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Messages - Sandtrap
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9931
« on: October 31, 2014, 08:19:50 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
I don't know about you, but it's been a good night for me. Very good indeed.
You know, looking back now, I realize I did a lot of work on this piece. It was a spontaneous idea. And I finished it in roughly two days. But I put a lot of time into this. When I say two days, I really mean two days worth of time spent writing. And most of all, looking through it, I realize all the little things I put into this piece.
I looked deep back into my memories of Halo lore. Did some research on what I didn't remember. I found the dates. Did the math on Danielle's age. I even looked up the list of every single Spartan II in canon, and found a service tag that wasn't used. As much as I've always wanted to write about a Spartan, I held off on it. Because to me, their idea, their concept, and in the story, they are respectable people.
I didn't want a mary sue character. I didn't want her to be "outside" of what a Spartan was, and is. So in that regard, when I started this, from the beginning, I created a character for the sole purpose of killing them. I played my sad music as I wrote the ending, paused and took breaks to clear my head.
I don't know about you, but this piece, in some strange way, breaks my heart. But I'm glad that I wrote it. And personally, I don't think I could have done any better. Most of all, it was good to come back to Halo. I haven't written anything in a long time for it. And this shows how much I've changed over the years, as I've put out stories, and grown as a person.
I hope, that in the years to follow, I can keep doing this, pieces of work like this. And I hope, that along the way, that any people who stick around to read what my strange mind can spin up enjoy what I write. I would never trade this for anything.
In all honesty, have you considered the idea of novel writing?
I don't have the drive for novels. I've always been a short story writer. Like a friend of mine says, short stories are just short novels really. But, you can always take a bundle of short stories and make a novel collection of them. And, I probably would have the number of stories to do it. I've got about 36 completed works, and the unfinished ones bump me up to something like 48. But, in the meantime, no, it's never crossed my mind.
This. You should do this.
I actually enjoy novels that are collections of short stories, makes them easier to read through. Like one a night before bed kind of thing.
Something to consider. Anywho, getting late. I am tired now. But, before I go, since I have a feeling you'll be the only one to have a conversation with, what'd ya think about it? Like I said, taking a look at things, it's fucking amazing all the little things I subconsciously crammed into the bit. Little inspirations and so on.
Like I said, I don't think I could have pulled this off any better. But, some external pair of eyes would be nice on the subject. Best parts? Worst parts? That sort of stuff. I even think I pulled all the stops out on grammar as well. Usually miss a few bits and pieces. Anywho, I'll be off. tootles.
As someone who has read most of the Halo novels, I really really appreciate your attention to detail. It even felt like I was reading one of the novels. How fast was that hog going that it was enough to outright kill a hunter? Must've been going pretty damn fast.
The only thing I can really say is that I was slightly confused in the beginning since I connected the name Douglas to the spartan Douglas, but that was quickly cleared up so no big deal.
I'm going with the hog thing. At least one source has mentioned that Hunter armour is made from the same stuff as their warship hull plating.
Aside from that, I read up to certain scenes and the writing is pretty good. You seem to have the attitude of the S-II's in there for sure, the only gripe I have is one tht would make the story in itself impossible as theSpartans were indifferent to the other soldiers. They didn't really care what the overall opinion was as long as it didn't affect their mission. However, staying in accordance with that would make this nul anyway.
Bretty good, much better written and lore-accurate than most things I have read.
Well, see, that's the thing. In the series, every Spartan has had something special about them. Chief is lucky. Reliance on a gut feelings for Kurt I believe. Extreme precision with long range from Linda. So, I based things off that. What was Danielle?
9932
« on: October 31, 2014, 03:28:38 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
I don't know about you, but it's been a good night for me. Very good indeed.
You know, looking back now, I realize I did a lot of work on this piece. It was a spontaneous idea. And I finished it in roughly two days. But I put a lot of time into this. When I say two days, I really mean two days worth of time spent writing. And most of all, looking through it, I realize all the little things I put into this piece.
I looked deep back into my memories of Halo lore. Did some research on what I didn't remember. I found the dates. Did the math on Danielle's age. I even looked up the list of every single Spartan II in canon, and found a service tag that wasn't used. As much as I've always wanted to write about a Spartan, I held off on it. Because to me, their idea, their concept, and in the story, they are respectable people.
I didn't want a mary sue character. I didn't want her to be "outside" of what a Spartan was, and is. So in that regard, when I started this, from the beginning, I created a character for the sole purpose of killing them. I played my sad music as I wrote the ending, paused and took breaks to clear my head.
I don't know about you, but this piece, in some strange way, breaks my heart. But I'm glad that I wrote it. And personally, I don't think I could have done any better. Most of all, it was good to come back to Halo. I haven't written anything in a long time for it. And this shows how much I've changed over the years, as I've put out stories, and grown as a person.
I hope, that in the years to follow, I can keep doing this, pieces of work like this. And I hope, that along the way, that any people who stick around to read what my strange mind can spin up enjoy what I write. I would never trade this for anything.
In all honesty, have you considered the idea of novel writing?
I don't have the drive for novels. I've always been a short story writer. Like a friend of mine says, short stories are just short novels really. But, you can always take a bundle of short stories and make a novel collection of them. And, I probably would have the number of stories to do it. I've got about 36 completed works, and the unfinished ones bump me up to something like 48. But, in the meantime, no, it's never crossed my mind.
This. You should do this.
I actually enjoy novels that are collections of short stories, makes them easier to read through. Like one a night before bed kind of thing.
Something to consider. Anywho, getting late. I am tired now. But, before I go, since I have a feeling you'll be the only one to have a conversation with, what'd ya think about it? Like I said, taking a look at things, it's fucking amazing all the little things I subconsciously crammed into the bit. Little inspirations and so on. Like I said, I don't think I could have pulled this off any better. But, some external pair of eyes would be nice on the subject. Best parts? Worst parts? That sort of stuff. I even think I pulled all the stops out on grammar as well. Usually miss a few bits and pieces. Anywho, I'll be off. tootles.
9933
« on: October 31, 2014, 03:19:13 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
I don't know about you, but it's been a good night for me. Very good indeed.
You know, looking back now, I realize I did a lot of work on this piece. It was a spontaneous idea. And I finished it in roughly two days. But I put a lot of time into this. When I say two days, I really mean two days worth of time spent writing. And most of all, looking through it, I realize all the little things I put into this piece.
I looked deep back into my memories of Halo lore. Did some research on what I didn't remember. I found the dates. Did the math on Danielle's age. I even looked up the list of every single Spartan II in canon, and found a service tag that wasn't used. As much as I've always wanted to write about a Spartan, I held off on it. Because to me, their idea, their concept, and in the story, they are respectable people.
I didn't want a mary sue character. I didn't want her to be "outside" of what a Spartan was, and is. So in that regard, when I started this, from the beginning, I created a character for the sole purpose of killing them. I played my sad music as I wrote the ending, paused and took breaks to clear my head.
I don't know about you, but this piece, in some strange way, breaks my heart. But I'm glad that I wrote it. And personally, I don't think I could have done any better. Most of all, it was good to come back to Halo. I haven't written anything in a long time for it. And this shows how much I've changed over the years, as I've put out stories, and grown as a person.
I hope, that in the years to follow, I can keep doing this, pieces of work like this. And I hope, that along the way, that any people who stick around to read what my strange mind can spin up enjoy what I write. I would never trade this for anything.
In all honesty, have you considered the idea of novel writing?
I don't have the drive for novels. I've always been a short story writer. Like a friend of mine says, short stories are just short novels really. But, you can always take a bundle of short stories and make a novel collection of them. And, I probably would have the number of stories to do it. I've got about 36 completed works, and the unfinished ones bump me up to something like 48. But, in the meantime, no, it's never crossed my mind.
9934
« on: October 31, 2014, 03:16:19 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
Funny how these things work. Everything I've ever written starts out with the simple, sexual aspect of things. But, the world and it's characters are important. And in order for things to be right, the characters have to be real, despite how alien they can be. All too often, despite how much sex is ingrained into our culture, in specific instances, it is shamed. What I write is based off simple, common ground shared between everybody. Sometimes, there's more kinks, and the story is more centered around the sexual bits.
But I always try to do a little more. In the end, it's not the sex. Sexy times are just the icing on the cake so to speak. The real fun is creating and bringing life to worlds and people. Believe me, I've searched for years. Writers in my particular field are rare. I've only ever heard one person who has the exact same views as I do. She coined the term, "Intelligent Erotica." An extremely obscure aspect for most writers of the genre.
Funny enough, a parrallel to why I started writing in the first place. To fill int he gaps and voids for people like me.
I agree, there's definitely not enough out there like this. This is more than just smut because there's a real story, raw emotion, a real connection between the characters, and an exploration into human nature. The sexual interaction is, as you said, just the icing on the cake.
I wish I wasn't so poor with translating my thoughts into words because otherwise I'd say more.
Haha. Just realized something. The zombie abomination that is the reincarnated Anarchy, often lets the uglier side of people out. Drama spills into the forums, and ugly things rear their head. And then, here I am. Mister contrary. Dropping, well, whatever you'd call this off over here.
9935
« on: October 31, 2014, 03:10:31 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
I don't know about you, but it's been a good night for me. Very good indeed. You know, looking back now, I realize I did a lot of work on this piece. It was a spontaneous idea. And I finished it in roughly two days. But I put a lot of time into this. When I say two days, I really mean two days worth of time spent writing. And most of all, looking through it, I realize all the little things I put into this piece. I looked deep back into my memories of Halo lore. Did some research on what I didn't remember. I found the dates. Did the math on Danielle's age. I even looked up the list of every single Spartan II in canon, and found a service tag that wasn't used. As much as I've always wanted to write about a Spartan, I held off on it. Because to me, their idea, their concept, and in the story, they are respectable people. I didn't want a mary sue character. I didn't want her to be "outside" of what a Spartan was, and is. So in that regard, when I started this, from the beginning, I created a character for the sole purpose of killing them. I played my sad music as I wrote the ending, paused and took breaks to clear my head. I don't know about you, but this piece, in some strange way, breaks my heart. But I'm glad that I wrote it. And personally, I don't think I could have done any better. Most of all, it was good to come back to Halo. I haven't written anything in a long time for it. And this shows how much I've changed over the years, as I've put out stories, and grown as a person. I hope, that in the years to follow, I can keep doing this, pieces of work like this. And I hope, that along the way, that any people who stick around to read what my strange mind can spin up enjoy what I write. I would never trade this for anything.
9936
« on: October 31, 2014, 02:58:18 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh.
This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.
I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things.
Told ya I had some class.
I find nothing shameful in this. It's well written, tasteful and clearly had a lot of passion put into it. Anyone that has an issue with this is probably just squeamish about sexual encounters.
I've actually gained a lot more respect from you after reading this.
Funny how these things work. Everything I've ever written starts out with the simple, sexual aspect of things. But, the world and it's characters are important. And in order for things to be right, the characters have to be real, despite how alien they can be. All too often, despite how much sex is ingrained into our culture, in specific instances, it is shamed. What I write is based off simple, common ground shared between everybody. Sometimes, there's more kinks, and the story is more centered around the sexual bits. But I always try to do a little more. In the end, it's not the sex. Sexy times are just the icing on the cake so to speak. The real fun is creating and bringing life to worlds and people. Believe me, I've searched for years. Writers in my particular field are rare. I've only ever heard one person who has the exact same views as I do. She coined the term, "Intelligent Erotica." An extremely obscure aspect for most writers of the genre. Funny enough, a parrallel to why I started writing in the first place. To fill int he gaps and voids for people like me.
9937
« on: October 31, 2014, 02:41:01 AM »
This...this is really good.
Why did you act like this was bad or twisted in any way?
Shhhhhh. This one's an easier going one. In fact I think it's the first ever standard human and human thing I've ever written. Everything else, is different.I keep this close to me, because it's hard to find people who walk this blurred line that I do. But, back to things. Told ya I had some class.
9938
« on: October 31, 2014, 02:15:00 AM »
Why was this account suicide again?
Peasants would call me a writer of erotica. More drama shitstorms have been started over less. Lucky thing I am now free. No shackles.
9939
« on: October 31, 2014, 01:36:56 AM »
Spoiler 3 Days Later Eventually, all good things ended. And the moment shared between Douglas and Danielle came to an abrupt end, when the Covenant finally arrived. And when they did, the UNSC was waiting for them, out of system. Their plan, their trap, had been sprung. The delayed response they had given was a test, while they rallied a fleet on the far end of the system. And like predictions had shown, the Methane Refinery on the small moon in system had sent one last message out before it was gutted inside and out by a small strike team, and then orbital bombardment. But when the Covenant arrived, teeth and claws bared, ready to roll over this small colony world, they were overwhelmed. For one brief moment in UNSC history, one small victory in space was claimed. But the Covenant always had more. Always had the numbers to throw away at their enemy. And they did just that. Exiting through slipspace in the fleet's brief moment of victory, they swarmed in, ravaging the survivors, crippling orbital defenses and shattering through what remained of the defensive fleet. Douglas, Danielle, and every last Helljumper aboard were sent to ground. Space was not their fight. And it was not their grave. With boots on the ground they worked to stall the Covenant for as long as possible as evacuations took place. And it was here, on the ground, amongst burning cities, plasma and ash, that Douglas found himself returning to an all too familiar reality. Except this time, he wasn't alone to face it. Spoiler Douglas fired the chaingun of the warthog in short bursts as it sped through the streets towards its destination, ripping apart a ghost as it made some vain attempt to pursue. The rendezvous point wasn't far. Danielle drove, putting her boot down on the pedal as far as it would go. In the passenger seat, one lone child clutched at himself in fear.
Danielle and Douglas where the last ones. Over the course of the last three days, one by one, good men and women were lost. They had tried to save all they could. And it was only now, in the final moments of the evacuation, that this one lone child had been found, from the ashes of a firefight.
Douglas listened over the comms, as the drop zone was getting increasingly hot. They were losing ground, and they couldn't wait much longer. The warthog sped through the streets, over bumps and craters in the road, making their way outside the city to the burnt ashes of the farmlands outside. Banshees screamed overhead as Douglas opened up, cutting through one of the crafts anti-grav pods, sending it spiraling into the ruined buildings around them.
The drop zone was visible now, the distinct shape of a Pelican. Even from here, Douglas could see and hear the gunfire and smoke of a firefight. Maybe one of the last on the planet. Danielle's eyes could too, but she saw farther. Hunkered down in makeshift barricades, the remaining soldiers defended against an onslaught of various aliens. Elites and Grunts fell before the barriers, as the troopers fought tooth and claw to the last. But most noticeably, the two hulking forms of a Hunter pair, were advancing slowly on the makeshift landing site.
Danielle stopped the warthog to a screeching halt. Douglas spoke through his comms.
"What's wrong!?"
"Hunters. Get out of the warthog. Take the kid."
"What, you want me to go on foot!?"
"We'll never make it past them to the LZ. But you can if I distract them."
Douglas stepped out of the turret, walking around to the driver side.
"Get out. I'm driving."
Danielle stepped out of the driver seat, clad in her pale green suit. Douglas looked over to her as he stepped into the seat.
"Take the kid. You're 10 times faster than me. I'll play chicken with the Hunters."
Danielle didn't look twice as she moved, unstrapping the child from the passenger seat. The child was shocked into silence, but alive. And the two of them intended for all three of them to make it safely back to the LZ. Douglas looked down the street, to the blurs in the distance, taking one last look at Danielle.
"Like throwing a pineapple right? Pull pin."
Danielle nodded.
"Count to three."
Douglas counted down. On three, he put his foot down on the pedal as far as he could. The warthog's engine revved with power as he traveled full speed down the street towards the great blue blurs that began to take shape. Their backs were turned to him. Douglas spoke into the comms as he built up speed.
"Don't you flyboys worry about the Hunters! I've got it covered!"
As the immense forms of the Hunters took shape, Douglas smiled, honking the horn as the warthog crashed into one of the hulking tank like aliens at full speed. Metal bent and crumpled, glass shattered, and Douglas felt something rip through his shoulder as the jeep impaled itself on the spines of one of the Hunters.
The hulking monster collapsed, dead on impact as the second turned, unleashing a roar from its collection of eel like creatures that worked in tandem to give shape to these living tanks. It charged forwards, the great shield it boasted on one arm crashing against the crumpled remains of the warthog, sending it into a roll across the dirt and ash. Douglas was ejected in the roll, and left there, dazed and wounded on the ground as the blue armoured alien stepped closer towards him.
He struggled to do something, anything, as the titanic alien approached. He looked out, beyond the ruins, past the heap of the warthog, to the LZ, not far off. Danielle had made it. The Pelican's engines were powering up as it was getting ready to leave. Douglas brought his attention to the hulking alien as it stepped only a few feet away from him. He smiled, as the alien collection of eels moved something vaguely resembling a head to look down at him in disgust.
The alien lifted a massive boot up, raised into the air above Douglas, preparing to crush him, as Danielle flanked it from the ruins. She moved so fast, so silently, that she was behind it at point blank as she opened up with her assault rifle. The rounds tore through the fleshy exposed midsection of the alien, as it staggered, turning to face her with a roar.
It lashed out with its immense shield, tracing the air where Danielle had been standing only a second ago. It brought its cannon up, charging it with green energy as she circled and fired on its weak spot. The colony of eel like creatures was barely holding together as more rounds tore through them, and in a last act of defiance, it leveled its cannon at Douglas, the smoldering ball of energy charged in full.
As the cannon hummed with power, and the three pronged devices keeping the destructive plasma bolt contained released it, Danielle saw it. Her eyes and her brain registered everything, as she moved, through the ticks as each second wound down. Most people would say that this was what every Spartan would have done. Protecting others. And they were right. But Danielle moved for something more than just the training that ran in her veins, her blood, and her bones.
Her shields flared from the heat as she stepped in front of the cannon, dissipated and broke as it discharged, the plasma bolt breaking across her squarely. Heat burned, so hot, and light, brighter than her eyes and the optics in her helmet could handle washed over her. In Douglas's eyes, it lasted only a second at the most. But Danielle had counted every tick.
And then, it was over. The Hunter collapsed, in a heap of dead or dying eels, clattering to the ground as orange fluids spread out from around it. Danielle dropped to the ground as she flew back from the blast, and remained still. As weak as he was, Douglas found the strength to move. He pulled himself over to the Spartan. He would have liked to emulate a soldier. A man unflinching at whatever fell into his gaze. But he couldn't. He pulled himself over to Danielle, his hands shaking.
"Hey! Get up! Don't you die on me! You're a Spartan!"
No movement. Nothing. Douglas beat his gauntleted hands on her armour.
"GET UP GOD DAMMIT!!!"
Douglas looked out to the Pelican, as a transport warthog rolled up, and was proceeding to empty its civilian passengers out. The gunfire had ceased. The fight was over. It was time to leave. Douglas called out.
"I NEED A GOD DAMN MEDIC OVER HERE!!!"
Danielle raised her hands up, pulling her helmet off. Douglas smiled, patting her on the shoulder.
"There you go! Come on, you're getting out of here!"
Danielle shook her head. Blood streamed from out of the corners of her mouth and from her nose.
"I can't move my legs sir."
Douglas shook his head.
"No, no no, you've got unbreakable bones!"
"My nerves are gone. Burned."
Douglas gripped her chest plate, struggling to stand.
"Then I'll pull you out of here myself then god dammit!!"
Try as he might, with all his strength, he couldn't move her. She was over a thousand pounds in her suit. Danielle smiled.
"You've got a bird to catch soldier. The last one out."
Douglas shook his head, looking back to the Pelican. Troopers stood, on guard waiting, and civilians peeked out from the bay. There wasn't enough time. They had to go now before they became a target. Douglas turned back. He ripped off his helmet.
"I AM NOT. LEAVING YOU BEHIND. IT'S NOT FAIR."
He punched a fist repeatedly against her suit.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!! DON'T YOU THINK FOR A SECOND THAT I'M LEAVING YOU!!!"
Danielle smiled.
"Then make it fair."
She still held her assault rifle nearby, and held it up to Douglas. He nodded, taking the rifle in his hand. He understood. He opened up his comm line and spoke.
"I'm speaking for Spartan 028. We're not catching the last flight out. That's an order."
Silence filled the line, before the pilot spoke.
"Understood sir. Give them hell."
Douglas watched, as only a few hundred meters away, the Pelican took its last passengers, before sealing its doors. Its thrusters powered up, and it began to rise from the makeshift landing site, sending up ash and dirt in its wake. Douglas watched as it rose, up into the air, and gave full power to its thrusters. The craft sped away, leaving the site behind.
In the ash filled skies, the immense shape of a Covenant starship emerged, as it descended through the clouds. It glittered, silver and ornate, and hung there. Its bays opened, and thousands of invasion craft where released. The planet was lost. The battle was over. Whoever was left here knew their fate. Douglas hobbled over to the remains of the warthog. The turret lay in the street, among the ruins. He grabbed it with both hands, and hauled it with him, setting it back down beside Danielle. She was going pale. Whiter than even her own skin. He bent down, looking into her steel blue eyes.
"Don't you give up on me yet. You're not done yet. You hear me! We've still got to give them a show."
Douglas reloaded the AR in his hands. Danielle reached out, gripping the turret in one of her armoured hands. He smiled, nodding.
"That's the Spartan I know."
Danielle spoke.
"I need my helmet. I need to finish something."
Douglas reached out, handing it to her. She slid it back on. Danielle's eyes opened up files. A roster. Every Spartan II who ever lived, or died. And there she was. 028. She updated the roster, her name. Taking her helmet off, she tossed it away. Douglas sat beside her, the AR in his lap.
"Douglas. It was an honour."
"No. It was all mine ma'am."
The whine of a phantom's engines could be heard above the drone and howl of the wind through the burnt city, distant at first. But the hum of the engines grew stronger. Douglas looked down at the woman laying at his side. He wiped the blood away at the corners of her mouth. He leaned down and kissed her, this time, something that was returned. He broke away, watching her eyes.
"I love you."
The soldier beneath him, tall, stoic, mythical, and everything else between stared back at him. She wasn't a soldier. She was a person. She was the best they could make her. And she tried, to make things fair. She smiled back, only something Douglas had ever seen.
"I love you too."
Douglas broke, at the words. Words he'd never thought he'd hear returned to him, by someone like her. He checked the rounds on his assault rifle. He was going to make things fair for her. She wasn't going to be alone for it. The whine of the phantoms engines grew stronger now. He stroked a hand across her face.
"Ready to send them to hell?"
With strength in her augmented body that persisted beyond her burns, and the radiation dosage that was killing her, she lifted the warthog chaingun up, checking the ammunition belt. She looked up, with Human eyes to Douglas.
"Feet first." Spoiler Spartan II Candidate Roster update
Service Tag 028- Danielle- MIA, October 3rd, 2545
Addon/Extension/Joint file found, honorable mentions
Service Tag 0587- Douglas Allen- MIA, October 3rd, 2545
———————————————————————————————- And, with that, bring out your pitchforks folks. I have commited sudoku upon myself. No regrets.
9940
« on: October 31, 2014, 01:29:08 AM »
Spoiler For the first time in years, Douglas walked with a clear purpose. Something in his bones, in his heart, called him into action. It didn't take long for him to figure out where the Spartan had gone. She was Human all the same. Needed rest, like any other. Her quarters were located close to the captains, among high ranking officers.
He approached the door, knocking on it. He stood in anticipation, waiting. And then the door slid open, as a tall, stoic woman looked down at him. He looked up, giving her a smile.
"Evening ma'am. Can I talk with you? I won't be long, you have my word."
Danielle stepped back, and Douglas stepped in, as the door closed behind him. Her room was simple, undisturbed, clean. A small port window let starlight filter into the room. He looked up to the Spartan, who was still wearing her basic uniform.
"I want to say something. Before I can't. I know you're not big on conversation, so I'll keep this quick."
Awkward as ever, Danielle watched him, arms at her side, silent.
"I'm sorry, about earlier. I made a mistake. But I'd like to thank you. What you did for me. What you did for my life. You tried your best to save my son. But you couldn't. None of us could. It was too late. But you tried anyway. And then, you saved my life. Twice, in fact. And I never thanked you. I don't think anyone ever has."
Douglas looked at the medals across Danielle's uniform.
"The UNSC takes pride in you. Gives you medals. Makes you, and the other Spartans idols. But they don't understand. To them, you're a piece of equipment. But what you did for me, last night, in the gym, I can't ever repay you. You never hit me. Never insulted me. And, were gentle, where a soldier would have given me a boot in the ass and told me to buck up, or they would have discharged me."
Douglas watched Danielle's eye's closely, in the twilight of her room. She was quiet. Her face was cold. But her eyes watched his.
"You're more than a soldier. And I want you to know that. You don't see it. But I do. You're so much more than a soldier. You're the best of the best. You're not even a Spartan. You..... you are..... beautiful. And I'm proud to call you my better."
Douglas stood in a hush, waiting. Danielle's eyes traveled back and forth somewhat erratically, before returning to him again. She looked down at him.
"Thank you, Douglas."
He saluted, standing up straight.
"I'll be leaving now ma'am. You need sleep. I won't keep you."
Danielle leaned down, coming up to eye level with Douglas.
"I don't need much sleep. Three hours at the most."
She watched him, staying still. Douglas knew she was awkward socially. She'd never make a move. That wasn't who she was. He didn't even know why she said it. He struggled with himself internally. But as he looked up into the steely blue eyes of hers, he gave up. He leaned forward again, kissing her. He broke away slowly.
"I'm sorry. You'll have to file another report about me. Or throw me out yourself."
Danielle stood back to her full height.
"I never did file a report sir. I didn't think it was a breach in conduct."
Douglas smiled. She was awkward. But she was smart.
"So, what did you think it was then, ma'am?"
"I believe there are rules against specialized personnel engaging in active relationships in the workplace. But my line of work as specialized military personnel, is different. Currently, I am not on duty or at the workplace unless my boots are on the ground sir."
Douglas smiled.
"A loophole? Seriously?"
Danielle nodded. Douglas stepped closer to her.
"So, what do we do now?"
Danielle spoke, rather bluntly.
"A result of my augmentations is a reduced sex drive. Spartans don't feel the need or want to procreate."
Douglas raised his hands.
"Whoa, slow down there ma'am! We were talking a relationship just a few minutes ago. That's a different ballpark."
Danielle crossed her arms behind her back.
"Then what did you have in mind?"
Douglas shrugged.
"I don't really know. I think you're just, well, beautiful ma'am. I'd just like to spend time around you, outside of combat."
The Spartan nodded.
"Casual talk. In the medical wing."
Douglas nodded.
"Yes ma'am."
Danielle stepped up to Douglas, lowering herself down to eye level with him.
"Ma'am, this wasn't what I had in mind."
Danielle's lips creased upwards, just barely.
"This seems to be what casual talk in the medical wing was, sir."
"Do you ever say anything straight out?"
"No sir. Trained to think tactically."
Douglas leaned forward, helpless to Danielle's awkward attempts at conversing with him by taking the initiative. He couldn't help it. He pressed his lips against hers again, this time, bringing his hands up to her smooth face. Danielle was right. She had no sense for romance or interaction beyond military actions. But she was irresistible. Her lips were unresponsive, and clumsy to his actions. He was alien to her. Douglas broke away from her, but had an idea. He watched her eyes as he slid his hands down her neck. There was something, ironically, that she wasn't foreign to. She didn't even flinch at it.
"Ma'am, I'm going to ask you to relax."
Douglas slid his hands down, to the base of her simple uniform's top. He pulled on the material, sliding it upwards. Danielle did not resist, and raised her arms up to pull her top off. Douglas couldn't reach all the way, but Danielle understood, as she slid her top off for him. And with another simple tug and pull, Danielle slid her pants down. In the starlight, she was exposed to him. And this time, he didn't turn away, or avert his eyes.
"Tell me about your augments."
Spoiler Douglas eventually favored sitting down, to which Danielle's bed was a welcome relief. Douglas started something. Something new to Danielle. He learned quickly enough, that while nudity was not a bother to her, touch was. It was foreign and alien to her. And he made a game of sorts with it. Her body was exposed to him completely. And he was entranced by her.
He started with her face, the first and only part of her that she was mildly comfortable with to being exposed. He traced his fingers around her eyes, inhumanly fast, and coloured with that blue metallic sheen. Two scars could be found, parallel to one another, on the sides of her eyes, where the first of several key injections were made on the nerves, enhancing her vision. She could see in the dark, and her eyes adjusted to light nearly instantly.
Danielle's skin was a cross between smooth, fare and beautiful in its paleness, and rough, jagged and broken, from a lifetime of war. Douglas traveled down her neck, to her back, the first side of her he had seen. He slid his hands down her spine, asking what was done. He never made a point to ask what part of her he was curious about. He touched first, and then asked. He could feel the vertebrae, enhanced by machinery, a neural link that was necessary for her suit to function. She shivered visibly at his touch, but never asked him to stop.
Her back shoulder plates, where two incisions were made, injections into her back muscles. His hands roamed downwards, creasing her spine once more, enticing a shiver from her. More incisions, down below, at her waist and lower back. Douglas slid past her hips, to her legs. Running his hands along, until he could go no further, he returned to the start of things.
Danielle, in his eyes, was perfection. She was like an Olympic athlete. But more. Her body was toned, wiry muscle everywhere, and yet, she retained a feminine form of sorts, graced with pale, soft skin. Her bones were augmented with injections, growing them to be twice as dense, and in necessary areas, grafted and coated with a carbon fiber alloy that rendered them unbreakable. But she seemed so fragile, away from her suit, and exposed like this.
As she shifted, and her front side was bared to him, Douglas looked on, in a strange state. It was horrible, really. She had no childhood. Raised from the age of six to be a soldier. A living weapon. At 14, she underwent augmentations. But in the starlight, she was here now. And despite what seemed like almost cruel experiments conducted and revived from a long dead past of Humankind, Danielle was beautiful with them.
Douglas explored her arms, all the way down to her fingers, and then returned once more to her neck, traveling downward, across her chest. Danielle had little in the way of breasts, most of her body fat being absent under sheer strength and presence of muscle. But there was still something there. Her stomach, like everything else, smooth and toned, filled with a wiry strength.
Danielle remained silent through the entire exchange, her steel blue eyes focused only on Douglas's. She shivered to every new touch, every prod and caress, and then answered the questions that followed. Over time, she grew more comfortable with touch. She still felt vulnerable, outside of her suit. But the touch was nice.
Douglas was gentle, just like she had always been with him. Careful, and controlled. His hands roamed lower, eventually finding themselves in between her thighs. And there, something sparked. He saw it, in her eyes. It wasn't much. The drugs and augments had done more than wear down her sex drive. They had dulled her to pain. Dulled her to pleasure. But she had never been touched in such a way before.
And so a spark ignited. The touch was no longer alien. No longer foreign. It was good. It felt good. And Danielle wanted more. Every gentle motion sent shivers up her augmented spine, like a wave of adrenaline. She was trained, conditioned for that. Spartans were at home on the ground. Comfortable in war, and combat. One could almost say, that their bodies were conditioned to take pleasure from the adrenaline spikes.
But this was different. It was something Danielle had never felt before. And the more Douglas caressed and touched, the hotter, and better things became. More resulted in more. A buzz, in the back of her skull, in her head, grew in strength. And, slowly, what was once alien to her, became a need and a want. And Douglas saw it.
He changed position, leaning up against the wall, using her pillows for support and comfort. He pulled Danielle close, wrapping one arm around her waist, clinging to her form. As the buzz grew, like a drug, she was compelled. One of her own hands traveled down, along her own body. Douglas was there with her, his hand gliding over top of hers. He merely mirrored her motions, but watched as what started took a life of its own now.
Somewhere, in the heat of it all, Douglas had managed to slide his shirt off, and reveled in the feeling of Danielle's back as it pressed against him. He was getting caught up in things now as well. But he wasn't caught in the wake of his own need for pleasure. He wanted Danielle to feel it. As her body became entranced with the new sensations and she grew more focused on herself, Douglas decided to add a new element.
As his hand mirrored her motions atop of hers, he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. He felt the shiver run down her spine, and he did it again, feeling her muscles tense. It didn't take long. But Douglas was caught in her wake now as well. Her pleasure was his. His curiosity to explore her intensified. His hand slid up her chest, to one of the small mounds that a self-conscious woman would have frowned at. To Douglas, he didn't care. He wouldn't change Danielle in any way.
He cupped her breast, and tweaked her nipple. Another dulled sensitive area now ignited, and everything finally added up. The new sensation, the addictive pleasure traveled up and down her spine like fire, going all the way up to her head, as her steel blue eyes widened, and finally, her lips parted, and a moan escaped. It rose in intensity, and Douglas brought a hand up to her mouth, cupping it over her lips gently.
He loved it. He loved her. This super soldier. This goddess. A weapon of war, cold of mind and a body of steel, was trapped in the throes of pleasure. Her hand grew bold, and Douglas finally separated his from hers, but continued to tease her right alongside her own. Her idle hand cupped one of her breasts, as Douglas kissed her neck and her shoulders, his grip growing stronger the louder and more intense her moans became.
And as their pleasure rose higher and higher, and the buzz in the Spartan's head grew stronger, more consuming, Douglas could feel it coming. Her chest heaved, and her muscles tensed. Her moans were constant, her need to climb higher fueling the fire. And he realized. This was her first. He gripped her soft lips tightly, as she climbed higher, and higher, and then, released.
She leaned back, pressing her body against his, as her moans became one long shout as she gasped for air. Her steel blue eyes rolled, and Douglas held her hand, keeping it there as she persisted, even as her high released itself. And as things slowed, and her muscles relaxed, she went slack against Douglas, her breathing slowing to a crawl in the wake of her very first, as he clutched her gently. Spoiler Danielle hadn't spoken a word since. But she lay over top of him, resting. Douglas couldn't keep his hands off her, clinging to her. He pulled the blanket up over her, as they rested in the starlight. Douglas ran a hand across her shaved head, to the pale blonde ponytail, the only patch of hair she ever kept longer than buzz cut. She was awake. He knew that. But she was in a state of peace. Something he had given to her, outside of her suit.
He leaned in close, setting his head down on her shoulder as he spoke quietly into her ear.
"I don't..... know what this is ma'am."
His hands found hers, clasping them. She gripped his back, gently.
"And I'm not stupid. Me and you, would never work. I can't go where you can. And I know they wouldn't let you retire early."
Douglas kissed the back of her neck, feeling that shiver travel through once more.
"But right now, I just want to enjoy this, with you. I can't properly describe how you make me feel. But I guess actions are better than words for you, right?"
Danielle turned her head to Douglas, the starlight catching in her eyes.
"Spoken like a true Helljumper, sir."
Douglas nodded.
"Ma'am. Permission to continue?"
He waited. Knew it was coming. But when it arrived, nothing beat it. A Spartan's smile. So small you could miss it.
"Permission granted." Spoiler Their movements were awkward, at first. By now, Douglas had managed to strip out of everything. And under the cover of a thin blanket, Danielle had laid down. Douglass was over top of her, watching.
"I'm guessing, this is your first time ma'am?"
Danielle nodded.
"I'll go gentle."
Her steel blue eyes watched his closely.
"Do I look like you need to be gentle, sir?"
She was right. She was almost twice his size. Strength and raw power. But there was a subtle grace and beauty in her features. He looked up to her jaw. He had punched her, given her the fullest extent of everything he had. His fist rebounded off her jaw like a wall. She didn't even flinch, or blink. And as he looked over her, he noted just a slight bruise on her skin, on her jaw. And it reminded him of who he was, just a night or two ago.
"No. You can take whatever I can give. I don't need to. But you deserve it."
Douglas pushed, slowly, watching her eyes. Her face was hard to read. Spartans would make good players of poker. But he saw it, again, in her eyes. A second spark. And now that she was a little more familiar with this feeling, she wanted it again. Douglas pushed, slowly, giving her the chance to get used to it. And then he encountered resistance.
But he had another idea. He leaned down, reaching out for her hands, as he wound his fingers in hers. He spoke, softly.
"It's a bit like throwing a pineapple ma'am. Pull pin."
Danielle finished it for him.
"Count to three."
Douglas spoke.
"1."
Danielle spoke.
"2."
Douglas waited, holding off just a few seconds, admiring the woman below him. No fear, of anything.
"3."
Douglas pushed, and watched her face, watched her eyes. He felt her grip increase on his hands, just slightly, as he pushed, all the way. Another fire started. Another buzz, in her head, that drowned out the world. Drowned out her training. And she watched through her eyes, enhanced beyond that of a Human's. Spartans reacted faster than any other Human being ever born. Time, for them, was different. Seconds flowed slower, in ticks and increments. The world around them moved in slow motion, just barely.
And as Danielle watched this man, this soldier, felt her nerves light up because of him, felt something new, and intoxicating, something in her head told her that he was more than a friend. These moments, moving in slow motion for her, lasting for what seemed like a true eternity, where special. And now, she was likely the only one of her kind to know this. Know what it felt like, to be truly loved.
There was nothing truly unique about their actions. Douglas started slow but as his own body succumbed to baser instincts, he moved long past going slow. But that was okay. She wanted him to. In hushed breaths, as she cradled his hands in hers, a connection was formed. He watched her eyes, never leaving hers. And she watched him, never leaving his.
The two climbed up again, higher and faster, as Douglas picked up speed. He leaned down, wanting to be close to her as much as possible. She arched her back, lifting herself up off the bed. One hand of his broke its entwined fingers with hers, as he clutched at her back, pulling her up. Her height difference made some problems for Douglas. He wanted so desperately to kiss her. But he had to make do with her stomach and chest, sending more shivers across her body with kisses.
Hushed breaths became moans, but this time, stifled and controlled. Douglas watched as Danielle's body rippled, muscles tensed and released, and what remained of her womanly figure still bounced as he persisted, harder and faster. By contrast, the ship was cold. But here, in this moment, all by themselves, they were warm. Sweat and heat shared between the two, as they clutched at one another, wanting more.
Danielle always acted on her training. Followed what she knew to the letter. But now her instincts had taken over. She moved now, shifting and changing position, easily overpowering Douglas. He was pushed into a sitting position on the bed now, as she was on top of him. She could feel it coming. And she wanted to be ready for it.
Douglas slid his hands from her hips as she rocked on top of him, down her smooth backside, helping her in her motions. And then he felt it. He wasn't far away. Only a few more seconds if she kept this up. Douglas wanted to stay like this, for as long as he could. But he realize that he couldn't do this to her. If he got her pregnant, if she was even capable of it..... it would ruin her. She would be an outcast.
But as he tried to pull away and slow things down, Danielle wrapped her legs around his waist, trapping him. She knew what was coming. And she didn't want to stop it. She rocked harder and harder, as she leaned down, wrapping her arms around Douglas, in heated moans, and at last, at long last, in slow motion, she felt it. Release, a great fire and warmth. She clutched Douglas tight, pressing every last inch of herself as close to him as possible.
The two rode to their peak together, their limit tested and broken, as they unwound from one another, laying down to rest in their moment of quiet. Douglas kissed her, over and over, never wanting to leave her soft lips behind. Night fell on the ship, washed over Douglas, over Danielle, and they stayed in bed together, content. Douglas pulled her close, clutching and yearning for her warmth, as the two fell asleep.
9941
« on: October 31, 2014, 01:12:20 AM »
Fucking Cheat, why u no allow more than 25,000 characters!? What is this!? Paragraphs for pre-schoolers!? Spoiler Douglas woke up, sweat covering his entire body, as he roused in bed and leaned his feet over his bunk. The nightmare, bad memories, old and buried, stayed fresh in his mind. He looked at his helmet, which he had knocked over in the commotion. He reached down, picking it up, as he tore the chip out of its slot. He didn't know what time it was. But it didn't matter. Rising up from his bed, he walked out of the sleeping quarters, taking little care to be quiet on his way out, as he passed by rows of bunks filled with sleeping men. He needed to find the Spartan.
He passed some familiar faces aboard the ship, night crew who stayed up late or took night shifts. But he wasn't concerned with any of them. He passed by the cafeteria, the hangar bay, every place he could think of. The Spartan didn't seem like one to rest often. And then he had it. The gym.
Sure enough, as Douglas strode through the doors, the Spartan was easily spotted, jogging along the track, still clad in her suit. He approached quickly, walking across the track.
"I need to speak to you. Now."
The Spartan came to a stop, standing at attention.
"Sir."
Douglas pointed a finger at her.
"Cut that shit out, now. I already told you I'm a god damn person."
The Spartan remained quiet. Douglas held the chip up.
"You know me, don't you?"
The Spartan reached out, taking the chip and slotting it back into her helmet.
"Yes sir."
Douglas waved a finger at her.
"No. No no no. You saw me. You knew who I was, didn't you?"
The Spartan stood tall above him, her arms at her side.
"I don't understand sir."
"What's your name?"
"Spartan 028, Danielle, sir."
Douglas could hardly make out the number on her chest plate, blurred and faded with age. But it was still there. But the words still hit him like a brick wall. He nodded.
"You. You were there. 2530."
He couldn't tell what was going on through the helmet, and the visor that eternally shut the Spartan's face out. But the voice that greeted him, monotone, but soft, feminine, had something else in it.
"The Sidonus Massacres."
Douglas nodded. It had been a very long time since he'd ever tread upon those memories. He looked up, to the tall, stoic soldier before him. Tears, and anger, and pain came rushing back, as he remembered.
"You were there! You remember my face! And you said nothing this entire god damn time! How!? How could you-"
The Spartan did something he'd never seen before. She turned around and walked away. Douglas was shocked, dropping what he was going to say as the woman simply walked away. Anger filled him and he pursued.
"DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!!!"
The woman turned, and stopped. Douglas strode up to her, as she reached out, like lightening, and held him by the shoulders, looking down at him.
"Take two steps back."
Douglas's mind was left in tatters, as the Spartan was running circles around him.
"What?"
"Take two steps back in the ring."
Douglas understood. They were standing in the hand to hand ring. As he backed away, the Spartan stood tall, for just a moment. The woman brought her hands up to her helmet, and Douglas heard the telltale sound of air escaping as the seals clicked and released. As the helmet slid off, the face of a woman was revealed.
Almost as alien as the Covenant. Pale skin, white from having never seen the sun. Striking blue grey eyes, augmented beyond that of a normal Human, watched him. Pale lips, and a smooth face, of a woman roughly in her mid-30's greeted him. Most of her hair was gone, shaved away, save for the smallest patch of blonde bundled up into a ponytail that was likely cut down to regulation length to the last centimeter. Even the Spartan's hair was almost bleached white, never having seen the light of day. She crouched low, bringing her armoured fists up.
"Hit me."
Douglas had done this dance before. He knew what it was. Among soldiers, marines. Stress relief. A way to talk when a soldier was never supposed to talk. Douglas brought both of his fists up, and the two began circling each other in the ring. The Spartan stepped closer, crouching low enough that she was almost level with Douglas. Her inhuman steely eyes tracked him as she spoke.
"Why are you angry?"
Douglas lashed out with a quick jab, being deflected by the Spartan with utter ease.
"You're a machine."
The Spartan jabbed, to which Douglas deflected. Anger rose in him. She could beat him here and now in one punch. She was holding back. She spoke again.
"Why are you angry?"
"You're a robot! The brass points, you shoot! Like a wind up soldier!"
"No."
Douglas tried his luck once more, to which he was deflected as if his blow was that of a child's.
"Why are you angry?"
"You never told me. You could have told me this entire time."
The Spartan jabbed, and Douglas deflected. Her gauntlets, solid masses of armour, slid off his wrists so softly he barely even felt it. It infuriated him. The woman watched him, still, with her cold eyes.
"That's not why you're angry soldier! You're lying!"
Douglas lashed out, with a harder punch this time.
"You didn't save them!"
The Spartan deflected him with ease.
"No, I didn't. But you don't care about that. You don't give a shit about them."
Douglas lashed out with all his strength,
"YOU DIDN'T SAVE HIM!!"
His punch flew past her fists, as she let them down, and connected with her jaw, square and firm. Before he'd even realized what he'd done the Spartan moved, twisting his arm as she stepped around him faster than he could register, as she gripped his other arm, and knocked him to the ground, as she placed a boot against his back.
"No. I didn't. But I tried. I try, for every single one of them. But I can't save all of them."
Douglas spoke, through either rage or grief, he couldn't tell anymore.
"You're supposed to be the best! Invincible! A Spartan!"
The boot was taken off of Douglas as he was rolled over. The Spartan loomed over him, even as she bent down. She brought a hand up to her jaw, pointing at where he'd hit her.
"I'm not. I do the best I can. But you can't win them all. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save him, your son. And I'm sorry I couldn't save all of them."
The Spartan held out her hand as she stood up. Her face was cold. A lifetime of war written across its features, as her inhuman eyes watched him, and her sculpted face, pale and soft where it wasn't scarred, upturned her lips in what could barely even be called a smile.
"But I'm the machine, right?"
Douglas reached up, grasping the Spartan's hand as he was pulled back up to his feet. As he stood, he watched in silence. Everything in him escaped like a balloon that had been popped. The woman took one last look at him, as she turned around and picked up her helmet. She held it under her arm as she walked off.
"Get some rest soldier."
Douglas stuttered something out, as he tried to make sense of it all, remembering her name. He spoke it, and it felt foreign to him. Alien even. She had a name.
"Danielle! I'm sorry!"
The woman kept walking, leaving Douglas alone in the gym as she exited. Spoiler The next day greeted Douglas in a new light. As he woke up, like usual, he found he wasn't sure what to do. Something in him, was broken. And he needed to fix it. Upon eating a meal at the cafeteria, he made his way down to the hangar bay, where the Spartan always seemed to be. And he was right. There she was, as always. Sitting on a particular crate that she seemed to call home. Inspecting her weapon, or tinkering with her armour.
Today however, she was doing none of that. In fact, she was facing the same way the various Longswords and Shortswords were, looking off into space. Douglas approached, stopping next to her. Suddenly, he found that any words he had to say were largely lost. He could only muster up,
"Hi."
The Spartan did not flinch, or even look in his direction. But she spoke.
"Your boy. How old was he?"
Douglas continued to stand, looking off into space.
"Four. He was four."
The Spartan nodded.
"I'm sorry."
Douglas found no rage. No anger. Only something like a deep sadness, as he looked at the soldier on the crate next to him.
"I'm sorry too. On the record, I'm sorry for everything I said to you. There's a human being, in that suit of yours. A lot more than the one inside of me over the years."
The Spartan, Danielle, sat in silence. But he caught the movement of her helmet, as it turned, ever so slightly. Douglas sighed.
"And I'm sorry, for punching you. My father would have beat the shit out of me for punching a lady. Even if they were bigger than me."
"I let you."
"I know. I watched the recording of yours. Had to slow it down because of how fast you move. But why? You could have probably single handedly put me into a coma if you wanted. Why didn't you hit me back?"
"My bones don't break."
"What do you mean?"
"My bones. The drugs they gave me and the grafted bone implants make my skeleton unbreakable. No matter how hard you could punch me, you wouldn't hurt me. And that's what you needed to do."
"But you're a woman."
"I'm a soldier."
"So am I. What's the difference between me and you?"
"Your son."
Douglas stayed silent.
"I was 19 when I found you. I stared at your son, and I pulled you away from him. My job, my life, is to protect Humanity. Yours wasn't."
"What, you're saying you were born like, like what you are now?"
"No. But close enough. All I remember is the training."
"Hell, I don't remember much after training. I don't think many do."
"I was six."
Again, Douglas had nothing.
"That's what I am. A soldier. The best they could make me. They told me I could make things fair."
"Did you? Make things fair?"
"The best I could."
"What about you?"
"I don't understand what you mean."
"Your life. What do you do, when you're not in the suit? When you're not fighting?"
Douglas realized it was a stupid question, as Danielle turned her head towards him.
"You've gotta have something."
Danielle suddenly stood up, standing tall above Douglas. She removed her helmet, the seals clicking as they unlatched. She stared down at Douglas, watching him with her steel blue eyes.
"I'm just a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less. I was called on to serve. And that's what I do. If you'll excuse me sir, I need to recalibrate my suit before another mission."
Douglas stood aside as she strode past him.
"Can I come with? I've never seen much about how your suit works."
"It's nothing as special as you believe sir."
Douglas had the feeling that she was trying to brush him off. But he was legitimately curious now. Suddenly, the giant woman in the machine had let her walls down. Last night, she was a different person. And for a brief moment today, she was as well. He never was one for the rules. He'd push them as far as he could. So far in his career, that's what truly marked him as a Helljumper. Technically, she never said no. Douglas walked along after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides. Naked Woman appears here. Spoiler As Douglas followed in the wake of the Spartan, to the medical section of the ship, past doctors and nurses, Douglas found everyone staring knives at him, or perhaps, the Helljumper tattoo on his shoulder. Or maybe it wasn't custom for a Spartan to have anybody follow them. Regardless, Douglas pressed on, until eventually, he was led to a med bay, full of expensive equipment. It was vacant, and as Danielle stepped up onto a plate on the deck floor that clamped around her boots, Douglas knew all this equipment was for her. Danielle faced him as clamps descended from the ceiling, latching on to her arms and torso, clamping in place. Douglas smiled.
"So, I take it they don't sell your suit in just any old store."
Danielle nodded.
"Specialized military personnel only."
"Oh, so what am I?"
"Specialized personnel."
"So that's why kids can dress up like Helljumpers on Halloween? The military won't come knocking on their door?"
Douglas watched as once more, he got the slightest of smiles. Barely even there. But an upturned pair of lips was an upturned pair of lips. The clamps on Danielle's suit activated, unscrewing locked sections of her armour, and, piece by piece, it began to tumble off, leaving only the black under suit behind. As the clamps disengaged, another set of equipment rotated into place, as Danielle stayed in position. It locked into place around her, completely, covering her up save for her head. Douglas watched with interest.
"So what's all that?"
"Deactivation of the gel layer. Pulling out plugs and equipment."
"Plugs and equipment?"
"You ever see a Spartan use the bathroom, sir?"
"Well, actually, no. I've never seen you guys eat either. Or even sleep for that matter. I assume that suit does most of that?"
"Mostly."
Douglas heard locks turn and click, and the equipment around Danielle split apart. Douglas was about to say something when he opened his mouth and quickly turned around, rolling his eyes the other way.
"Sorry ma'am."
Danielle walked past him, uncaring of the fact that she wore nothing at all. Douglas was inclined to turn around once more, but as his eyes traveled over Danielle's form, he couldn't help but look. He wasn't sure what kept him frozen in place. The scars. Almost no visible fat whatsoever, just toned muscle. The augments. Or the pale skin. The Spartan stepped over to a tray, bearing a uniform. As she reached out for the uniform, she turned on Douglas. Douglas averted his eyes and turned around.
"Sorry ma'am."
"For what?"
"If somebody walked in on me right now, I'd probably be dumped out the airlock with a sexual harassment charge. I signed up to kill aliens. Not stare at naked women ma'am."
Danielle slipped into her uniform, simple and clean, bearing the Spartan insignia along with rows upon rows of medals.
"I told you sir. I'm just a soldier."
"That's not what my eyes see, ma'am."
Danielle walked around to Douglas, now fully clothed. Douglas closed his eyes. His mouth was faster than his head some days. The Spartan looked down at him, her steel blue eyes staring directly into his.
"So what do you see?"
Douglas stared into the woman's gaze, watching her altered eyes.
"I see, somebody different. Somebody almost not Human. But I still see a person. Somebody who's on my side. As long as you're shooting the aliens, you're a friend of mine."
"A friend."
Danielle hadn't heard that word in a long time. Friend, was a foreign word to her. The closest she ever had to a friend was Officer Mendez, one of the trainers for the Spartans. But he was like a father in a way. And her brothers and sisters in arms were something else. More than friends. It hurt, to see them die, one by one over the years. It hurt more than seeing servicemen and servicewomen die. Dare she think it, even the child, covered in dust, cold and dead. Her eyes focused on Douglas's.
"It's a small world, isn't it?"
Douglas's eyebrows shot up.
"Excuse me?"
"I met you in 2530. I was 19. And after all this time, I see you again."
"You're a bit older now. Should be 34, right?"
"Yes."
"You don't look it. Must be the suit, right?"
Before she could say anything, Douglas focused on her eyes, as he leaned in close, bringing his lips up to hers. There was no resistance. Nothing at all from her. Be wanted to punch himself in the gut right now. His mouth really was faster than his head. He stepped back.
"I'm sorry. That was stupid. Misconduct on duty. You can file it if you want. I should go."
Douglas turned and left, making a beeline for the door as fast as he could, leaving Danielle standing there in silence. Her steel blue eyes tracked him, as she analyzed what happened. Spoiler Douglas spent the rest of the day being restless. Shooting at the gun range, his aim was off. He went to the gym, and resigned himself to jogging. He didn't know what had come over him. Today he felt like a train wreck. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about it. This woman, no, no, this Spartan, was there for his child's death. It felt like a betrayal to him. But something drew him to do it.
He only began jogging harder, as he tried to snap himself out of it. Last night he had hated her guts. He'd hated her since he dropped with her, since the minute she showed up. How could he possibly turn around so fast? Was he just stupid? No, it wasn't that. She wasn't a machine now. A faceless robot for all his blame to slide onto.
She had a life. One of clear hardship. Even more than that. She was an experiment, judging by what he'd heard from her. And she was cold. But was she really? He remembered her lips, upturned in the smallest of smiles. Her apology to him. Her time in the ring with him. The moment she handed him the recording from her helmet. Even the moment she extended her hand out to him, after every last grunt had been killed. His thoughts wound back even farther.
She forced him into the warthog. Strapped him down while she held him tight against the seat, and told the driver to leave her behind. And suddenly, it clicked. She was his hero. She had saved his life, twice. She had emotions, but she was pure of mind. She showed her emotions through actions, not words. And her only goal, was to help. He remembered her words now. "They told me I could make things fair." She was a soldier. The best of the best. She was beautiful.
Douglas came to a slow stop from his workout. He replayed the word in his mind. Beautiful. It had been so long, since anything even remotely resembling that word had entered his mind, or even made him feel like it. She was beautiful. And he wanted to see more. Other troopers, men and women, passed him by in their lanes. He wanted to punch himself in the gut again for being so stupid. Why didn't he seen it before? Actions louder than words.
She had exposed herself completely to him. Stepped out of the shell of her armour, the shell of her barrier to the world. There was a person under everything. Just like, after all these years, there was a person inside of him too. It wasn't rage, or sadness. The need to kill every inhuman alien that fell into his sights. Last night, she was his hero. She had set him free. Saved him. Douglas left the track, making way for the bridge. He needed to see her.
9942
« on: October 31, 2014, 12:49:10 AM »
 And so, Flood, I post a story of mine. I figure, let's start us off on some familiar territory. Something we all once held common ground amongst. I present to you, Halo: Lost and Found. Spoiler Douglas walked along the titanium deck plating of the armoury, checking his gear along the way. As another trooper walked past, a fellow man that served in the same elite division he did, Douglas gave him a nudge with his elbow.
"Hey. You see the robot in the hangar bay?"
The man shook his head.
"What robot?"
"You know. Tall. Green armour. Doesn't say anything."
"What, you mean the Spartan?"
"Yeah. The Spartan. Why'd command send one?"
"I dunno. Maybe they thought for once the Helljumpers couldn't get the job done."
"I'm being serious here. They don't send one of those things out on normal missions. Something's up."
"Well, we're hitting a Covie outpost, right? On one of the moons in the system. Nothing's happened yet. No invasion, no ships, nothing. Command is spooked. They're sending us in to clear the place out before the covies realize we've got a world here."
"And you think they'd send a Spartan along for this?"
The trooper shrugged.
"All I know is, we're goin' down hard, fast, and we're clearing the base out before the covies know what hit them. I don't know about you, but I've heard the stories. Spartan's don't fool around. With one of them on our side, we're gonna huff and puff and blow some houses down."
Douglas checked the magazine on his assault rifle.
"Whatever you say. I know I wouldn't put any bets down on the Spartan, whatever it is."
The trooper rapped on Douglas's shoulder pad.
"Hey, lighten up. They're on our side too."
Douglas loaded the clip back into his AR.
"Whatever you say boss." Spoiler Orbital insertion was standard business for Douglas by now. Rough, but he'd been on all the drops. Seen and lived through the worst. As their HEV pods descended through the atmosphere, revealing the gassy, thickly jungle populated moon below, and the shallow lake they were headed for, Douglas caught a glimpse of the telltale signs of a purple structure, hints of blue light emanating from it. Covenant all right.
Like standard business, Douglas popped the hatch on his pod, stepping out into a truly shallow lake, the water barely coming up to his knees as he exited the pod, assault rifle bared. The rest of the team was mobilizing, and the Spartan stood among them, towering over them in ghostly green armour that almost could have vanished in the thick fog. Without saying any words at all the Spartan took up a position as the troopers moved out.
There was no time for talk. They knew the drill. Close the 10 clicks like the Helljumpers they were. Motion trackers were almost useless in the heat and ever moving environment of the jungle. Move fast, move quiet, eyes sharp. Find outpost, ascertain threat level, blow up outpost. Just an average day. Spoiler Douglas and the team moved through the thick jungle canopy, stepping through mud and alien vegetation as rain pattered down slightly on the lower level of the jungle. They were only a kilometer away from the outpost now. Stepping through yet another slog of mud, Douglas peered through his helmet, out amongst all the vegetation. Something wasn't right.
Something in general was off about this mission. He didn't know what it was. But everything about this op was wrong. A Spartan. The response time about the outpost. Even the UNSC not taking evacuation action for the colony, despite its relatively small size. What was the brass planning here?
Douglas never got a chance to finish his thoughts as gunfire suddenly erupted from multiple positions. Douglas turned to see the distinct shape of grunts emerging from the bushes and ferns, pointed backpacks and plasma pistols bared as they charged forwards. Douglas brought his rifle to bear on the nearest target when he was suddenly knocked over by something heavy.
Fighting to roll over as a grunt began ripping at his backside with its hardened, claw like stubs for fingers as it screamed at him in a voice laced in higher tones from methane. In his vision he saw the giant ghostly figure of the Spartan step over to him, and with the strength and speed of something inhuman, it pulled the creature off Douglas before snapping its neck. Turning to the next target, the Spartan let loose a volley from their AR as Douglas rolled over onto his back to see an oncoming tide of grunts. Poorly armoured and armed with nothing but plasma pistols and their bare hands, they kept coming out of the jungle like a tide or rabid dogs.
Plasma streamed past as Douglas opened up on the closest target, watching as the ugly creature was mowed down, blue blood spattering the jungle floor as it dropped, before another one of the thickly skinned aliens clambered over its corpse. Douglas mowed that one down too, and kept firing until nothing was left to move and his magazine was empty.
Silence filled the jungle, as the high pitched screams stopped and the gunfire came to an abrupt end. A shadow formed over Douglas as the Spartan stood tall over him, extending a hand. Douglas looked up to the armoured soldier above him. Green painted titanium armour, fitting over every possible weak spot, etched in scars and showing a lifetime's worth of service. He couldn't even make out the faded identification tag across the chest plate. Douglas pushed the armoured gauntlet aside.
"Get off me. I'm fine!"
The Spartan said nothing, letting him rise to his feet. As Douglas turned to face the scene, what greeted him was, shocking. Mounds of corpses, grunts, hundreds of them, clad in orange and red breathers and backpacks, lay scattered across the jungle. And among them were ODSTs. Torn apart, or in their dying throes. Not all of them. But the fact that some of these men, veterans of over a 20 year long war at this point, lay dying in the jungle from the lowest of the low the Covenant had to offer, sickened Douglas. Anger held itself at bay as he looked over to the Spartan, who had reloaded their weapon and now stood over the dead or the dying, in silence. Spoiler Douglas slammed his fist on the table, still smeared in blue blood, as the crewman on the bridge turned heads to watch him.
"Grunts, sir. You sent us, down there, to kill grunts. A methane refinery. That's all it was!"
The captain, a stern man, stood across from Douglas over a map table.
"We needed to verify before we took orbital action. Covenant build their bases deep underground. An orbital shot might not have even made a dent, or worse, bounced off the shields of the outpost if it had them."
"With some GOD DAMN RESPECT SIR, we lost a lot of men. Too many for a god damn methane plant full of gas suckers!"
"The threat was neutralized, no communications to any foreign location were picked up. You, and your men, did good work today. I'm sorry you had to lose so many. But you know what you all signed up for."
Douglas looked back, at the other troopers who were standing tall and quiet, among them, the Spartan. He was the only one stepping out of line. The captain knew it. But he never put his boot down. Because he knew Douglas was right.
Douglas pointed a finger at the captain.
"No. You don't get to say that to me, or these men. You sent, A SPARTAN."
The captain crossed his arms behind his back.
"And clearly, I was right to authorize deployment. Had you not had 028 here on your side, casualties might have been much higher. She did her best, like all Spartans do."
Douglas clenched his teeth and fists, biting back his anger. He couldn't hold it.
"You son of a-"
Douglas was interrupted by the Spartan, as she stepped forward, speaking for the first time since Douglas had seen her.
"Captain."
The man looked across the table to Douglas, ice in his veins and a hard face. He looked over to the Spartan, who stood out among all aboard the bridge, tall and imposing. He looked into the orange visor of the soldier, and then to all the other ODSTs standing at attention.
"Dismissed. Get some rest, all of you. We're going to stay on alert for the next few days. You all might need the sleep soon."
Douglas said no more, but kept his white knuckled grip as he and all the other soldiers left the bridge. As he and the others stepped out, the Spartan strode by, silent as ever. Douglas reached out, rapping against the back armour plating of the Spartan as she strode by.
"You. Turn around god dammit. I want a word with you."
The Spartan stopped, turning to face him. Douglas didn't really believe there was a woman under the suit. She was almost twice his size in height and her shoulders alone looked practically wide enough to be the same width as he was tall. She spoke, from under her orange visored helmet, cold, monotone.
"Sir."
Douglas shook his head.
"Don't you sir me. Don't you goddamn sir me! I have a name. I'm a person. I am not an objective, or a goddamn target!"
The Spartan stood, silent, arms at her sides, looking down at Douglas. Douglas held back every insult he wanted to shout right now, pointing at the Spartan.
"The UNSC makes you out to be some kind of hero. Some kind of, unstoppable weapon. They give you all this fancy gear, and this treatment, while us, the god damn grunts slog through the mud and take all the hits. If I had that suit of yours right now, jesus fucking christ I would've torn those rabid fucking dogs down on that moon apart! Why didn't you save them!?"
The Spartan stood, silent. Douglas pushed against the green chest plate of the Spartan, attempting to shove her.
"ANSWER ME GOD DAMMIT!!!!"
The Spartan stood, like a wall, looking down at him. Douglass shook his head, turning around to leave.
"You know you, and every last one of whatever you are, are a god damn disgrace!"
Douglas took one step on the metal decking, as a green gauntleted hand gripped his shoulder from underneath the black under suit that fit all over the Spartan's body. The hand that gripped his shoulder pad was powerful, enormous in strength as Douglas was halted on the spot. He turned on the spot in anger, coming around with the strongest uppercut he could muster, into the helmet that he could barely reach.
The punch impacted off the Spartan's helmet as she didn't even so much as flinch. Douglas's hand rebounded off the helmet, as the Spartan continued to stare down at him. Another gauntleted hand came up, so fast that Douglas barely even had time to see it. But instead of a punch, it stopped short. In the armoured fingers of the Spartan sat a small data chip.
"Take it. My HUD cam."
Douglas reached out, swiping the chip away with his now injured hand. The Spartan nodded.
"You should have that looked at, sir."
Douglas gritted his teeth, but turned around and began to walk away. The Spartan let him go. Spoiler In the twilight hours of the ship, as Douglas sat in his bunk, he held his helmet in his hands. The blue stains of blood didn't come out easy, and still persisted even now. He held the data chip in his hands, turning it over and over, watching as he did. He should have thrown it away. Crushed it on the spot. But he didn't. He sighed. May as well get it over with.
Sliding his helmet on, listening and watching as it connected to his neural lace, he slid the chip into the back of his helmet, laying down on his bunk in the process. He scrolled through the options his HUD brought up with his eyes, selecting the play option on the chip which made itself known on his helmet's network. His visor tinted to black, and the recording started to play.
He skipped through the early parts of the recording, past the drop, the shallow lake, and the trek through the jungle, until he saw the familiar clearing they had been ambushed in. Playing the recording normally, he watched the scene play out. The Spartan scanned the area as she walked, looking and watching. Douglas saw himself, only briefly as he raised his weapon. It was funny, watching himself through another's view. And then, like lightening, it happened. The camera shifted so fast that the next images were a blur across his eyes, a flash of gunfire, green, blue, black. He couldn't make anything out. And as the fight went on, and slowed, and things became more visible, enough that the camera could properly record, he saw himself.
A green gauntleted hand extended out to him, as he lay on his back in the mud. A mound of Grunt corpses lay at his feet and all around him. He watched as he pushed the extended hand away, and then the camera turned, surveying the aftermath of the battle. Douglas paused the recording. This didn't show him anything at all. He was about to pull his helmet off when he had an idea.
Douglas rewound the recording, to just before the fight started. Selecting through the options, he decided to slow the recorded frames. 5%. The fight started, still a blur. 15%. Rewind. Blurs. 25%. Something more noticeable. Rewind. 50%. Almost recognizable. Rewind. 75%. Douglas watched, as each frame played. Upping the resolution, he watched, as things suddenly became clear. And then he understood.
The Spartan's eyes were faster than the camera itself. He watched the beginning moments of the fight, frame by frame. The Spartan had her rifle raised, and was already firing, just as the tip of the first of the grunt's backpack broke through the fern like plants. As the frames rolled by, for an agonizingly long time, every ODST in sight had not acted yet.
He watched, as a body fell through the bushes, and the Spartan was already firing on another target. Another body falling, as her rifle shifted aim, passing by a trooper without so much as a single round fired, and then in the next frame, more fire on another target.
By now, all the ODSTs in the frames had their rifles raised, and were beginning to fight. Douglas watched as they fired on the oncoming tides of grunts, frame by frame. And then the camera shifted once more, showing how fast the Spartan's eyes and reflexes were. As the camera turned, the Spartan had already begun moving towards a trooper who had been overwhelmed by a wall of aliens scrambling overtop one another. Their chitenous, stubby claw like fingers reached out for the trooper, trying to rip him apart.
In what seemed like only two short steps, the Spartan was at the trooper's side. A burst of fire into the closest grunt, and then another, while one arm lashed out, punching the nearest grunt on top of the ODST, shattering the alien's breathing mask and skull like it was paper. As they fell, Douglass watched as the Spartan reloaded her AR, and then reached out, passing her weapon to the fallen ODST, who had his own rifle knocked away from him.
She was already turning before the man had barely even started reaching out for her weapon, and he watched as she let the weapon slide free of her fingers with such grace that it would fall right into the trooper's hands. She surged forward once more, to another trooper that was still standing, bleeding from his side as plasma singed and burned him.
He watched as she stepped in front of the trooper, surging forward towards the oncoming grunts, with a knife drawn. One was stabbed in the head, another, punched in the chest as its armour buckled and bent inward, breaking ribs and shattering everything. One, two, three, four. Douglas watched the timer. Three seconds had passed since she had engaged the four oncoming grunts. And four were dead.
Douglass watched, entranced by the frames as they rolled by. Speed, and power, and strength. And then he came to himself. A grunt lay over top of him, threatening to rip into his backside with its powerful arms that were inhumanly stronger than even some of the top trained, physically strongest humans alive. As the Spartan moved, her knife was thrown, landing square in the head of a grunt as it bore down on one of the fallen ODSTs, beating on the practical corpse of the man.
And she reached out, grabbing the alien by the head, crushing it's skull with her grip itself, but she twisted, snapping its neck as with one arm extended she pulled the alien off Douglas, and spun around, once more, her eyes faster than the camera, and threw the alien into another tide of oncoming grunts. He watched the frames, as he had barely even rolled himself over at this point, as the Spartan continued, reaching out for an assault rifle at her feet. He stopped the recording.
Sliding his helmet off, Douglas set it down on the material of his bunk beside him. He looked at the back of his helmet, where the chip was inserted. He sighed, almost painfully. He needed to rest. Laying down on his bunk, he closed his eyes, and let sleep claim him.
Spoiler 15 Years Earlier Bodies littered the streets, as all around him, gunfire, and the sounds of alien weaponry could be heard. In the skies alien aircraft sped past, bombing buildings with green blasts of destructive energy, as Human fighters scrambled after them in tow. In the sky, an immense ship hung, as if from invisible wires, as thousands of dots streamed and poured from its hangar bays. Douglas walked the streets in a daze, covered in dust. People were running in all directions, vehicles struggled to pass each other on the road, only adding to the chaos as they crashed into each other or drove forwards into people regardless of whether or not they were in the way. Douglas walked out on the streets, screaming his lungs out, struggling to be heard. "SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!!!!" Above his screams a sound could be heard, louder than even the commotion on the street. It was as if the air was crackling and burning, screaming even. And then Douglas watched as a ball of light, as bright as the sun, landed in the middle of the road. He was sent flying off his feet from an explosion, as heat waves blew over him, singeing his skin. Cars, people, the road itself, vanished and turned into a crater where the ball had fallen. Vaporized instantly. Anything outside of the crater was blackened and burned, on fire. People, cars, anything. Douglas lay down in the street, crying and screaming, as something alien, huge and purple, hovered down the street. It pushed through the remains of cars and trucks like they were toys. He could only watch as the alien craft turned on him, baring a massive cannon on top of it, humming with energy. He held his hands over his head, preparing for the worst, when another shockwave rippled through the streets. Douglas's ears were left ringing, as he looked up. The purple craft turned, back down the street it had come from, as another shell impacted against the craft, tearing through the alien armour plating. The purple craft moved backwards, past him and down the street, as it discharged another ball of energy. Another shell slammed into it, ripping through its damaged armour plating and exploding violently. The craft sputtered and died, and fell to the ground, lifeless. As fire rained down from the sky, and aircraft screamed overhead, a tank, something Douglas only knew as a Scorpion, thundered down the road, rolling over cars and trucks as it sped down the street. Behind it, a large number of troopers, army, marines, and even police officers ran. Douglass got up, despite his ringing ears and the shock in his body as the ground shook from impacts every several seconds. He ran towards the troopers, screaming at the top of his lungs. "PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME!" The troopers responded, rushing over to him, struggling to yell over the noise. "Sir! We're clearing a landing zone! A pelican will be here in three!" Douglas clutched at the troopers desperately. "NO NO NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! IT'S MY SON!!! I NEED HELP!!" His cries were cut off as the marines shouted over him. "Banshees incoming!!" Douglas was thrown to the ground by one of the troopers as two alien craft screamed through the air above. They targeted the Scorpion as it thundered down the streets, unleashing torrents of plasma on it as they passed. The vehicle stopped dead in its tracks as the troopers charged forward. "Get that damn tank back up now!" Douglas was helpless in all the chaos, and left to his own devices, as he stood in the streets. As he looked down the street, on the path of destruction that the alien tank had made, he saw a warthog, speeding down the road. He ran out in front of it, waving his arms frantically. The jeep stopped, skidding to a halt on the ruined roads. He ran against the hood, screaming at the top of his lungs and pounding on the hood to the occupants for help. And then he watched, as someone stepped out. Not like the other soldiers. They towered over everything, clad in green armour, fully encased. Douglas was already too afraid and shocked for pausing. He ran towards the immense soldier. "PLEASE!!!! I NEED HELP!!! MY SON IS TRAPPED!!! PLEASE..... PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!!" The armoured titan before him nodded. The armoured soldier looked back to the troopers in the jeep. They nodded. Douglas scrambled around the armoured soldier, thanking them as he turned back and broke off in a run as fast as he could manage back to his apartment. The green armoured giant kept in stride with him the whole time. Douglas closed the gap into the lobby, running through its shattered glass doors, and up the stairs with the soldier in tow. He scrambled past rooms and hallways, as the building shook and crumbled. Light streamed through the ceiling as he entered the part of the building that had collapsed, finding his home and running through the doorway. He ran to the pile of rubble, concrete and rebar as it filled almost the entirety of his home. In a frantic madness, he gripped one of the concrete pillars, trying to pull it aside. The soldier placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him aside gently, but firmly. Douglass watched, as the giant stepped forward, and gripped the slab of concrete with both hands. Pulling it aside as if it were cardboard, revealing more rubble underneath it. "NO NO NO PLEASE HE'S IN THERE SOMEWHERE! YOU HAVE TO FIND HIM!!!" The soldier began ripping through concrete slabs and rubble, pulling them out piece by piece, until at last, a young boy was revealed. Douglas surged forward, pushing past the giant soldier. His hands shook, as he looked, and he knew. There, in the rubble, was his son. Covered in dust. Unmoving. Dried blood from his eyes and nose. Douglas collapsed onto the rubble, reaching forward, a cry escaping him as he broke. The soldier stood beside him, speaking. "Sir, we have to move now. There's an evac poin-" Douglas screamed out. "I'M NOT LEAVING MY SON!!! DON'T YOU TAKE ME AWAY FROM HIM!!! HE'S COMING WITH ME!!!" The building shook on its foundations as an explosion rocked the apartment nearby. The soldier spoke once more, before acting. "Sir, we need to go now. It's not safe here." Douglas felt an armoured hand on his shoulder, as he was pulled back forcefully against his will. He screamed and fought with all of his strength, but was picked up by the giant and hefted over their shoulder. With even more speed than before, the soldier broke away from Douglas's home. Douglas reached out, trying desperately to pull himself away from the soldier's grip, calling out to his son. He screamed and fought up until the last, as the soldier stepped up to the warthog, and sat him down into the passenger seat, strapping him in with a seatbelt as Douglas struggled, but was held against the seat. The soldier held him down and spoke to the driver, who looked on with worried eyes. "Get him out of here to the closest evac point. I'll stay here on the ground." The driver nodded. "Yes ma'am." As the warthog's engine revved, Douglas tried up until the very last to break free, before the jeep backed up and rolled forwards, gaining speed quickly. He yelled, cried, and beat his fists on whatever was in reach, trying to go back. But it was no use. The last he saw of the armoured soldier was the bright white numbers on their chest plate. 028.
9943
« on: October 30, 2014, 11:14:56 PM »
Remember that month back, when I said I was going to post some writing of mine? Na, of course you folks didn't. But I did. Guess it's time to live up to my end of the deal correct?
It's funny that you think I forgot.
Well, PP doesn't seem to be a fully operational battle station yet. So, before I commit sudoku upon myself and commit account suicide, I'm going for a walk. And making something to eat. Ya'll ready for a party?
9944
« on: October 30, 2014, 11:09:33 PM »
Remember that month back, when I said I was going to post some writing of mine? Na, of course you folks didn't. But I did. Guess it's time to live up to my end of the deal correct?
9945
« on: October 30, 2014, 10:34:47 PM »
Who can say? I don't know him in any particular regard. Could be temporary. Might not. We'll just have to wait and see.
9946
« on: October 30, 2014, 04:02:53 PM »
As long as you give me a chance to be the designated driver of the lobby, I'll be happy.
youre not allowed to drive banshees anymore
Give me five minutes to re-learn how to wraith and you'll change your mind. You know that nice hill on Valhalla? I turned artillery fire over the hill into an art form.
9947
« on: October 30, 2014, 03:45:58 PM »
I don't think it's right that everything you do is for your family. Your family is supposed to help you along your way, not be an anchor that holds you down in the same place until they die.
Family's important, but you shouldn't have to pay for their mistakes, or live your life for them.
Oh believe me, they aren't an anchor. They've even made their concerns apparent. And the door is always open should I seek something more. They won't hold me down. But, to me, what I see with my eyes, isn't fair.
I see young kids these days, people not much older than me. They leave. Live their lives. But they cut their families out. They don't even look back.
And that's not what family should be.
These people, my family, have all paid their dues. And life still doesn't care. Other people, wouldn't care. They wouldn't help. And as people, they deserve something better. Every last one of them. So, this is my job. This is my task. I wouldn't fit well anywhere else anyway. I'm too simple, for such things. But, what I can do here, is make things fair.
There will be more adventures for me along the way, I'm sure. But I will never abandon them to unfairness.
Just don't live the rest of your life with regret.
I'm one step ahead of you. Self examination right? The hospital down time did me immense good. I realize, that despite everything, I should try.
Because if I don't try, then it never will happen. Most of all, I have to accept the responsiblity of failure. I might not succeed. But the point is, I tried. And if I tried, then I really know that I can move on with no troubles on my shoulders.
A lot like the deer, a few nights ago. I tried to make things quick. But I didn't accept the possibility of failure. And that's why it hit me so hard. But now, now I see, wide and clear.
It's not about failure or success, it's about devoting your life entirely to your family, as if they're the only reason to live. You live in a place you hate and you're not happy.
You can move and get a better job and send money home. Or move and do something to set up a foundation in your life. These are critical years, and it seems to me that you're wasting them. Almost as if you're going to wait until your family dies, and then after all that depression start a new life.
Think about that.
There's no place I'd rather be. Cities don't click with me. Large towns don't click with me. Most of all, I don't care about money. I understand the neccessity of it for survival, but a life spent solely in it's pursuit is worthless. I stay here because I believe I can help more than by going to a city and being caught in a trap. In person, in physical true person I can help all of them, and most of all, give them something. If I rolled off to the city, and devoted my life to making money, to them, I'd just be an invisible person, sending numbers to them. I wouldn't be there when they needed help. Wouldn't be there to give them a smile on bad days. Wouldn't be there to listen to them. The very same applies in vice versa. My minimalist views don't quite click with you, I think. I don't want to be stuck in a trap of a job. Not a puppet for money. Give me, one single piece of land up here, and my world is complete. I can shape it, do anything I want on it, because it's mine. My own security, and sanctum from the world at large. And in that quiet, I could do anything. And I could do 90% of it all without money. Make just enough to pay for taxes, internet, gas, and so on. Small jobs like I have now cover it. The key step, is getting there. And it is, piece by piece. I already have an inkling of what I enjoy doing with my life. And, I push it every day. One day, I may be able to make money off of it even. But, it's not a concern for me. And with my own space, I could do anything I choose. Devote time to learn, whatever I feel like. In peace and quiet. Give me a house, some land, an axe, a saw, and a shovel, and I'll make my own happiness.
9948
« on: October 30, 2014, 02:18:32 PM »
Thought you were older Sand...also 22. Still living with parents. All of my other friends have found jobs, have girlfriends, etc... My obsession with video games only led to this. I didn't get an internship during college and didn't make connections and establish my network. Now I'm paying for it and I'm nearly going insane because I have such a sedentary life style right now. I want human interaction and to do things but there just isn't anything to do. So I browse job boards all day. Yeah, not too happy about my life right now. PS kids don't choose a worthless degree. I can't even enjoy the MCC when it comes out because I have nothing else going on in my life besides video games. It's not much of an existence.
I can't blame you. And I won't. The internet, and video games, in some degrees fill a void. And it's easy to get stuck in them. A few years ago, I was the same thing. And it turned inward on me because even then, despite how lazy I was, I cared about other people around me. And that killed me. It was a realization of the reality around me. A reality that only I made. I was the product of those who raised me. But, they did the best they could with what they had. But those years, were all me. So, I sunk. But, some little bit of luck, some little piece of reason knocked some sense into me. And, believe me, it's hard. It looks, and feels like a wall. A mountain. But it all comes down to you. It always does. If you want change, then you have to do it. Most of all, you'd be surprised, at how things change. Once you put one foot forward, you've got to take another. 6 months ago, I was a very, very different person. And, it's amazing really. You never expect things to change. But you look back, and suddenly, they have. Most of all, it's amazing how small some things are. These little things, start the gears turning, and push you forwards. So despite how small they seem to you at the time, how pointless they look, how trivial and useless, in the end, they make the biggest difference. Remember. It's a choice. You always have a choice. And there's always another way, always another option. All you have to do is realize that you want things to change. And then, get up, and take a step. And, in a few months, a couple of years, you'll look back, and realize how far you've come. But, it all starts with you. You just have to use your noggin, and think about things. Look carefully, and you'll find the way.
9949
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:17:41 PM »
I don't think it's right that everything you do is for your family. Your family is supposed to help you along your way, not be an anchor that holds you down in the same place until they die.
Family's important, but you shouldn't have to pay for their mistakes, or live your life for them.
Oh believe me, they aren't an anchor. They've even made their concerns apparent. And the door is always open should I seek something more. They won't hold me down. But, to me, what I see with my eyes, isn't fair.
I see young kids these days, people not much older than me. They leave. Live their lives. But they cut their families out. They don't even look back.
And that's not what family should be.
These people, my family, have all paid their dues. And life still doesn't care. Other people, wouldn't care. They wouldn't help. And as people, they deserve something better. Every last one of them. So, this is my job. This is my task. I wouldn't fit well anywhere else anyway. I'm too simple, for such things. But, what I can do here, is make things fair.
There will be more adventures for me along the way, I'm sure. But I will never abandon them to unfairness.
Just don't live the rest of your life with regret.
I'm one step ahead of you. Self examination right? The hospital down time did me immense good. I realize, that despite everything, I should try. Because if I don't try, then it never will happen. Most of all, I have to accept the responsiblity of failure. I might not succeed. But the point is, I tried. And if I tried, then I really know that I can move on with no troubles on my shoulders. A lot like the deer, a few nights ago. I tried to make things quick. But I didn't accept the possibility of failure. And that's why it hit me so hard. But now, now I see, wide and clear.
9950
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:13:33 PM »
ugh
Hey? Guess what? I'm a wizard. See those three letters there. With some magic, I turn them into hug. I shall give you a hug.
9951
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:12:30 PM »
I don't think it's right that everything you do is for your family. Your family is supposed to help you along your way, not be an anchor that holds you down in the same place until they die.
Family's important, but you shouldn't have to pay for their mistakes, or live your life for them.
Oh believe me, they aren't an anchor. They've even made their concerns apparent. And the door is always open should I seek something more. They won't hold me down. But, to me, what I see with my eyes, isn't fair. I see young kids these days, people not much older than me. They leave. Live their lives. But they cut their families out. They don't even look back. And that's not what family should be. These people, my family, have all paid their dues. And life still doesn't care. Other people, wouldn't care. They wouldn't help. And as people, they deserve something better. Every last one of them. So, this is my job. This is my task. I wouldn't fit well anywhere else anyway. I'm too simple, for such things. But, what I can do here, is make things fair. There will be more adventures for me along the way, I'm sure. But I will never abandon them to unfairness.
9952
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:07:33 PM »
You're only 22? Shit.
What? You thought I was ancient?
I don't know, man.
You just seem way to chilled and mature to be a 22-year-old.
I'll tell you the secret. All those grunt labor jobs give me time to think about things as I work. Time with oneself is always a good thing, because eventually, thoughts turn inward. Self examination and realization lead you in great strides.
9953
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:01:48 PM »
You're only 22? Shit.
What? You thought I was ancient?
9954
« on: October 30, 2014, 01:00:20 PM »
Birthdays are fun. Birthdays are like clocks really. An end to a period of time in your life, and a start to time that is yet to come. Birthdays are, or should be a reminder to you of things. A reminder of where you come from, an anchor of sorts.
I'm 22 now. And I can look back on the last year and say I'm satisfied with what was done. Physically, by all outward appearances, not much was accomplished. No home, no, real-world major alterations. But, internal. Self reflection, identification, and evolution as a person.
I can only hope that the up and coming year holds more strides, more progress. Because that's what it should be. You take one step, and then you take another. But, it's a reminder. Physically, today, I feel terrible. I pushed myself too hard yesterday, and I'm paying for that. But, overall, the day is happy.
But, what this day, over all the others is, is a reminder of why I'm here. Why I've chosen all of this. It's a reminder about time.
I'm 22 now. My mother, my sister, her husband, are all growing old. Some of them are breaking down in age. But, I choose to stay here and help them the best I can. I'm sure, if I put my head into the game, I could move off to some big city. Start something in higher education. Start a job, something, to earn real money.
But time is important to me. And what time means is, that no matter what I do, one day, these people, these people that I'm doing the best I can for, will die. I will have to bury them. Every last one of them. And then it'll be just me.
So, not only for me, do I hope that I can make the next upcoming year special. But I hope that in the coming years, in the time that's left, I can make something special for all of them too. Progress, for more than just me.
So, here's to a brand new year! Let's see what I can do, with not only this new year, but this second chance of mine as well. Let's see, just how fun I can make things.
To the other folks with birthdays today, or ones coming up in the near future, I wish the same to you all.
9955
« on: October 30, 2014, 11:59:00 AM »
Barely noticed their gone
I noticed something was wrong when there wasn't a jiggling ass at the top of the page or something related to electronics.
9956
« on: October 30, 2014, 11:56:47 AM »
Or did the ads disappear? Cheat's pushing buttons and playing with wrenches.
9957
« on: October 30, 2014, 11:26:19 AM »
Happy Birthday Sandtrap!
Cake please 
Here's some burger cake. 
9958
« on: October 30, 2014, 10:41:21 AM »
I prefer not to celebrate/ have a party on my birthday.
Aha! But, a birthday is something special. A reminder of your origins. And a reminder that you're still here. Most of all, it's a bit like a reset button. You look back on all that you've accomplished in the last year, and look ahead to see what you think you can do this year!
I was never one for parties either, but it is a day of celebration, because looking back on the year, I accomplished much. And now it's a new year ahead of me. New roads, new paths. Which road shall I take this year?
Eh. I don't like the attention. Means I have to be around family who see me twice a year for twenty minutes total and shit, I prefer to just have the money that would be spent on it to go and buy something cool instead.
Lucky me then. Most of my family are ded surprise big not. I've got my mother, her brother, my sister and her husband, and my little niece. They all know I'm a quiet person. They'll say howdy and give me something, but generally leave me to my peace.
These are folks worth paying attention to, and people that believe the same of me. Who am I to argue?
Huh. Mine just incessantly talk at me about shit I don't care about when I just want to go and play my new game or something.
Haha. I'm a real simple person to shop for. Which means I'm in no real hurry to leave when they show up to say howdy, since I can't exactly spend an entire day marvelling at socks or clothing. Funny enough, clothes have become valuable to me over the years as presents since I fucking hate clothes shopping. I must be the only person alive who genuinely smiles when they get socks for a present. And, plus, good for inside family jokes too.
9959
« on: October 30, 2014, 10:37:04 AM »
80F-100F is the best possible temperature range.
you've gone incoherent.
I wouldn't expect some honk to understand, go back to watching boku no pico or something.
LOL
9960
« on: October 30, 2014, 10:31:50 AM »
As long as you give me a chance to be the designated driver of the lobby, I'll be happy.
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