Authors Note-

The idea for this one shot was given to me by Casquis- the Author of "The Life." Great Story. Read it. Now I hope to make this one extremely depressing. I am listening to the Bob Dylan play list on Pandora. I am really feeling the angst he felt as he wrote his lyrics while the world he has known crumbles around him. Aaaannnnndddd my girlfriend also dumped me, so that is contributing. Anyway, please leave a review, and enjoy the guts and violence of this story. Also, if you have a depressing idea for a one-shot, private message me and I might write it. Reviews!

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse.

Private John Macone was green. Green as the puke sitting in a pile by his feet. Green as the plasma bolts flying over his head. Green as the body amour he is wearing. Fresh out of boot camp, John was thrown into the Human-Covenant war, with 3 weeks of training. He barely knew the business end of a rifle from the butt stock. And yet he was in the middle of a war zone, shitting his pants.

3 Weeks Ago-

"GET THE FUCK OFF MY BUS, LOUSY MAGGOTS." So this was the drill instructor, fucking great. The next week was a blur, the one defining moment was meeting his bunk mate. Aaron Smith. He was from Earth. Cleveland, to be precise. Smith was a tall man, lanky, he was 28, and a former insurance broker before he was drafted. Smith was the father of two twin girls, Lily and Leah. There were two other men in their squad. Justin Victor. Victory was from Mars, he was 18 and volunteered. His head was full of bravado. Piss and vinegar. War to him was a game. He thought himself invincible, able to defeat the Covenant single-handedly. The last member was Gram Simone. He was from Harvest. The only one of his family to make it out alive. The rest burned. Like the world, and so many that followed. They burned to ash.

The week was a mix of running, pushups and screaming. Always screaming. The DI refused to talk. It was either, "WAKE UP YOU FUCKING MAGGOTS" or "GET UP YOUR WORTHLESS PILES OF SHITS." That was boot camp. Sadistic training. One morning they had to hold their one hundred pound footlockers over their heads. If a recruit dropped it, he was promptly hit in the stomach with a steel baton. Yesterday they had to crawl under barbed wire full of pig carcasses. They crawled, and crawled and crawled. Live rounds crackled over head. Stragglers were shot in the foot with TTR.

Yesterday-

The Capitan of the training company had gathered them all in the auditorium, all 350 of the recruits.

"Recruits, the Covenant have cut training short. You are all now Marines and will reinforce the Marine compliment on this planet, but make no mistake. This planet will be glassed. You cannot stop them. Most of you will die. Our objective is the evacuation of civilians. You all come second. Most of you will not make it. I have done all that I can. Protect the civvies The streets will run red with blood.

Present day-

Macone peered over the barricade to see a civilian child make a run across a street in a supposed lull in the fighting. Off to the left a plasma grenade went off. A piece of rebar went flying through the air and impaled the child through the forehead. His body remained propped up by the rebar. Brain matter and blood dripped down the metal. Eyes frozen in an expression of horror.

1 Week Ago-

They trained hard, and fast. The Covenant had appeared in system and this batch of recruits were going to reinforce the regulars. Victor was excited, Smith was skeptical and Simone was silent. For he knew what the Covenant could do. How easily plasma burned through flesh. No one was spared the superheated blue ball of death. Everyone was slaughtered. Mercy was not given.

Present Day-

Macone was with his squad. Pinned down in an abandoned Laundromat. They had decided to make a break for it when an elite burst into the back door. The squad quickly opened fire with their MA5Bs slowly depleting its shields. Victor foolishly charged the beast, firing from the hip. The elite simply raised one hand and brought it down upon his head, crushing his skull. Blood and brain matter splattered Macone, an eyeball smacked his face. The combined fire from the squad was able to topple the elite. They grabbed Victor's dogtags and headed out.

The trio crossed the street where they ran into a brute. The hulking monster quickly opened fire, sending a flurry of spikes toward Simone. The 8 spikes penetrated his abdomen, pinning him to a wall. Staining it red with his blood. He was dead. A 7.62 Sabot round cut through the air, blowing off the beasts head. A sniper was watching them. A guardian angel. Only a second before and Simone would be alive. Not a collection of blood and guts pooled around some spikes. But that is all humans are. A collection of blood and guts contained in skin. So fragile. And the Covenant was very good at separating the components. Staining entire planets red.

Smith went next. A particle beam split the air, and split him in half. His intestines fell into Macone's lap, so did a picture of Smith's baby girls. Covered in their fathers blood. Macone ran, tears streaked down his face. He was afraid. He took refuge behind a concrete barrier. Macone puked. Adding more color to this grotesque scene. Plasma bolts ripped through the air. There was no way out. Everyone was dead. He was alone. There was no hope and no rescue.

Macone took the barrel of the MA5B and placed it in his mouth. Macone pulled the trigger and a 5.56 mm round smashed through his face. Blood and brain matter stained the concrete behind him. And Macone ceased to exist.

All that remains of Macone is a bloodstain on a dead world. Not even a memory. But he has seen the end of war, as only the dead truly do. For war is hell, and there are no victors, no heroes, no cowards, only survivors.

Well I hope I didn't bastardize your idea Casquis. People, please leave a review and if you have any future one-shot ideas, message me with them.