Master Chief versus The Corporation by Samurai Fresh
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Master Chief's Trials
Date: 11 June 2007, 8:37 am
The sun broke out from the yellow mountains shining into the fog covered land. The homes of the ground squirrels had shunned their cover of darkness and accepted the warming sunlight. The cold morning frost collected onto itself into little droplets of dew. Each dew drop quenched the leaves of each fern bush. A sparrow looked up towards the burning sky and chirped its cherub song.
Dawn had awakened.
About thirty miles from the blissful wildlife paradise was a project. The "P.J.'s" if you'd like to call it. The project housed many scum and villainry that it could muster. From top to bottom, filth covered the project. Whether it be mud, dirt, or even fecal matter; this project made a dumpster look divine.
But it was in this project where our hero resided. The time became 7:30. Billy Idol blasted from the speakers of the alarm clock. With a sleepy eye, Master Chief pressed the snooze button on the clock.
'Why do these meetings always have to be so damn early in the morning?' Master Chief swore to himself.
He sat up in bed. The sunlight gleamed through the drapes of his window. His one bedroom apartment was filled with empty gatorade bottles, snicker wrappers, and an unused condom. Master Chief blinked awhile and started his morning routine. He gave his butt a nice scratch.
Like always, Master Chief had slept in his clothes. His wife beater was covered in that special Quizno sauce after that midnight run. Life wasn't always this depressing for Master Chief. Five years ago, he was blasting down covenant aliens from the far reaches of space. Surviving from the covenant threat. Now with the war gone, Master Chief found himself only trying to survive against bankruptcy. It was a far crueler world that battlefront.
After wars, the world moves on. Heroes become part of the past. Life becomes and remains unfair. Master Chief suited up in his MJOLNIR armor. As he gazed into the bathroom mirror, he asked himself the most important question a man asks himself.
Which tie would he wear today?
Would it be the fanciful blue squares with the light blue background? Or would Master Chief settle for the solid black one? Master Chief first placed on his 'blue squares' tie and flexed in the mirror. Something didn't feel right. This tie made him seem immature and flaunty. He didn't want to seem unprofessional at the work place. But that solid black tie just seemed so...dull. Solid black? Who gave him that god-awful tie in the first place? Was it some sort of sickly joke? Or was it that one tie Katy got for him for their anniversary. Whichever its origin was, it was a terrible tie. Solid black, heh.
Master Chief decided to bite the bullet and take the 'blue squares' tie. With a bit of straightening and a splash of starch, the tie looked good on him. Master Chief nodded in agreement.
Master Chief polished up his helmet for that nice shine. His hands grabbed a handful of helmet polish and, without a thought, he smushed it into his helmet.
"yea, Master Chief. Who's that man with the shiny helm? Oh, he's a ladykiller, that Master Chief is. He's just one bad mother-Shut your mouth! I'm just talking about Master Chief!" Master Chief continued stroking his ego while his helmet became shinier.
Eight rolled around and Master Chief headed out the door. No time for coffee, it would probably be better if he could get some at the office. More convenient that way. Also, the coffee maker had been making some odd noises lately. Sort of like these 'blush, blush' noise. Might have been the water moving about. Or maybe it was from the night, Franky converted it into a working bong. Franky's such an awesome guy. It's a shame he got arrested for holding heroin. Shady man, but a good friend.
Master Chief locked the wooden door to his apartment. As the lock clicked, he pulled out the key. Apartment 69. Heh, heh. Great number. Master Chief walked down the stairs to the bottom floor. His neighbor, Ghavix, had left his door open.
Ghavix was an arbiter who, with many others, had opted to live at Earth after the treaty after the war. Ghavix had seen the worst of mankind. After years of mistreatment and racism, Ghavix became a cocane addict. To Ghavix, cocane was the only alternative. Its father had died in the war and its mother remarried. Ghavix left the homestead when it was only 13 years of age. Life gave Ghavix a tough hand and Ghavix took it like a man-well an alien would.
Ghavix was lying sprawled out on the floor. Its face was covered in a white powder. Blood trickled down its cheek as the comotose Arbiter foamed at the mouth. It seemed that it had mistaken heroin for cocane. That crazy night had taken out the best from Ghavix and changed him. He was no longer that neighbor that would borrow things and sell them right behind your back. Now, Ghavix was a corpse. A smelly, drooling corpse.
Without a thought in mind, Master Chief pulled open the giant door from the projects and headed for his vehicle. Master Chief drove a Mazda Astina. The left door corroded with rust and the inside smelt of a mix of pot and wet doritos. It wasn't the best vehicle of choice, but when you're a divorcee living in the projects you don't choose the car you drive.
Master Chief fixed his rear-view mirror and began his trip to the office...
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