 |
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
|
|
|
Hotel Zanzibar
Posted By: System Failure<colemanfactor@aol.com>
Date: 30 April 2006, 1:24 am
Read/Post Comments
|
September 29, 2552 (military calendar)
13:56 hours/ Old Mombassa; Hotel Zanzibar
Main lobby/ East Entrance
I stood there and watched, as a blinding light illuminated the Elite, uttering its death cry. The flash faded quickly, yet my eyes were still blinded by it, the image of the Elite etched into my retinas. The barrel of the Battle Rifle smoked in my hands, I held it tighter, as now it was my only companion.
The Elite fell to its knee's, smoke wafting from the three bullet holes in its chest. It cocked its head at me, as if darin' me to come closer. He doesn't know Sergeant Coleman takes shit from no one. I leveled my gun at its head, ready to shoot. But it just collapsed to the floor, blood pouring out of its battered chest.
I reached into my ammo pouch and pulled out a cigarette. Cigarettes, they say smoking kills, but in this war, the enemy will kill me long before the smoking does. Before pulling of matchless lighting tape, I paused. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to be smoking now. I pulled the carton out, and tossed it on the dead elite. I fired a round through its neck, just to make sure. Them bastard ass Elites, some of them don't die at first, and come back to kill yah.
I let my battle rifle fall to my side. It hung there; limp, like a dead limb. The Elite had some grenades on it, so naturally I took them. There were three plasmas; them "stickies" as I call them were some weird things. I picked the up, and put them in the grenade pockets near my knees. The stickies were fucked up grenades, stayed with you till they blew. Low chance of survival. More personal than our fine UNSC general issue, the frag, which instead of killin' one poor son ova bicth, could blow a whole squad of them to hell. Ours don't stick however, so we can bounce it and lead targets, making for a lot more surprise killings.
I stretched my neck, and decided to move on .The hallway was littered with bodies, some marines, but the majority were them Covenant bastards. Like always us marine kickin' ass. Flicking on the BR's flashlight, I scanned the area. The walls were covered in pockmarks and plasma scoring. Same ol' shit. Since the war started, the close quarters fighting always looked the same. The floors and walls crumbling, and with pieces of the latter hitting the ground silently. A small tribute to those who died in a battle that probably only lasted two minutes, tops. The hallway was starting to creep me out, so I double-timed it through the hallway, and nearly fell of a ledge.
There was no hotel, where there was supposed to be hotel. Must've gotten taken out by the mortars. Some call them snow cannons; cause the plasma they shoot out looks like a giant snowball. Till its slow moving self lands on ya head. Then it just looks like your ass getting blown up. The whole area was once again, littered in bodies. Actually it was more like carpeted with bodies. Blood formed deep puddles in the thick carpeting on the corridors floor. Spent shell casings formed disorderly piles of brass, showing the path of desperate Marines protecting their home. I took pleasure in the fact that, the majority of the bodies, were covenant soldiers, proving that the UNSC one at least one small skirmish.
Heard on the COM that a Spartan was in the area. This was probably him. Spartans, them efficient ass fuckers. They can tear a platoon apart piece by piece, as long as they got marine support. I chuckled at this thought as I scoped the area.
"Sgt. Coleman, need a lift?" asked cackled a voice coming from my headset. I looked down the street, just in time to see a Warthog roll up fully stacked with a chain gun. It was battered, but the roar of the engine, and the fact that a dead Elite had been pierced on the tow hooks showed that it had a lot more fight in it. Oo rah, dats what I want ta see.
"Nice hood ornament," I said slinging my battle rifle over my shoulder.
"Thanks sir," replied the driver, "Do you want a ride?"
"Hell yeah!" I yelled as I jumped down. I trotted over the LRV and jumped into the passengers seat. Looking to my left I identified the two marines, the driver was Specialist. Jason Carey and the gunner was, shit. It was that lazy ass Marine from my squad, Corporal, Martin Pierce. Those lucky ass bastards, riding an LRV out of a crashing aircraft.
"Sarge, good to see ya," said Cpl. Martin, grinning from ear to ear.
He was damn lazy but it still warmed me to see at least two of my squad still alive. "Good to see you too Corporal," I said nodding my head to him.
"Sergeant," said Spec. Jason.
"What's up?" I asked, half greeting, half question. We were heading down a section of broken highway. It made a perfect ramp down to the beach below. It was a nippy day out an the beach was a little chilly.
"I got reports that a pelican crashed a few hundred meters from here." Jason responded
"Good, take us there, we'll need the supplies." As we hit the bottom of the ramp, the pelican came into view. It was a mess but the crew compartment was intact. The ships were nearly indestructible. Unfortunately for us that was a big nearly. The scarab's main cannon ripped it to shreds. Some bodies' lay around the wreck, but surprisingly none wore marine olive drab, or more yet human. There were two mint condition ghosts near by, their drivers laying face down in their seat, blood slowly dripping into the warm yellow sand.
A noise was heard in the pelican. Martin aimed his turret at the doorway, its motor whinnying softly.
"Come the fuck out!" I said with my rifle aimed at the opening. Two marines stepped out, lugging two duffels stuffed with weapons apiece. The last few days of the war had gotten me wired, so I fired of a round before even seeing what cam out of the Pelican. The bullet struck the strap on one of the bags of the Marine closet to me and sent its contents rattling to the ground
"God damn, sarge!" screamed the Marine that was hold the bag. "U trying to kill me?" he said with a scared look on his face. He's probably gonna be shaken up for a while now. Dam bitch.
"Good o..." said Cpl. Martian behind me, his voice trailing off. I followed his gazed over the river to New Mombassa. The metal and glass counterpart or old Mombassa's brick and stone. Then I saw it. Right next the massive COM tower that dominated the skyline. The covenant cruiser was jumping from in side the city, inside the goddamn city! Motes of blue tinged light appeared around its hull, and it slowly moved into slip space. Barley visible against the blinding light was the Amber Clad, the base ship for most of the Marines in the Bassa' region. And its leaving us here too.
"Holy shit!" screamed the other marine in the crew compartment.
I looked down at him, then back at the cruiser. In the blink of the eye it was gone, taking some near by buildings, and the Amber Clad with it. Then I remembered the other part of a slip space jump. "GET The Hell Down!!" was the last thing I said before the blast. Martin jumped forward, off the turret and landed in the sand next to me.
A deafening roar was heard as the air around new Mombassa pressurized, violently. The pelican was silhouetted by a harsh, white light. The area around the beach was soon filled with burning pieces of buildings, vehicles, and roadway. They began hitting the ground like mini meteors and causing the sand where they landed to boil. This wasn't
good.
"What the fuck happened?" asked Spec. Jason.
"When a ship enters slip space," I started, my eyes were squinted, because the amount of falling debris had risen, "It pulls all the crap near it along with it, wreckage, ships, anything close enough to be caught in the gravity well. Usually air is not problem, but we got lots of.." I stopped when I felt one of the marines in the drop ship tapping me.
"What?" I asked looking at the scared face of the marine. Damn pussy.
"Building," he said steadily pouring tears now. I looked up. A five-story section of the COM tower was hurtling towards our position. Smoke poured out of its windows, and the fires inside gave it an eerie glow. There was no sound except for the falling chunks of building around us. Someone behind me let out a long line of heartfelt explicatives, and then it landed, right on top of us.
|
