Then Tartan’s head exploded. Splattered with his brain, skin, blood and skull fragments, the Floodians broke into a panic. All of them began swearing and shouting at the top of their lungs, knocking over the table and grabbing as much of their equipment as they could. One over-eager volunteer, standing next to Corbec, (who was sheltering behind a tree,) hefted his M60 and proceeded to blast away whole belts of ammunition into the trees, destroying saplings, throwing up clods of earth and ripping chunks out of older trees. Then with another [i]crack[/i] his throat was shot out. As the boy toppled backward with a torrent of blood pouring from his throat, Corbec noticed what had happened. There was a sniper out there somewhere, picking them off. Fortunately by now, the others had caught on and dived behind cover. Risking more sniper fire, Corbec stretched out an arm and gripped onto the dying volunteer, then dragged him over. The boy’s face had gone pale from blood loss, and his mouth clacked silent curses-his vocal chords had been shot out with just about every artery and vein in his throat it seemed. Noting the damage dealt, Corbec knew the kid wasn’t going to see the next morning. He reached for his radio earpiece and secured a link between him and JS alone. “JS! JS! You there?” “Yeah, what is it? More importantly, where are you?” “I’m behind cover, and I’ve got a man down. He took a shot to the throat, looks serious.” Corbec glanced at Tartan’s slumped form. “Should I send someone over? I’ll ignore Tartan, looks to me like he’s dead as a doorknob.” JS observed. “You think?” Corbec sneered, cramming as much sarcasm into his tone of voice as possible. “Look, I’ve got orders for you. I’m going out there after this sniper guy, and I'm going to take him out. You’re going to take the survivors and head back to the hill where we left our ammo drop. Hold up there and I’ll come over to you eventually. If I don’t come back or if you don’t hear from me in six hours, assume I died.” “But what about that wounded guy you were on about?” JS asked. Corbec didn’t notice that JS didn’t show concern for him. “He’s already dead.” Corbec said, then broke the connection. The gunshot victim had indeed died of blood loss while Corbec and JS were talking, and already Corbec was snatching as much of his equipment as he needed. Corbec’s trusty AK was slung over his shoulder, so he was alright as far as weaponry was concerned. However, Corbec pilfered the night-vision goggles and grenades that the dead man had left behind, also “borrowing” the volunteer’s compact climbing tool and ammo webbing. After putting on his new webbing, Corbec took a moment to carefully adjust his battered pair of sunglasses. He took a calming breath in, then broke cover. Running to his right-and away from the group-he was ducked down low as he dashed for a stand of tropical Sterculia Foetida bushes, recognisable for the radiant shape its leaves took. As he scrambled for the concealment, there was the [i]crack[/i] of the sniper’s rifle firing and a bullet zipped by, gouging a hole in a nearby Jelutong tree. Leaves tumbled lazily down from its boughs in response. Corbec smiled. From the corner of his eye, he’d spotted the muzzle flash of the unseen assailant. The shooter had taken up a position on the third branch from the ground of some broad-leafed tropical tree. Corbec dived into the Sterculia bushes and went prone while facing where the muzzle flash had last been. If the sniper had any common sense about him, then he would adjust his position before taking another shot. Better still, given the sniper had lost the element of surprise, he or she would withdraw immediately. Clearly the person wasn’t that much of an idiot, as Corbec faintly spotted the silhouette of a person dropping down cautiously from branch to branch. Corbec decided to wait for a few minutes before proceeding. Having spent time as a sniper himself, he knew they were shrewd people, and had no intention of being drawn into one of their traps. JS096 was pissed. Not in the drunk sense, just that Corbec had run off like that again. If the guy just kept gallivanting around, then JS would never get the chance he needed to kill the bastard. He and the survivors were still in their positions, huddled behind trees or using mirrors to scan around the sides without poking their heads out. Remaining there for the next ten minutes, JS finally distributed Corbec’s order. But he had plans of his own. “What do you mean you’re going after him?” Girly Spartan exclaimed, borderline horrified. “I’m going to stop-” JS pulled up short of saying [i]“that dumb prick.”[/i] “I’m going to stop Corbec from getting himself killed.” JS said, lying through his teeth. Of course he wasn’t going to save Corbec, if he had a chance where none of the blasted cameras were watching, he’d shoot the bastard. Heck, he might even act like a retard and make things easier for the enemy to waste him. “At least take some of us with you.” Girly pleaded. “You need everyone you have to secure that hill, Girly. Besides, I’ll be faster alone.” “But-” Girly started. “Girly Spartan, you have command until I return. I’ll try my best to get in contact with you while I’m out there.” Before Girly Spartan could protest anymore, JS was gone. Then it rained. An early sign of the coming wet season that would drench tropical climes such as this in a few weeks time, came sweeping in. This wasn’t rain by the standards of people from temperate regions though. This was a persistent, seemingly never-ending deluge, as if an entire ocean had risen from its depths and suddenly decided to plunge on this tiny landmass. Like standing underneath a waterfall, the vast, broad-leafed trees that made up most of the tropical forest were the only thing providing any kind of cover for anyone caught in the downpour. This frustrated JS’ efforts more than if an entire army of clowns or other such misfits bore down on him in an attempt to kill him with a wide variety weapons while he traversed a bottomless pit packed to capacity with broken glass on a tight rope. With a unicycle. And as anyone who has attempted to do such a feat can tell you, it’s pretty tough. JS had been following three sets of footprints in the ground for about an hour now, and at first it hadn’t been so hard. Then the rains came. At the start, it was clear that two of them had received attempts to be removed, but JS was a professional and saw through the clumsy efforts. One was clearly Corbec’s track, and one had to be the sniper, yet JS was stumped as to who’s the third was. The problem was, the rain was threatening to wash these tracks away… Again, the machete was swinging in to lop his head off. Again, he ducked low and rolled aside to avoid the inevitable downward cleave. But even as he used his momentum to propel himself onto his feet, the viciously sharp knife was sailing in for a stab at his gut. He manoeuvred his AK47 around to deflect the jab, the blade bouncing off of the barrel. He sidestepped another swing of the machete, and this time the weapon lodged in the sucking, muddy earth. Corbec grinned triumphantly, the rain plastering his hair to his head, and bashed the owner in the face with the butt of his AK. The man tumbled onto his rear, gasping as he dropped his machete from one hand and his knife from the other. Corbec was ready to mash a hole in the downed fighter’s forehead with the butt of his gun when the [i]crack[/i] of the damned sniper’s rifle sounded out again. Corbec threw himself backwards, and the poorly-aimed shot whistled into the jungle beyond. Eager to get to safety, Corbec ran to a wide, fallen tree, one end decorated with a bush of dead roots, the other with snapped, withered branches like skeletal fingers. He bounded over it and sheltered behind, even as another bullet whickered by, barely missing his head. The log lay across one side of a more-or-less circular clearing in the forest. However, while no trees grew there, the branches and boughs above still reached over to jealously shield the clearing’s ground from the sky. Corbec, sodden with rainwater, was now wearing his night-vision goggles. It was simply too dark and dim to see anything in detail for him, so even the sickly green hue and fuzzy quality that came with the goggles was better than nothing. For about the last half an hour now, he’d been stuck in these running skirmishes. And the order of the day was always the same. He would follow their tracks, then, the person with the machete and knife would ambush him out of the blue. Invariably, Corbec managed to stave off the surprise attacks, but then the sniper was always there to save the day. Corbec knew that as soon as he beat the first attacker, the sniper would have a perfect angle of fire onto him, as he wouldn’t be caught up in close combat with the sniper’s friend. This was exemplified by what had happened just now. Corbec fought off another ambush, but as soon as he had the upper hand, the sniper also could take a shot without the risk of hitting a friend. What happened afterward was predictable stuff as well. The sniper would carry on plugging put-shots away at him to keep him pinned so his ally could either withdraw, or move on to try and flank him. So, here he was. Trapped in a stalemate he saw no easy end to. [Edited on 08.21.2007 1:23 AM PDT]

[b]Long Live The King.[/b] The Floodians, after their dramatic escape from the doomed communications centre and its successful destruction, were understandably worn out. Many were suffering from flesh wounds such as shrapnel impacts, and all were exhausted after their brief yet vicious encounter with the enemy. Ammunition had been drastically depleted from the engagement, and some items of equipment had been abandoned in the hasty withdrawal. Approximately three hundred enemy combatants had been killed either by the Floodians or their aircraft, and the Forsaken now had no long-range communications equipment. Hopefully, they would have little coordination or situational awareness now. However, only fifteen Floodians, including JS096, Girly Spartan, Mike D Halo King, Tartan 118 and Corbec himself, were still alive. The bedraggled survivors fled the beach they had abseiled down to, and once more entered the thick and concealing tropical forest that covered the entire island. They plodded onward with no real direction or purpose, just with the vague feeling they needed to put some distance between them and the coast. The tree canopy, as the Floodians moved inland, grew ever thicker, cutting off their light more and more. Above the sky was a bizarre pattern of leafy branches, thrown into black silhouettes by the blazing sun beyond. Trudging on silently like automatons, the Floodians might pass into a shaft of light cast through a gap in the canopy. There, they could look up and maybe see a brilliant blue sky, and the hope they could see it clearly again. Minutes of travelling turned to hours, and morale was clearly dropping. The volunteers were shaken at losing so many of their friends, and while JS, Tartan and Corbec had seen or ordered enough killing to be immune, the volunteers had no such experience. Finally, the leading Floodians ordered a halt so the survivors could lick their wounds and recuperate. They had halted on the top of a low hill with a small clearing on the very top, all for one important reason. A relief helicopter. With Mike D Halo King on the radio, JS, Tartan and Corbec organised for a re-supply drop on the top of the hill. They only had to wait fifteen minutes, and a pair of twin engine, tandem rotor heavy-lift helicopters arrived. Using cables attached with electro-magnets, the two helicopters hauled two large cargo crates, releasing them once at ground level. With that, the flying machines left the Floodians to the spoils within their packages. Hoping the drop hadn’t been observed, the Floodians quickly set about opening the wooden crates. In the first crate alone they gleefully found replacement weaponry, plentiful amounts of ammunition, fresh rations and a set of new equipment for Corbec, who had lost all of his in the initial landing. In the second was more ammunition, but more importantly, “Zum Löwen” beer and freshly baked pretzels. Finally, at the very bottom of the second crate was a touching note written by the commanding officer of the [i]Príncipe de Asturias[/i] Aircraft Carrier. The Carrier that the Helicopters had lifted off from. It praised the skill of the Floodians, while mourning the loss of their comrades in the recent attack. On the back, the entire crew, coming in at 685 people, had somehow managed to sign all of their names onto the single sheet of A4 paper. The group-secretly excepting Corbec-was touched by the message. Sensing this, Corbec allowed the group to open up the beer and wolf down a sizeable meal of pretzels and regular rations. Finding a tree stump in the forest around the hill, they cannibalised one of the sides of the crate and put it on top, forming an improvised table. It went against common sense to throw a party while on a hostile island crawling with people baying for their blood, but the reasoning was that they were so far into the jungle, they were essentially untouchable. Corbec, beer in hand, started off the event with the line: “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow… We’re going to kick some serious arse!” Clinking ice-cold cans of beer together, the Floodians then proceeded to try their best to forget those they’d lost recently. Joking and laughing, they let the world fly straight past them while finding out how many pretzels and ration packs they could get inside their mouths at once. Corbec, Tartan and JS, being older than the main body of the troops, let the “young ‘uns” carry on in their little revelry without joining in, preferring to talk amongst themselves. Above them, the sky slowly turned a dull yellow as dusk set in. But by then, Tartan had slowly been coaxed into joining the volunteers in their games. “Go on! Try it!” Girly Spartan said, throwing him an entire pack of rations. “It’ll be fun!” Sighing, Tartan tried to hide his smile and opened up the pack. Suddenly, everyone heard a dull [i]crack[/i], the sound resonating through the jungle.

I want to read this but i don't have time.

So... when are the next chapters coming out?

Hey Corbec. Lol. I think I just printed out about 100 pages.....Lol... I'm gonna do a lot of reading. :) I was stopping and reading while printing it out, and I just kept wanting to read! lol.... I am so glad that you do this! Also. I will try to get the story down, so I can do a drawing for the front page. :) I remember I was supposed to do that, but I never got to it. :(

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Sniper McGee [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Girly Spartan Well, after going to sleeping over the problem, I think I can handle the pain. ;)[/quote] [url=http://www.healthbolt.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/02/f_cheer.gif]lawlz it's you.[/url][/quote] Thanks... Yes, leave it up to a gyu to do the cute cuddly nicknames.

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Girly Spartan Well, after going to sleeping over the problem, I think I can handle the pain. ;)[/quote] [url=http://www.healthbolt.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/02/f_cheer.gif]lawlz it's you.[/url]

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Sniper McGee [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Girly Spartan ..... I won't even ask [i]Chocolate Bear[/i]....[/quote] If you keep this up I'll ask Demon to give you a cuddly name.[/quote] Well, after going to sleeping over the problem, I think I can handle the pain. ;)

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Girly Spartan ..... I won't even ask [i]Chocolate Bear[/i]....[/quote] If you keep this up I'll ask Demon to give you a cuddly name.

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Sniper McGee Goddammit, Corbec! I demand more stories! I'm not afraid to start an angry mob (with cyber torches and pitchforks, of course).[/quote] ..... I won't even ask [i]Chocolate Bear[/i]....

I can't believe you killed me. :( Meanie! You are so lucky that I am going on a 3 hour drive today... Imma print out all that I have not read, and read them. :P

Goddammit, Corbec! I demand more stories! I'm not afraid to start an angry mob (with cyber torches and pitchforks, of course).

Can I be in the story?

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] spartan876 I have Mark VII MJOLNIR armor so..... i go into the death games of the empror if they are going....? and I help you?[/quote] I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you are saying. Please elaborate, or repeat, or whatever.

Um... you might want to read the others. considering this story has NOTHING to do with Halo, except that it is based on a forum, on the bungie website.

nevermind this post i edited then [Edited on 08.06.2007 6:53 PM PDT]

look on the 8th page [Edited on 08.06.2007 6:53 PM PDT]

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Sniper McGee whoever doesn't read them should be hanged by their entrails.[/quote] My sentiment exactly!

I can finally praise your greatness! ^.^ These are some great stories, and whoever doesn't read them should be hanged by their entrails.

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Snap017 Damnit...did I die?[/quote] There's a reason why people don't get mentioned in situations like that...

Damnit...did I die? I think I did. This SUCKS. Still, amazing story, even if I *might have* died.

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Pyroshark Well, you see, I have a song I'd like to sing about that... >_> <_< -Pyroshark-[/quote] I'm going to kill a box full of kittens unless I see some new stuff aout 'Darkly soon. Soon being today...

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Colonel Corbec [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Pyroshark Corbec = am win. [/quote] I should so sig that. And in other news, when am I going to get Through a Forum, Darkly?[/quote] Well, you see, I have a song I'd like to sing about that... >_> <_< -Pyroshark-

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Pyroshark Corbec = am win. [/quote] I should so sig that. And in other news, when am I going to get Through a Forum, Darkly?

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Colonel Corbec [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] js2096 Then I looked at it and all I can say is that you sir, are a liar.[/quote] Who, me?[/quote] When would it ever be you?

Corbec = am win. That is all. -Pyroshark-