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Joining the Fray
Posted By: Lodurr<lodurr8@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 January 2000, 5:41 a.m.
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As in most of all of the movies I have ever seen, books I have ever read, and computer games I have ever played, I am rooting for the bad guy in Halo.
1041.
I can't wait to get on the ring. My comrades tell me to be patient, I won't. My commander tells me to be patient, I still won't. Even if God Itself told me, I wouldn't. I know in my blood they are evil. I can smell their wretchedness across space. I smelt it before I left with the ship.
Every day I see myself jamming my God's knife through their stomach, smashing holes through their tanks with my God's cannon. I see their soft pink flesh exposed under their false skin after I tear it off of them.
As soon as we catch sight of one of them, I'm going to break ranks. I've already told some others of my plan, and they said they'd go with me if I did. I won't need my God's cannon--I'll charge at them with only my God's knife out. Their bullets won't touch me, for I know they're fake. Just like their whole race and their whole society. Their bullets are just like their fake gods flying at me. Only my God will lead me true!
1042.
As I look back on yesterday's entry I feel an urge to commit suicide. But my God told me not to.
I should've known I couldn't hide my plan from my God. After inscribing my entry on my personal pad yesterday, I was called to Its chamber. I was brought before the door with Its symbol on it. My escorts left me, and the door opened. A burst of light came from the room before I could see in, light twice as bright as the sun. I fell to my knees immediately. I knew It was angry with me.
What It told me I must tell to no one else, It said. But this is my personal pad. No one else may read it.
I am Its chosen one. What I feel in my blood is true, It told me. Their bullets will not hurt me. I will know the sight of their red liquid spilt across the battlefield. It told me I am a hero. But I must not let anyone else know. If I charge ahead of my group and take them all with just a God's knife, everyone else will know. I must stay in ranks, It said, use my God's cannon until its energy was spent, obey my commanders, even though I know I am better than them. To disobey a commander is the same as disobeying my God directly, for It personally made the commanders what they are.
When I was told this I said I wasn't worthy. I ignited my God's knife and prepared to remove my own head with it. As soon as it ignited, however, it began to fade. It is not my God's will to die. Therefore I will not die.
1043.
Already my comrades have noticed the change in me. I don't let my anger take control in training simulations. When the fake bullets hit me, I don't flinch from the electric shock of the training skin. I rose from 1,060th to drop to the Halo to the 122nd. I leave tomorrow.
I still can't wait.
1044.
I inscribe on my pad today from the ring. Today's slaughter went perfectly.
Our pod fell just a few miles from a group of them. We stepped out of the landing pod, and I sniffed the air. It was that same smell.
I obeyed my commanders, just like It told me. And I reaped the benefits. We were lead over a hill where we could see a stranded group of them already running away from us. Maybe their gods gave them detectors too. Our battalion had no God's gliders, so the commander had us pursue on foot. Quickly we caught up to them, before they made it up the hill on the opposite side of the valley. They were cowards, trying to make it across and find a place to hide. Our commander yelled, "Fire!" just as they started up the hill and we were 50 yards behind them. I raised my God's cannon, as did the rest of my battalion, and started firing.
One of the humans was splattered--one with no fake skin to save it--and I shot one of their warriors as he spun to fire at me. I blew his left arm clear off. He immediately clutched his stump, dropping his gun, and sank to one knee. He wailed loud enough for the home planet to hear, and tried to scramble up the slope to safety. I bore my teeth and fired at him again when my cannon had recovered enough energy. He was finished.
When I looked up at the other humans they were already finding cover behind boulders. Brittle boulders. Boulders that fully powered-up God's cannons could smash through. With those stones soon smashed, the humans began running around, some up the hill, some trying to get around us, while firing at us. I got hit by my first bullet, right in the chest. It didn't hurt. Just like It had told me.
The skirmish continued. I stood my ground, blowing craters in the hill when I missed, melting human flesh and armor with my God's green plasma when I hit. Two of my 20 comrades fell in battle, and we had eliminated nearly half of their original 40--only ten of which had fake skin--when the meter on my God's cannon reached "Empty." I dreamed of this moment last night. I took the cannon and threw it at one of the warriors at the base of the hill as I charged towards him and fired up my God's knife. I shouted a battle cry and held my knife over my head. Bullets started flying towards me more and more, but they couldn't stop me. I wasn't even slowed. They passed through me as though I weren't there. I ran and ran against the volley until finally I reached the marine at the base of the hill and swung down at him with my glowing knife. He was an especially quick rat--he rolled to the side and my knife instead plunged into the ground. I quickly turned to face him again, ripping my knife from the slope. He fired only a few more shots, then threw his gun down and drew a knife from his belt. His didn't glow, bright and holy like mine; it absorbed light, and was as black as the abyss.
He went for the cheap shot--a quick stab to my gut. I swung at his knife with the broad side of mine and batted it away. His god's metal would not melt from the heat, as I had thought it would. I stepped forward and swung for his torso while his knife was out of the way. It sank right into his chest, and red fluid erupted from his armor. The spirit of my God was in me. When it was buried right in his center I lifted him up to the sky, where I knew my God to be, and swung him back towards the ground. He bounced a couple of times, but didn't break. I reached down and grabbed him with my other hand, and then gutted him.
His fluid was not all that he was made of; wires and gears and tiny motors shielded with metal fell out of him too, along with his pink organs. His god must have been generous to him, but his god was not true. His god's metal couldn't save him.
When I finished gutting the rat, I turned to see the hill bathed in the humans' blood and gore. Other Covenant were running through the blood, holding up heads and yelling our God's battle cry; "For our God we cleanse the universe!"
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