. The prisoner stopped around a quarter of the way across the island, and Chief mimicked his motion. The Spartan stood at attention, looking firmly at the prisoner. The prisoner lifted their muscular blue arms and tore off their hood, revealing a large, muscular blue man. He held out his arms and laughed loudly.
"I'm next!" He shouted, his guffaw echoing around the room. He stopped laughing, but not smiling, and pointed towards his chest. There were nineteen small hearts tattooed above his.
"Look here!" He shouted. "I've killed nineteen people, but it bugs me, because nineteen is such an uneven number. I'm so glad to meet number twenty!" He began laughing again. This confirmed it for him; this man was a blowhard. Well, two could play at this unnerving game, but Chief wouldn't have to bluff. Indeed; Mgalekgolo would easily outmatch this man.
"You can't challenge your teammates." Master Chief said. The blue man stopped his uproar and toned his voice to ensure that pleasantries had been tossed out the window with the prior remark.
"I insist we put our lives on the line. I won't have some prissy, everyone-wins 'contest.'" The man made air quotes. "Blood! Entrails! Agony!" He shouted, looking skyward and letting out a burst of laughter.
"Last I remember, killing hordes wasn't that funny. Though it has been weeks." Chief said, halting the man's laughter once more. "You decide the contest. How will we settle this? I'll agree to your choice."
"O-Oh." The man said, clenching his fist. "You've got balls. In that case, I propose a death match, where we fight until one of us surrenders or dies. But, as a word of warning:" He pointed at Master Chief. "Don't expect me to stop when you start crying for mercy." He began to laugh uproariously again.
"Same to you." He said, pulling up his rifle and taking aim at the man's head. "Shall we begin?" The man put up his hand quickly.
"Wait. I forgot to mention something. No weapons allowed. Even though I'm a hired examiner, I'm still a prisoner, and therefore unarmed. Fair?" He demanded. Chief nodded, agreeing. He understood completely. Even is the man wasn't a wuss, that was still a legitimate request.
"Then I request a moment to put my weapons away." He asked. The man approved, and he walked back across towards the balcony where his four companions stood. He took his rifle off his back and lay it on the ground carefully, before pulling his magnum out of its holster and laying it on the ground next to it. He withdrew his SMGs and placed them on the ground, and followed that by unsheathing his knife and placing it next to the magnum. Finally, he removed something only he recognized: A Sangheili plasma saber. When he finished with that, he returned to his prior position and stood at attention once more. "I have fulfilled the obligations. If you don't mind, I'd like to get started." He was ready to take a combat stance as soon as the match required it. The blue man instead inhaled and began flexing, his muscles bursting outward. The Spartan nearly groaned. If the prisoner'd done it in a different posture, it might have been intimidating. Jorge could do it pretty well. This man could not. He looked as though he was babying his muscles.
"Time to show you the ace up my sleeve!" The man shouted suddenly, leaping high into the air and bringing his fist down towards Master Chief. "I'll see you dead!" His fist impacted the ground where Chief had stood moments before, though he had sidestepped it. He was impressed by the strength the man possessed, so he backed off to see what the man's next move would entail. The man pulled his fist out of the hole he had created in the solid rock floor and turned his back to Master Chief. In a typical combat situation, that would have meant death. Apparently the man really wanted to show Chief his spider tattoo, but it meant nothing to him. He heard Kurapika's loud gasp from behind him and whirled around. Kurapika's eyes were flickering between grey and red, and Leorio was muttering.
"A tattoo of a spider with twelve legs… That's…" Leorio started, and Tonpa finished for him. "…the symbol of the Phantom Troupe! Any aspiring Hunter recognizes it."
"Really?" Gon asked.
"Yes, definitely. They're famous." Leorio assured him. Master Chief turned around, beginning to feel anger in his heart. He began to feel imbalanced by the strange feeling, and felt remorse for Kurapika.
"What's wrong?" The prisoner asked, snarky. "Cat got your tongue? I'm Majitani, one of the four kings of the Phantom Troupe! Consider that first strike my way of saying hello. This is your last chance to surrender. I'm still willing to…" Chief turned away from him and glanced at Kurapika again. Kurapika was sitting on the ground, unable to stand. That sight reminded him of enough U.N.S.C. soldiers and families having lost literally everything, even the rock beneath their feet, to tick him off to no end. He looked back at Majitani.
"Hello." He said, his voice devoid of everything except audio. Even coldness was left in the dust. Majitani felt shivers roll up and down his spine. Master Chief began walking towards the man, his steps crushing the ground beneath him. Majitani saw this and began backing up involuntarily.
"W-wait… What's wrong with…" He stuttered, but Chief began to run. He began picking up speed, hitting ten, then twenty miles an hour. By the time he reached Majitani, he was traveling at twenty five miles an hound climbing.
"W-Wait! I give!" Majitani shouted, but Master Chief was already positioned to strike. His kick connected with Majitani's solar plexus, flinging the muscular, half-ton man off the platform and into the wall. Majitani gasped and his vision blackened, so he did not see his own death as he plummeted to the ground. The dent in the wall was two feet deep, and the other prisoners stood, mouths agape. They were unsure how to proceed from such a devastating loss. Killua whistled.
"I thought you'd let him live." He shouted at Chief, who turned back towards the others. His steps dented the steel catwalk, and when he reached the other side he bent to Kurapika's eye level.
"He wasn't a real member, was he?" He asked. Kurapika's eyes were settling now, and he shook his head, looking exhausted.
"No; members have their number printed on the tattoo. But seeing that spider… If it was me… I might have done the same thing." He muttered. Master Chief nodded.
"I understand. I did it for you and them." He said, rising and turning back to the prisoners, raising his voice. "Next contestant, please." Well, it was a miracle. The coldness had returned.
What a miracle. Well, he's 343... er, three for three.
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