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The pelican was deployed. Onboard were several nameless elites and marines, all of which looking slightly uncomfortable, obviously new to the idea of being allies.
One of the marines looked as if he was going to say something, but stopped abruptly. Instead, another voice sounded from the intercom. An incoming transmission.
"We've got—" the reception fluctuated. "situation here." The transmission ended. It was Cortana, the human AI.
"What's happening?" responded the pilot over his radio. "Well, the Master Chief and I were—" Cortana started.
(They've got to fix that) thought a marine.
"brutes—" "…jackals." finished Cortana. The marines all understood the message. They were going to have to fight.

About an hour later, the pelican began its descent. All the marines loaded their weapons, while the elites stood and waited, their weapons requiring no loading.
The pelican touched down a little ways off the battle scene, to give the marines and elites time to prepare, and possibly snipe a few enemies while sneaking up.
The marines exchanged some silent hand motions, the elites not understanding. The marines simplified the directions; there would be two groups of four moving on either side of the road, sneaking up for a tactical advantage, two elites and two marines in each group. The elites armed their beam rifles, while the marines equipped snipers. The lead marine indicated that it was time to move out.
The two groups began down either side of the road, remembering to remain silent. They reached the battle scene at about mid-day. There were some small fallen boxes on the ground, along with some old trash. The fight was happening down in the courtyard, surrounded by some formerly human-owned houses. (The humans have nice housing), one of the elites thought.
A marine pointed two fingers up to the large house they had their backs against. All the other soldiers nodded, making their way toward the side door of the house, couching with their backs against the rough bricks of the house. They made it inside unnoticed.
The door seemed to have led to the garage. There was one parked car inside. Hey, that's a nice corvette—one of the marines thought, but another one cut him off, seeming to read his mind. "Don't even think about it soldier."
They found their way inside the house. There were a few broken windows, probably just from stray bullets. They could see the fight taking place outside the windows in the courtyard. The marines and elites found their way up the stairs.
Looking out of the windows, they could see the Master Chief and the arbiter going in for close combat. Show-offs, one of the elites thought. The groups split up to snipe from two sides of the house. Slowly opening the windows just a crack, they were able to fit the barrels of their weapons though the slits between the window and the frame. The snipers all took skillful aim, ready to flee at any given time if noticed by enemies. They eliminated 20, 25 enemies at most before one of the brutes pointed to group one's position, making a loud grunting sound, heard even from the house.
"Move, NOW," Yelled one of the elite soldiers, his shoulder almost getting clipped by a light blue plasma ball. They all made it out of the bedroom, as the humans called it. But, the elite that had ordered them out of the room noticed; one human marine was missing. Looking back into the room, the elite saw the marine facedown on the carpet of the bedroom.
The marine raised a hand, looking up, as if to signal something, but then his hand fell. But no – he couldn't be dead. He was still breathing. The other elite in the group dropped to his stomach, and started making his way on his hands and knees towards the human marine. The elite made it partway there, and reached out his hand, taking the marine's. Plasma bullets were now flying through the window like locusts; the elite just hoped that the jackals and brutes weren't armed with grenades, because that would be the end of him for sure.
Group two had already made it downstairs. The elite flipped the human so his back was to the carpet, and dragged him towards the door. The elite was careful not to raise his head too high, or he might have found the top of his helmet, or head for that matter, gone missing.
The elite carried the marine down the stairs rather quickly, making sure not to stress his wound too much. The soldier had been hit deeply in the chest, slightly above the stomach. The wound was about three quarters of an inch across, but it was hard for the elite to convert the measurement at the time.
"What happened," Asked one of the elites from group two. "It looks like he got shot while fleeing," Said the elite that had rescued him.
"Now we have a problem," said one of the humans. "And that might be?" asked one of the elites patching up the injured marine's wound.
"Who's going to carry him back?"
"I will," said another human soldier. "I need the exercise."
The other elite emerged from another room. "I ordered for a pelican to pick him up," he said.

Everyone else decided to go out into battle.
When they had made it outside, the injured marine was picked up by a pelican. The rest made their way to the courtyard.
They crouch-ran into the battle, few enemies were left. The jackals were all taken care of, only three brutes remained. The master chief jumped onto the back on one, planted a grenade on it's head, and quickly backed away, hands behind his back. Spartans have it so easy thought a marine. The grenade successfully detonated. What a mess.
The last two brutes closed in on the master chief from either side, but by then (what was left of) group one and group two had made it to the scene. They all drew their weapons, and aimed at both brutes.
The brutes froze, and looked at the teams of elites and humans.
"Traitors..." one of the brutes exclaimed, just before the arbiter walked up behind him.
The arbiter smoothly took out his last plasma grenade, and threw it at the brute to the right of the Master Chief. Then, the Chief did a duck-roll, just as the brute stuck with a plasma grenade lunged towards him in a suicide rush. Instead of getting the Chief though, the brute knocked the other brute to the ground, now lying on top of it.
Everyone backed off a few steps, although they were already a safe distance from the grenade explosion. This was for obvious reasons.
Then it was over. They had won.

After things had quieted down, the two groups along with the Chief and the arbiter made their way to the extraction point. The pelican picked them all up quickly and quietly, as planned. Some had to stand, as there was a lack of seating in the small aircraft.
"Good job everyone," yelled one of the marines before the pelican took off. Some soldiers raised their fists and cheered, while others chose to remain silent.
Then the pelican lifted off, and they started the hour-long journey back to the human base.
The welcome sound of rock music blasted through the pelican.
"What's this?" asked an elite. "It's called music." replied one of the human marines.
"I know what music is," responded the elite. "We have music of our own. But how is this music made?"
"Us humans have an instrument called an electric guitar." pitched in the Master Chief. "It has a smoothly shaped body, with a neck that holds stretched strings supported by pickups. You hold strings to the neck while strumming it with your fingers, and the result it pretty much what you hear."
"I didn't know you to be a talkative one, Chief." said Cortana.
"Maybe I've just been holding it in for too long," replied the Chief.
"Why are we listening to this old music anyway?" Asked a marine, "Nobody listens to System of a Down anymore."
"What's a System of a Down?" asked the arbiter.
"It's a band," responded the marine. "a group of humans that plays music together."
"Human music isn't that bad." Said an elite.

When they finally made it back to the base, the Chief and the arbiter dismounted the pelican last.
"So this is what Earth is like," Said the arbiter, "I've always wanted to see it. But back then, I was against humans. Turns out they're not as bloodthirsty as I thought back then."
"I thought the elites were bloodthirsty." said the Chief.
"Maybe we are." said the arbiter. "And it's Sangheili."

Eventually, it was time for the military dinner. Slop. Most of the elites complained out of earshot that they had been fed better with the covenant. "Don't get me wrong," said a marine to an elite, "we really don't like it either."
The Chief ate in his quarters. It had been a long day, and he needed some rest. He decided to give up trying to eat and get some sleep in before he had to get up again at 4:00a.m. The slop tasted strange today anyway.
He took off his armor and slept. Sometime near midnight he woke up again, he wasn't used to sleeping for so long.
But something wasn't right. He got a battle rifle off of the weapons rack, and loaded it with 600 rounds, just in case. Putting his armor back on quickly, he quietly opened the door manually, so it wouldn't make any noise.
He crouched and walked slowly down the dark hall. He could still hear some other marines, probably drunk, having a party with load music playing in some other part of the base.
But then… there was a shadow. It moved quickly out of view, around a corner. The Chief located the hall's light panel, glowing dimly. He rose up slowly and tapped the light panel, the hallway flooded with light.
The Chief quickly rounded the corner, and put his gun up to the head of none other than – the arbiter?
"Arbiter? What are you doing here?" asked the chief, lowering his gun.
"Sorry I startled you… I was going down the hall to tell those sangheili to quiet down."
Elites? The Chief thought. I didn't think they held all-night parties… or is it a party?
"No, it's not a 'party', if that's what you're thinking." said the arbiter. "Actually, I don't know what it is. Or if they're even sangheili. Come to think of it, they are probably not."
"I'm going back to bed." blandly stated the Chief.
"Can't blame you." said the arbiter.

"Chief?" "CHIEF?" yelled Cortana.
"Ugh… why…" moaned the Master Chief. He hated the mornings. He had dreamt of the flood. And it was the flood he would be taking on today.
"Get up and eat something. Today you're going to need your energy if you want to fight any f—" Cortana started.
"I know. Flood. I hate flood." said the Chief while putting his armor back on for the second time today.
The Chief walked down the hallway to see a sign posted on the door that read: Guitar Lessons – Just ask the Master Chief!
"Haha… very funny marines." (He's going to get a punch in the stomach for that) thought the Chief. At least some people still had a sense of humor during war against aliens and… undead.

Now it was time for breakfast. Breakfast slop. Basically just slop with added sugar and performance-enhancing vitamins. The chief made his way to the long table, where some marines were already starting to eat.
That brought a funny thought into his head… how did elites eat? (Sangheili, he reminded himself.) Their jaws were not IN their mouth, and they had no tongue. Must be difficult, he concluded, and ate some slop.

Later they boarded a longsword. The kind of ship he escaped the first halo on. This mission was just for him and the arbiter, it wasn't huge.
Sergeant Johnson insisted that they bring Cortana along too. The Master Chief tried to ignore her, but that voice… so high pitched and freaking annoying. The arbiter didn't seem to care though. The Chief didn't understand how he could stand it.
The Chief let the arbiter fly. He wasn't great at it. It was only a short distance, even though it wasn't even on Earth. When they finally arrived at their destination, they were greeted by a large swarm of flood. It was so bad that the Chief was forced to open his window and throw a fragmentation grenade out, just to clear a landing zone.
They landed quickly, and made sure to secure the ship and enable its shielding systems. They then walked into the abandoned laboratory. It definitely looked of human craftsmanship. It was almost pitch black, good for them their weapons had flashlights. And they had backups, if necessary.
They both switched on their flashlights, almost simultaneously, revealing the hidden part of the lab. There were shattered test tubes on the ground, broken boxes, and two metal doors on either side of the room. The floor was very dirty with what looked like flood blood, and a large black mark where the grenade had detonated. There was an overturned cart in the corner, a small figure behind it, its head hidden between its knees. The arbiter and the Chief slowly walked over to it, keeping their guns aimed. They sidestepped left, trying to see what was behind the metal cart but keep their distance.
Then - movement. The Chief fired five rounds into the creature. The movement stopped.
The Chief and the arbiter walked slowly up to the body, their guns still aimed, just in case. It was dead. But it wasn't flood… It was human. A scientist. Formerly conscious, the man in the white coat now had a bullet straight through the head, and several holes in his chest.
Chief felt guilty. The guy was probably fighting off the flood until he would be rescued. But now, he was laying face down on a bloody floor.
The arbiter and the Master Chief rose. There was nothing left here, time to move on. They took one last look at the dead scientist, taking his keycard. The Chief thought he saw the guy's hand move… but no. It couldn't be. He had shot him through the head. There was no way he could have lived, unless—
The dead man jumped to his feet; his face now revealed. He had no face. Where his face would… SHOULD have been, there was just an indentation in his head, filled with green slime. Some of the slime spewed down his shirt as he started making a gurgling/choking noise. It clumsily stumbled toward the Chief, its whole body now starting to be covered with a dark green hue from the top down.
The Chief and the arbiter shot it through the torso, a large portion in the center now relocated on the floor. The Chief landed a lucky shot in the head, which he was sure would be the end of it. But the creature simply lost its head (literally), its stub of a neck now violently spilling green slime everywhere. It starting emitting a choking attempt at a suicide cry, and ran forwards. The Chief thought he could see the remains of a spinal cord poking out if its neck, but it was hard to tell with the non-existent lighting in the room.
The thing still had a work tie on. The Chief stepped out of the way as it lunged past him, and he shot it in the back multiple times, his shots of course having no effect.
It managed to slow itself down, and it picked up a desk chair, and threw it across the room with such force that it shattered when it hit the opposite wall, barely missing the chief's head. The arbiter grabbed a plasma grenade, and stuck it to the thing as it swept past the Chief clumsily. The arbiter commented that it was a little… wet for an explosion.
Moving on, they walked toward the rusty metal door on the right of the room, and the Chief grabbed the handle.
"Ready?" he asked the arbiter.
"Am I ever not?" the arbiter responded, the Master Chief opening the door forcefully.
They walked into the room and found a light switch. It still worked. The arbiter switched it into the 'on' position, and found hundreds—no, thousands of flood rushing towards them, some trampling each other in the rampage.
The Chief and arbiter both lobbed grenades into the mess, and hoped to their gods that they would hit precisely. Then they started firing continuous rounds at the zombie-like creatures. They were getting closer.

And that was when the battle truly began.


All text copyright 2006 culmor30 – www.culmor30.co.nr
Halo, the arbiter, Master Chief, and all other characters used copyright Bungie Studios/Microsoft
All rights reserved.

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