 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
One Shot, One Kill by HunterKiller
|
One Shot, One Kill Part 1
Date: 7 June 2003, 5:22 AM
One Shot, One Kill Part 1
1400 hrs.
Sam Walker crawled through the dense under story of jungle. He was getting hot; these gully suits provided no room to breathe. They were hot and itchy and got in the way of sniping. This mission was critical, it was kill the prophet or don't kill the Prophet and get killed yourself.
The cliff was at a 100 degree angle, don't fall off he reminded himself. It reminded him of back on earth, he would drop stones off cliffs this high and watch them tumble all the way down the cliff side.
A bright purple flash caught Sam's eye. He stared down the scope of his Starwind 20 millimeter sniper rifle. That was the prophet alright, sitting on his hover chair, zooming around. Your nickname is Wheels. He said to himself.
"Range me." He said to his spotter, Jon Parker.
The reply took a moment, Jon took his range finding binoculars and looked through them, down in the corner as soon as he had a lock on the target he said, "700 meters,"
"Good" Sam hooked his finger around the trigger and slowly pulled.
-
1400 hrs.
The Covenant Elite Ryo'lteun walked into the gray metal building, He was ready for any of those human bastards to try to kill this prophet, It would never happen, he reminded himself, the humans didn't even know about this secret meeting.
The room was dark; the prophet Zondac sat in his purple metal hover chair. "It's time, my liege." He said kneeling.
"Time indeed, general." He held out his hand, palm up, in Covenant salute. "Rise General, escort me to the podium. I will make my speech now." Ryo'lteun rose and took Zondac's hand. Four Elites came into the building all clutching their Plasma rifles in their hands, tightly. The first of them handed one to Ryo'lteun.
The Elites took formation behind him, all except Ryo'lteun, who stood in front of Zondac. They walked out onto the platform in front of the building, down on the ground were Elite High Generals, waiting for their leader to arrive and start the speech.
Zondac stopped behind the podium. Ryo'lteun stood behind to the left of him, So far so good, he thought. He thought too quickly, a bullet ran right through Zondac's heart, showering him in purple blood, then he heard the bang. The sound came from the north; every one took up arms and started firing at the northern cliffs. He couldn't believe it, the humans knew about the meeting. Not even the Covenant pee-ons knew about it until now.
What was he supposed to do, he ran around the building to where seven Covenant dropships were waiting, he hopped in and ordered the pilot to load up and transport them to the northern cliffs.
-
1400 hrs.
"Nice shot." Exclaimed Jon. "Right through the heart."
"Good best get to the extraction point."
Extraction was to come after dark, one Pelican dropship. Sam and Jon turned and started crawling north by west. The extraction point was in an old pond, the Covenant would never think to look there, it stunk to high heaven, almost so bad it could make you faint.
The two continued to crawl towards the swamp, hopefully the goddamned dropship wouldn't come to early, Sam had already lost one spotter because of that stupid son of a bitch's mistake, he wasn't ready to lose another one.
His life had been surrounded by death, his parents died in a plane crash when he was six; he went to live with his grandma, who died of cancer when he was sixteen. He lied about his age and lived in an apartment. Figuring he had nothing to lose he joined U.N.S.C. and went through the rigors of sniper training he passed top of his class.
Sam heard a rustling, he held up his hand and made a fist, Jon stopped he knew what it meant, but how could the Covenant have caught up to them so fast. Both men laid flat on the ground faces down, waiting for the Covenant to pass. Jon took out a wrist communicator and typed up a message
-
1420 hrs.
Colonel John Smith stood at the control console; a message was relayed over it.
"Prophet killed ready for extraction. It's still light out here, request extraction in three hours."
Smith ordered, "Get a dropship ready."
A young man with brown hair relayed the order to the main docking bay.
This better be good, he thought, We can't afford to lose another man.
The colonel wore lose camouflage fatigues, he was slightly over weight, but never let it get in the way. Last time he was called a fatty the poor sergeant went to the hospital wing, beaten within an inch of his life. No one ever teased, or fucked around with him after that.
-
1700 hrs.
The dropship hung low in the air for a moment and than dropped down just above the swamp. The damn engines are making to much noise, Sam thought listening to the electronic whiiiirrrrr of the engines. Oh so the hell what, he hopped on followed by Jon. Sam went to the cockpit door, opened it and yelled inside, "Get this bucket o bolts movin'!"
The pilot did just this and they were off to the command shuttle, holding high orbit over the jungle planet Hyperion.
-
1700 hrs.
"The humans are out here some where." Said Ryo'lteun walking impatiently under the large palm trees of the jungle. He looked around for the little grunt captain, Zackal that had been following him. "Damnit Grunt! Come out of hiding you filthy coward!"
His burst of anger was followed by some high-pitched squeals and Zackal came out from behind an exceptionally large tree.
"Yes General." He asked.
"Come, Zackal, by my side." He said sitting down on his legs. "I am going to go into deep meditation in which I hope to have the humans come out of hiding." He rested his hands palm up on his knees. "I'll need you to defend me, in meditation I am completely defenseless."
"Yes sir." Said the Grunt standing next to him, plasma pistol at the ready. Zackal couldn't help but stir. Ryo'lteun's voice split the almost perfect silence "Quiet Grunt!"
-
1700 hrs.
Sam took a seat. He lit a cigarette and had a few puffs on it when Jon jumped and grabbed his head with both hands. "Ahhhhhhhhhh! He's in my head! Get him out! Get him out!"
"Get who out!"
"The Elite. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Sam help! Help! It burns!" Jon's muscles tensed up, he went to the door ready to jump out. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he was going to jump, he was out of the ship when Sam grabbed his shirt and yanked him back in. A bright gold flash caught his eye, he could see it through the trees. He yanked his M6D pistol from his belt and shot the thing into a bloody corpse.
-
1700 hrs.
Zackal watched Ryo'lteun get blasted up into a purple pulp. He turned and ran, only to get shot three times himself, one in the head two in the back.
-
1700 hrs.
Jon crumpled down into an awkward position. Sam poked his head in the door and yelled, "Get this fuckin' thing movin'! Double time!
To be continued . . .
Prologue to Operation
Date: 30 January 2008, 6:49 am
Mark's aim was flawless. He could hit a target dead center from two-thousand meters. But it was the freezing air that he let fill his lungs that put pressure on the shot. If it were an ordinary training exercise, there would be no problem, but if he screwed up here, it put both his life and his spotter's life in danger.
"Two targets, range: thirteen-hundred." Whispered a blob of grass lying next to him. "Think you can hit'em?"
"Tell me when," Mark replied, leveling his crosshairs on the head of one of his targets.
"On my count, 3, 2, 1, do it." Time seemed to slow down, he blinked once, and with a slight movement of his right trigger finger, a bullet began to spin straight out of his weapon. A split-second later, and a blue-purple liquid jetted from the head of one of the targets, creating a large stain on the side of a nearby building.
"Shit, what a mess," whispered the blob of grass in a triumphent voice.
"Glad we don't have to clean it up," replied Mark, recovering from the recoil of his rifle.
"We, last I checked we had a deal."
"Oh yeah? And what was that?" Mark gently moved his rifle, lining the crosshairs up with the other target, now ducking behind some crates.
"You shoot, you clean up the mess," the blob said, observing the other target's movements with his spotting scope.
"Well, I doubt that will apply here," Mark blinked, and another bullet spun in the air, ripping a hole in the chest of the Elite.
"Sa-weet," whispered the blob, placing his hand inches from the ground, gesturing for a "high-five."
"C'mon, bird's going to pick us up in ten; we need to move," Mark grabbed his rifle and began to dissassemble it.
"Fine, leave a brother hanging," the blob said, lowering his hand in dissapointment.
"You'll live, now let's go." As both Mark and the blob went to stand, a loud whiz was heard, and a red liquid stained the snow beneath them.
"Shit, stay down," Mark said, struggling to pull his pistol from it's holster. "Fuck man, were did the shot come from? Tony? Tony!" He began to move his head around trying to see either the shooter or his spotter. He found neither. All he saw was a long stream of blood, leading down the mountain. He began to check himself, to feel if he had been hit. The cold numbed his whole body, and if he saw red on his gloves, he knew for sure he was hit. Nothing. He reached for the bag containing his rifle, pulled out several parts, and reassembled his weapon. He then began looking for the source of the shot, and judging by scorch marks on a nearby tree, and where he and Tony were standing, his crosshairs came upon a two-story barn over 3000 meters away.
"Gotcha you sonofabitch." He leveled his crosshairs on a small blue light emitting from a window in the upper right-hand corner. His heart began to race as he heard the crunching of snow behind him. At first the crunching was slow, but as Mark turned to face the sound, it sped up. Snow was being kicked up about fifty feet in the direction he was looking, and it got closer. He rolled onto his back, hefting his rifle against his shoulder. The snow that was being kicked up was fast; Mark soon found himself waving his rifle frantically trying to keep up with it. Then, it stopped, his arms were limp from waving his rifle, and buckled under the weight of the gun. He began to breath heavily, and he no longer had the strength to grip his rifle, so it slipped out of his lap and onto the snow. He began to halucinate; he imagined a blur standing over him, and a bright blue light formed just below his neck. He wasn't. The blue turned into a solid object, a Covenant Elite. Instinct got the best of him. He grasped his pistol, and thrusted it directly under the mouth of the Elite. "Damn, you are ugly," he said, pulling the trigger and creating a fountain out of it's head. The Elite swayed a bit, dropped his weapon, and fell onto the downed sniper. The corpse of the dead alien had him pinned against the tree, with only the hand with his pistol free to move. His heart again began to race as he heard footsteps. Much slower than before, almost limping. Still, he wasn't going to let it go. He pulled his pistol to the side of his head, and began scanning his surroundings for anything like before, what he found instead, amazed him.
|
