John H: Prolog
Date: 14 April 2005, 1:42 AM
John H.
Prolog
September? 16?, 2582? (Someone please tell me when the Invasion of earth happened! {Halo 2} I will update my timeline accordingly)
Orbital Defense station "Gettysburg"
Solar System, planet Jupiter, moon Ganymede
During Invasion of Earth
Mox slammed his foot into the back of the grunt, sending him flying onto the grenade. Two seconds later it exploded in a fiery ball, sending bloody peaces of grunt and bio suite flying. The tall Elite smiled. He'd get mettle for saving his platoon, and he had never liked that grunt anyway. Mox look back over the mettle barrier that him and his two elites, four jackals, and now three grunts were hiding behind. He saw three humans cowering in a crevice in the wall. "Eat it split chin!" one laughed. Humans. Filth. There very smell hurt his nose.
This room of the human installation was unusually large for a space station. It had a cavernous feel and there were many Earth plants growing in it (Mox had heard some call it "Hydroponics", whatever that meant). It also had some crude pieces of mettle sticking out of the floor that looked liked they had been erected right before they had got to the station. Good cover. "Jackals, advance" he said. The Jackals moved with practiced precision, forming a barrier with there shields. "Elites, cover" He ordered. Three plasma riffles screamed in unison, sending out almost solid streams of energy that slammed into the humans hiding place. "Grunts, plasma grenades" Mox yelled over the plasma riffles. His Grunts through there remaining grenades and the ducked as five explosions rocked the room at once.
The lights went out. "The power team must have done there job, even if at an inopportune time" thought Mox. "No matter, these humans can't see in the dark, and are dead now!" he said allowed. An SMG and one Magnum answered him, firing at random in the dark. Builts pinged of the wall behind him, and one of the two remaining humans scored a lucky hit on a grunts face mask. The plastic broke, and methane started bubbling out. The grunt clutched his throat, oxygen searing the inside of his wind pipe. He went down, writhing in pain.
One human, spurred on by this small victory, advanced from his hiding place. The Jackals, now half way acrosed the room, opened fire and the man disintegrated from the waist down. "NOOOOO!" yelled his companion and ran to his side. He knelt down and cradled the dead man's head in his arms, a tear falling from his cheek. He looked up with an angry look on his face, only to see the outline of an enormous gold plated Elite standing over him, mandibles clicking in pride, amour shields shimmering in the dark. Mox lifted his three fingered fist and back handed the man. He fell on his back, blood oozing from a deep gash on the side of his head. "Please, don't hurt me!" he cried pitifully. Mox put his large foot on the week beings head, planning to crush it in. Then he thought better of it.
He reached down and grabbed the injured human by his shirt and roughly yanked him to his feet, bringing his face close to his. By the light of his shields he could see this human was terrified. "What is your designation?" The Elite commander said in an incredibly deep voice. The human quivered at his every word. "P-please, I d-d-don't want to dye!" he wailed "m-my name is Harding, p-private John Harding!"
"Human Harding, you are now a Covenant prisoner" Mox said. The human lowered his head and started to sob. The other two Elites smiled in sinister anticipation, the remaining grunts started to plan the execution, and the Jackals began arguing about witch parts they would all get (Jackals are always hungry). "NO! This human will dye a different way" Mox said. He tied the humans' arms around his back using a peace of tubing from the life support system of a dead grunt, and forced him to walk in front of the column of troops. They left the dark room, and entered a bright corridor witch had windows on one side. A mighty space battle raged outside, and it was obvious that Mox's brothers in arms were winning.
Sergeant (not private) Harding smiled when they weren't looking. He was faking the whole thing (except the part when his best friend died. They would pay.). He had seen this before. Arrogant Elites almost always let there prisoners live, in order to gloat over them latter. As they stepped into an elevator, John began to form a plan.
This is my first attempt at writing Halo fiction. Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think.
Email me: corbanyoung@yahoo.com
WarriorPoet
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