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Mystery of the Forgotten Spartan
Posted By: Infection Form 143<infectionform143@hotmail.com>
Date: 16 December 2006, 4:12 am
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The world was calm, a sort of "calm before the storm" type of feeling.
what? thought second lieutenant Daniel Tomahawk. Where am I? His vision was blurred and incoherent. He struggled to concentrate on the Medical Ward. He heard voices, strange, fuzzy voices.
"How much longer before he's out?" Said a low, growling voice.
"Well, the anesthetic will take a while to fade off," said a higher, more energetic voice. "Damn, what hit him again?"
"I don't know," said the low voice again. "Some sort of Covene--"
His vision began to focus in as a man in a white coat hunched over him.
"I think he's recovering." Said the Doctor. "The anesthetic has gone by fairly quick."
"Good," said the low voice. Daniel turned his head to see a large man in a metallic green suit. He had a label on his arm, which read 117. He looked up at the man's face.
It was strange to see the face of a Spartan. Usually, they kept their masks locked on tight. The face was stiff and emotionless. He had brunette hair, and a nose that appeared to be a perfectly triangular shape. He had a scar on his left cheek, and a bruise on his forehead.
"Good to see you moving," said the Spartan. "Thought the SPARTANs lost one of their finest."
At this time, Daniel wished he could do more than just lay on the examination table. The doctor took a needle from a drawer, and filled it with some strange green material.
"Now," said the doctor. "This will sting, for just a moment."
As soon as the needle pierced his skin, Daniel was in a frenzy of uncontrollable pain. His vision blacked out, and he heard the sound of a prolonged beep.
***
The dropship hovered quickly over the barren wasteland that is modern-day Albatross.
Once a great, bustling megalopolis, now a desolate lifeless valley of grays and oranges. The occasional city would pass below the hold, some type of life still populating the ruin. There were many craters and boulders scattered and tattered miscellaneously across the land, and each of them bellowing with smoke.
"Alright." Said Tomahawk. "Our new assignment is to scout what's left of the capitol settlement of albatross for any leftover military technology."
"Sir," asked a young SPARTAN. "Why do we need to be the clean-up crew on this one? We should be on the front line, smashin' up those Covvies! SPARTANs were meant to protect the human race by kickin' ass!"
"Not so fast, Bluthe." Said Tomahawk. "It has also been mentioned by countless personnel that a rouge has made an encampment in the area."
"Finally, some action!"
"Quiet!" Screamed Tomahawk, who was now irritated to the bone. "Now," he said. "We'll need to split into three teams. Rico, Farley, you two are gamma team. Milton, Brando, you two are Beta team. Lee, you're with me. I'll need your sharpshooting expertise for cover."
The soldier nodded in return as th dropship shuttered to a stop.
"It's quiet out out there," said the pilot. "Friggin' creepy. Take care out there."
The team stepped into the seemingly endless junk pile that used to be the Universal capitol. The team did one last diagnostics test, and moved out.
There were distant echoes of chatter among the rusted metal and charred ruins. Lee and Tomahawk passed through what appeared to be an old highway intersection. There were old shops lining the streets, and many of them were full of rubble and random scraps. Some were still charred from battles and emergencies.
This planet was an atmosphere of pain and suffering. It's air held the stench of depression, and it's soil was thick with misery.
"Any ghost that still looms here..." murmured Lee, "God be with them."
Suddenly, there was a loud noise, and several scraps fell from a pile. Tomahawk lifted his gun, and aimed steadily at the rubble.
Another sound. Then another, and another. Suddenly, and great amount of the rubble fell, and crashed into the ground by Tomahawk's feet. An oddly shaped figure.
It was a black mound of mucusey puss. It was a thick, slimy liquid that burned the ground it was set upon.
"Don't move." Said a voice. Tomahawk looked around to ind the source of the voice, and was soon rewarded.
There, atop of the mound, was a great shadow. A form the likes of which Tomahawk had never seen. Not a Covenant, not a Flood Form. An unknown caller of the dark.
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