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      <title>Grunts R Us. New articles</title>
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      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 10</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=280</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=280</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 10-Floodtide

Krystal looked around the Heretic Leader’s quarters, trying to get a bearing on where the blood-chilling noise was coming from. It didn’t take her long to realize, the sound was coming from everywhere!
“Tell me someone tracked the Heretic Leader’s signal!” Red yelled. “We’re not leaving unless he’s dead!”
“Sir,” Krystal said. “With respect, what I’ve heard about the Flood suggests we’re not going to make it unless we leave now.”
“I’ll take note of that,” Red replied. “Now, that signal!”
“I started tracking him at the last second,” an Elite replied, using a wall-mounted holopanel to bring up a map of the facility, with two blinking red lights on it. “We are here, near the outer edge of the facility, about two-thirds of the way down. The Leader, on the other hand, is down here, at the very bottom of this place. There’s only one access point to it, and it’s sealed.”
“We’ll get through,” Red mutterred. “Alright, men! You know where we’re going, let’s move!”
The group of soldiers immediately gathered up their gear and ran, heading for a side exit to the Leader’s quarters. But the lone Grunt of their was a little slow, and as he went past the main doorway into the room, a hideous creature leapt through the doorway and crash-tackled the Grunt, who could do nothing but squeal in absolute terror as the Elite Flood-form clambered on top of the creature, before snapping its neck, killing it.
The rest of the group stopped when they realized what had happenned, but could do nothing to help the Grunt, as several more Elite forms charged in behind the first, attacking the group.
“Shit!” Red cursed as he fired his assault rifle at the Flood, bring a small group of them crashing to his feet, dead. “Tefum! Lead the way! We need to get to the traitor before these things block us!”
The Elite ran in front of the group, guiding them through the hallways, the SpecOps Elite's specialized HUD showing him the way to the Heretic Leader's hideout.
The group wound their way through the corridors of the Heretic facility, The Elite, Serra Tefum, leading them towards a lift that would take them to the Leader's hideout.
It took the team a few more minutes of running to reach the lift, only to find that the Flood had beaten them to it, and were charging towards them.
“Shit!”Red cursed, turning around. “Fall back, we'll find another way!”
The group turned around...to face another batallion of Flood coming at them from the other direction.
“Shit!”Krystal exclaimed, repeating Red's reaction. “Trapped!”
Red turned one way, then the other. Enemies on both sides...and us in the middle, damn it!
“Aw, fuck it!” he finally said &quot;Charge them! Get to the lift!&quot;
With a fierce collective war cry, the group charged the Flood guarding the lift. Krystal sending both a rocket and a grenade ahead of them, the twin blast leaving a sizable hole in the Flood's formation. The rest of the group fired their various weapons wildly, trying to put down as many Flood as possible before they reached them.
In response, the unarmed Flood sent in their Infection Forms, the little squid-like creatures avoiding the majority of the team's fire, before leaping in the air and latching themselves onto whatever they could.
A couple of front-line marines went down screaming, trying to get rid of the Infection forms as the critters buried their tentacles into the poor soldiers, tapping into their spinal cords and starting the transformation process. In a few hours, those marines would become Flood forms along with all the others.
But Red, Blue, Krystal, and the majority of the Elites all made it through to charge the Combat Forms waiting for them, Krystal send another rocket, making them scatter and giving them a clear path to the lift.
The group charged, diving into the lift, Tefum immediately getting to work on starting the lift up as the others held off the Flood as best they could.
But as Tefum got the lift working, the Flood pressed the attack, the sheer number of Combat Forms jamming the lift doors, not allowing the lift to leave.
&quot;Why can't these bastards just give us a break!&quot; Blue yelled in frustration as he cut down two more combat forms before reloading.
Red took in the situation at a glance, and saw the truth...they weren't getting out.
Then Red made a split-second decision.
Red grabbed his rifle, and with an inhumane roar, charged the Flood, crash-tackling the group that were holding the lift open.
&quot;Get out of here!&quot; Red yelled back as he struggled to force the Flood away from the door. &quot;Don't come back for me!&quot;
&quot;Red, no!&quot; Krystal yelled, seeing what Red's plan was a millisecond before it happened.
As Red fired his assault rifle at point blank range, clearing the last Flood holding the door open, he himself plunged through the door, stopping more Flood from holding it open. The lift sealed itself and began descending, Red left behind to accept the consequences of his actions.
Krystal couldn't believe it. He was gone. Red, the Spartan with no name who had led her through the re-taking of America, was gone, sacrificing himself to save their mission.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 20:21:25 -0800</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 9</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=279</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=279</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 9-Breaking &amp; Entering

“Michael?” Thomas called, getting to his feet and straining his ears, listing for any kind of response.
“Of course it’s me!” the ever-so-familiar voice replied from through the wall behind Thomas. “Who else could it be? Now, for God’s sake, take that gun away from your head!”
Thomas didn’t need telling twice, he’d already dropped his pistol, spinning to face the source of the sound. “Jesus, mate, I’m glad you’re alive!”
“Believe me,” Michael said dryly, “so am I.”
“What about Persecutor?” Thomas called, remembering the other two, worry engulfing him once more. “And Obliterator?”
“Don’t worry, friend,” Persecutor’s voice called. “We’re alright.”
Thomas breathed a huge sigh of relief. Thank God. “Are you all okay? Are any of you hurt?”
“Not really,” Michael replied. “Bumps and bruises. My shielding system’s shot, though, and I think Persecutor needs a complete replacement.” Thomas heard Michael chuckle softly. “I don’t think it’s any surprise that Obliterator’s armor’s barely scratched.”
Thomas couldn’t help but laugh, the reunion left him in high spirits. “Okay, so where are you?”
“In some hallway,” Michael replied. “Are you in the mess hall?”
“Yeah, and there’s at least another twenty survivors in here with me.”
“Okay, good,” Michael said. “Now, we’re stuck in this hallway, as there’s been collapsions in both directions, but…” whatever he was going to say next was cut short as a loud, muffled crack came through the wall. “Shit!”
“What is it?” Thomas called.
“We’ve got a big problem in here!” Michael replied. “It seems that the roof above our heads isn’t going to hold out for too much longer.”
“Damn it!” Thomas swore. Not now! Not after I’ve just got them back!
“Cursed Heretics will pay in blood for this savagery!” Persecutor vowed loudly.
“Okay, Thomas, if you can think of any way to get us out of here, now would be a very good time to do so,” Michael yelled.
Don’t I know it, Thomas thought dryly.
His mind immediately search for a way to get them out of that hallway. The only option was to make a hole in the wall through which they could come. But the wall was a least a foot of solid concrete, what would blow a big enough hole in that for a Hunter…
Thomas immediately felt for his grenades, and came across two. Not enough. He was going to need at least twenty for the amount of force he’d need.
Thomas, snagging on an idea, turned to face the people in the mess hall for the first time. “Do we have any explosives in here?” he asked.
Williams was the first to respond. “Good to see you’re back, Spartan,” he said. “Now what in the name of God would you need explosives for?”
“My friend and partner is trapped on the other side of this wall,” Thomas replied. “There’s no way out of where they’re trapped in, and the roof is going to come down soon. I need enough explosives to get through this wall!”
“There could be a problem with that, sir,” Williams replied instantly. “We’ve been spending all our time down here trying to figure out a way to use what C-5 we have to blow our way outta here. We do have some we can spare, but I doubt it’ll be enough.”
“I’ll improvise, just give me what you safely can,” Thomas barked, growing impatient. “Michael! You still there?”
“Would I be anywhere else?” Michael replied sarcastically.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, we may not have enough explosives to get through this wall, but I’m going to try anyway, as it’s all we’ve got.”
“I guess it’s better than no plan at all, us three will just go find a safe place, and you detonate it in thirty seconds.”
“Right!” Thomas said, just as Williams reappeared with a small C-5 explosive pack, nowhere near enough to blast through the concrete wall in front of him.
“Tell me again how you’re going to make this powerful enough through that?” Williams asked, nodding first at the charge pack, then at the wall.
“Like this,” Thomas said as he took the pack off Williams, laid it on the ground near the wall, and put his two grenades next to it. “The grenades will help boost the explosive force…do you have any more of those?”
Williams offered up three more.
“Thanks,” Thomas said as he put all the explosives down by the wall, before noticing a problem. “Uhh…you wouldn’t happen to have any detonators, would you?”
“That’s where all our plans hit the wall,” Williams said. “We don’t have any detonators, and we don’t have any weapons to set the charge off.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of that,” Thomas said, realizing that his thirty seconds was most likely up by now. “Everyone clear the area!” he yelled as he drew his pistol and backed off, crouching behind a ruined locker set a good fifty meters from the explosives. He knelt down and took aim at the charge pack.
“Fire in the hole!”
Bang!
BOOM!
The pack detonated in a massive fireball that shook the mess hall, leaving Thomas worried that the wakened roof above Michael’s position might fall from the force of it, but sighed with relief when he didn’t hear anything to suggest any collapsion, before heading over to inspect the results of the blast.
As Thomas reached the wall he’d been trying to break through, the dust settled and he saw the results.
“No!”
The explosion had taken a sizable chunk of the concrete wall out, and had cracked the entire area, but it had failed to break right through.
“I take it that from your yelling, and the fact that the wall is still there, that you have failed,” Michael said matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry, Hunter, but that’s all I can do,” Thomas said, struggling to contain his emotions. “The wall’s damaged, but without more explosives, I just can’t get through.”
“Hang on!” Michael suddenlly called. “I think Obliterator’s got an idea.”
Thomas waited, the anticipation already hurting. Could Obliterator find a way to blast through the concrete?
“Back away, Doomlord!” Michael suddenly called. “If this works, it won’t be pretty!”
Thomas did as Michael told him, backing away. Before long there was the muffled sound of Obliterator’s plasma cannon firing once…twice, and three times, before it went silent.
Damnit! Thomas cursed inwardly. Wouldn’t this wall ever…
Clang!
Thomas actually jumped at the sound. What was that?
Clang! The sound rang out again…slightly louder.
Then Thomas realized. It was Obliterator! He was forcing his way through the wall with his shield!
The third strike was met a loud crack! as the concrete began to fail under Obliterator’s mighty blows.
Come on! Thomas silently prayed. One more…
Crunch!
The wall failed as Obliterator’s fourth strike proved too much, the concrete pieces simply crumbling, Obliterator pushing his way through the mess seconds later.
Thomas grinned. “It’s great to see you again, my friend!” he called as he moved forward to greet the team.
Obliterator nodded in reply as Persecutor came out.
The Elite was a mess.
His armor was scratched, dented and torn, the gold plating now a dull brown. His shielding system was obviously gone, and his armor was certainly going to need replacing. There was also a nasty cut along the left side of his neck, dried purple blood clinging to the wound. Who knows what countless other, unseen injuries he’d sufferred.
“What happenned to you, Persecutor?” Thomas asked when he saw his friend.
“Collapsion caught me off-guard,” the Elite said, with the air that it happenned all the time.
Thomas simply shook his head in disbelief, and surprised Persecutor by embracing him. “It’s good to have you back, my friend!”
Once the two parted, Persecutor moved aside to admit one last person.
Michael’s black MJOLNIR armor was now a dull grey from the damage and the dust film on it, but he walked with his usual stride, as if this was just another day on the battlefield.
“Where’s your armor, man?” Michael asked as soon as he saw Thomas.
Thomas thumbed back into the mess hall. “It’s in worse shape than Persecutor’s,” he said, before wrapping his partner up in an embrace, like he did with Persecutor. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Michael was silent until they parted, when he grabbed Thomas firmly by the shoulders. “Don’t ever scare me like that again! Running off like that in the middle of this chaos!”
Thomas just laughed and shook his head.
“But that aside,” Michael added. “It’s great to have the team back together again!”]]></description>
        <pubDate>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 20:21:12 -0800</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 8</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=278</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=278</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 8-The Heretic Facility

Krystal kept her pistols raised at the airlock into the base as an Elite worked on opening it.
“Pathetic Heretics,” the Elite mumbled. “They didn’t put proper security systems on this place. It’s like they wanted someone to invade this place.”
At that moment Krystal did wonder about that very possibility. They should have known that bombing Australia’s main base would get our attention, and that we’d hit them back. But why would they want us to come here? “Red?” she called, “this could be a trap, let’s take it slow and steady.”
Red nodded, understanding. “Men, once we’re in there, no one play the hero. They probably know we’re coming and have traps laid out all over the place. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Once he’d gotten everyone’s confirmation, the Elite tapped in the last few commands on the holopanel and the airlock opened. Krystal immediately scanned it for any hostiles, but the small room was empty.
“Right,” Red stated, “everyone in.”
The twelves soldiers crept into the room, the airlock closing behind them, before the room hissed as it pressurized slightly, to match the interior of the facility.
What is this place? Krystal wondered as she waited by the opposite airlock, pistols still raised.
Within seconds the other airlock door opened, revealing a hallway, made of a strange metallic material. Forerunner, Krystal realized, remembering Thomas and Michael’s recounts of the Halo ring, the memory of the two Spartans paining her. At their end of the hallway, two bronze-armored Elite guards stood guard near the airlock. They turned to face the opening airlock, only to stagger backwards as a hail of silenced weapons opened up on them, neither able to raise the alarm before they dropped to the floor, dead.
So far, so good, Krystal thought as Red signalled for everyone to move down the hall. Maybe this can work out after all.
The next room changed that outlook immediately.
The group quietly traversed the hallway and moved to the door on the other side, with opened automatically to show the group a large room, which was obviously a security station of some kind.
And it was crawling with Heretics.
Both Elites and Grunts looked up at them, before one of the Elites yelled, immediately alerting the rest of the room. A human sniper immediately put the Elite down with his silenced sniper rifle, but the damage was done. Another Elite was working at the security desk, and instantly set off the alarm.
Before the group could do anything, the faciliuty went into lockdown, and the door from their position to the security station sealed shut instantly.
“Damn!” Red cursed, immediately sending someone back to check the airlock. He returned moments later, shaking his head, causing Red to curse again. “We’re trapped in here!”
Krystal knew what the Elites had done, and what their intention was. They’re just going to wait it out, wait for us to starve to death. “Okay,” she finally said, holstering her pistols. “Our cover’s blown, and they know we’re here. Time to send them a calling card.” With that, she pulled her rocket launcher off her back, slotting a missile into the front of the tube. “Everyone get back, this ain’t gonna be pretty!”
“Are you sure that’ll blow the door?” Red asked. “It’s advanced stuff.”
“You got a better plan?” Krystal asked. When Red didn’t respond, she proceeded back down the hall a safe distance, the rest of the group quickly following. “You guys might want to cover your ears,” she remarked as she hefted the launcher and gazed down the sight. “Fire in the hall!” she cried, before pulling the trigger, sending the rocket on it’s way with a loud whump!
The rocket streaked across the hallway, before slamming right into the centre of the door and detonating, the explosion rocking the entire hll and sending the squad staggerring. Krystal immediately put another rocket into the launcher, before following Red to inspect the damage. As she walked through the smoke, she heard Red yell ahead and knew that her rocket hadn’t been enough.
When the smoke cleared, she saw that the door had been damaged by the blast, bent and buckled, but it hadn’t given way, and now it was stuck. Red was grasping at the door, trying to pry it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Now what!” the Spartan yelled furiously.
“Here,” one of the Elites said, moving in to take Red’s place. The alien slid it’s fingers into the door’s broken seals, and with a massive heave, pried the door, which then grinded apart, freeing the way.
Nodding thanks to the Elite, Red unholstered his assault rifle, and nodded to Krystal, who, with her assault rifle now in hand, darted into the room, firing the weapon’s mounted grenade launcher at any target positioned away from the security panel, they’d need to use it later.
As she peppered the area with grenades, the rest of the team charged in, now firing their weapons relentlessly, any pretence of stealth gone.
The battle didn’t last long. The Heretics, expecting a stealth strike team, weren’t expecting them to blast their way through the door, and as such were caught by surprise. Within two minutes, the security station was taken.
“Okay, little guy,” Red turned to the lone Grunt in their team. “You’re our security expert, get this place out of lockdown for us.”
The Grunt nodded, before waddling over to the main security, sitting down and immediately setting to work overriding the lockdown procedures.
“The Heretics have this place locked down pretty tight. I think I can override it, but…” the alien stopped mid-sentence.
“What is it?” Red demanded.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” the Grunt replied cryptically, before explaining. “The Herectics might have locked down the entire facilty with our presence, but some sectors near the central tower were locked down a couple of weeks before.”
“What?” Red demanded. “Why?”
“I have no idea, but those areas have been locked down hard, this terminal doesn’t have the clearance to override them.”
Krystal suddenly grew suspicious. Why would they lock down sections of their own base? An uneasy feeling crept into her stomach. Something was wrong, she knew it.
“Never mind that,” Red said, waving off the strange turn of events, “where’s the Heretic Leader?”
“One moment…” the Grunt replied, working away at the console. “According to this, his quarters are located in a small room in the central part of the facility…” he tapped away until a holographic image of the facility appeared in the middle of the room. “We’re here,” a red dot flashed on the hologram, “on one of “limbs of the station. All of these limbs connect straight to the central area, where the Leader is. I think I can…got it!”
In response to the last two worked, a muffled clunk sounded as all the doors unlocked.
“I haven’t been able to open many doors, but what I have gives us a clear path to the Leader’s quarters. We’ll still have to break in, but at least the way is clear lockdown-wise.”
“Good work,” Red commented, before hoisting his weapon. “Alright, men, move out!”

Krystal’s uneasiness only grew as the group made their way into the heart of the facility.
The were close the the Heretic Leader’s quarters, and they hadn’t met a single hostile since their battle for the security station.
Something’s not right, Krystal thought, there’s not enough resistance. It’s like the Heretic Leader wants us to go this way, wants us to come here…
Krystal had voiced her concerns to Red, but he had shrugged them off, saying that the Leader had most likely gathered his forces around him. But Krystal didn’t think so. The Heretic Leader had set a trap, and they were walking right into it.
Suddenly the team stopped. “Okay, guys,” he pointed to one last door, this one locked down. “The Heretic Leader’s right through there. Krystal, kick the door. Everyone else, get ready, the next room’s gonna be crawling with his lackeys.
Krystal hesitated, then resigned herself to the fact that this was their only plan, moving up to the doorway and planting a C-5 charge on the door. She set the timer for thirty seconds before turning to everyone. “Get back.”
Once everyone was safely around the corner, she activated the timer and ran, getting back with the rest of the group, before crouching and covering her ears.
0:03…0:02…0:01…
BOOM!
The C-5 charge detonated spectacularly, the blast knocking everyone to the floor. When the team recovered and looked down the hallway, they found that the blast had actually torn the door from its frame. The reason they hadn’t used it at the security station was that they needed to save the C-5 for these sort of moments.
The group then waited for the inevitable wave of Heretic forces to come swarming through the broken door at them. Ten seconds passed…twenty…thirt…a minute…nothing.
Red frowned, then motioned a few soldiers forward to investigate. They crept hesitantly up to the door, before darting through it and looking around. After a few moments they gave the signal to follow.
Now Krystal knew something was up. The Heretic Leader’s own quarters were clear? It had to be a trap.
But the group moved in, and sure enough, the first room was indeed empty. They quickly moved through the Heretic Leader’s quarters, finding nothing alive.
“Shit!” Red cursed. “He’s gone!”
Dammit! We were so close! Krystal mentally spat.
What happenned next stunned them.
With a loud hiss-clunk, the doors leading out of the room they were in sealed shut and locked, holding them in.
“A trap!” an Elite roared. “That Leader is a coward!”
“Am I?” an Elite voice boomed through an unseen comm system.
Red ignored the remark. “Where are you, you snivelling coward!”
“Watching you,” the Heretic Leader replied simply, chuckling all the while. “Ah, you humans are so foolish. You thought you could simply walk right in here and capture me, just like that? I knew you were here from the moment you entered that first airlock!”
“Then why didn’t you stop us right there?” Krystal demanded before Red could speak.
“I felt like seeing exactly how skilled you lot were,” the Heretic Leader mocked. “And I must say, I’m pretty impressed that you though to bring along some demolitions. Good planning.”
“You won’t be impressed when I shove a rocket up your alien ass!” Krystal retorted.
“I don’t think that will happen,” The Leader shot back, with a carefree tone. “You see, I prepared a little surprise for you. I feel like a little sport, as it pretty boring up here.” The Leader then changed subject. “Do any of you know what this place is?”
“Aside from your hideout?” Krystal remarked. “A Forerunner facility of some kind? I don’t know, and I don’t care!”
“My, you are an ignorant race!” the Leader said with mock surprise. “This is a Forerunner facility, but its purpose was originally as a Flood research lab.”
“A what?” Red asked. Krystal also wondered. Thomas and Michael had mentioned something called “The Flood” on Halo, but never explained.
A sigh came through the comm system. “By the Gods, you are ignorant! The Flood are, to put it most simply, a super-parasite. They’re a race that breeds by infecting a host, which could be any sentient life-form, and converting it into a mindless, bloody-thirsty form of what it once was. This facility was built to allow the Forerunners to study them in an isolated environment.” As his meaning became clear, he chuckled. “And as for the sport I mentioned, well, you’ll see soon enough.” With that, the comm system clicked off, and the room fell into silence.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Red asked.
“I have a hunch,” Krystal replied, voice filled with dread, “and if I’m right…” whatever she was about to say next was drowned out by a bone-chilling half-scream, half-howl as the entire facility came out of lockdown…releasing the Flood.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Fri, 31 Oct 2008 14:52:16 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 7</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=277</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=277</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 7-Threshold

A single Stealth-Class Phantom silently deployed from the Assault Carrier and flew off into space, its Active Camouflage already turned on.
After the specialist team had been briefed on their mission to destroy the Heretic headquaters, the Arbiter’s Carrier, with the team on board, had flown straight off, giving the team time in Slipspace to prepare for the incursion. Of all the ScepOps soldiers sent to the briefing room, only twelve were selected for the final mission. Krystal, Red and Blue were all in the group, along with several other humans, Elites, and even a black-armored Grunt.
The Carrier had broken out of Slipspace well short of their target, a large, red gas giant planet similar to Jupiter, and had now deployed the single Phantom, with all twelve troops on it, the make the rest of the journey.
Krystal sat in the Phantom, shifting with both discomfort and nervousness. She knew the mission she was about to undertake was extremely risky and dangerous. If anything went wrong, there was no backup plan, and no escape. They would be on their own.
The mission itself sounded simple enough. Infiltrate the base, find the leader of these Heretics, and bring him back, preferrably alive, before leaving behind an explosive charge in the command centre to cripple or destroy the installation.
The problem was, there were a lot of unknowns in this mission. What was the layout of the installation? How many Heretics were there? Where would the leader be? A lot could go wrong in this mission, and Krystal knew that this wouldn’t go as planned.
Seeking a way to distract herself, Krystal checked all her weapons and gear. She first checked her vital weapons, her assault rifle and pistols. She made sure all three weapons had their silencers attached properly, and double-checked the pistol’s clips to make sure she had the correct ammo. Normally she would use gas-expanding rounds in the side-arms, but the stealth nature of the mission meant she had turned back to standard ammo. She still kept a few gas-round clips with her, though, just in case. She then moved on to her rocket launcher, which she would only use in desperate circumstances. She was leaving it unloaded, but she did a quick check to make sure it was clean and ready to go. A quick check also confirmed that the pack on her back, which contained several measures of C-5 explosives, was still there.
She quickly double-checked everything and, satisfied that she was ready, settled into a more comfortable position on the Phantom and waited.

Ten minutes into the flight, a small shake on her shoulder snapped out of a light snooze. She sprang up to find Blue staring at her through the gold-tinted visor of his helmet.
“How you doing, Tremor?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Krystal replied.
“I heard about what happenned to Doomlord and his team at Sydney,” Blue continued, sadness creeping into his voice. “They were good soldiers.”
“You’re wrong,” Krystal replied, startling Blue. “They weren’t good soldiers…they were the best. They were the four best soldiers this Alliance would ever have. We’re going to struggle a lot more without them.”
“I know, but there’s still hope,” Blue said. “We’re got the Brutes on the back foot now, and once we deal with these Heretic traitors, we’ll give the Loyalists the beating they deserve!”

“Are you sure that woman will be okay?” the Arbiter asked as he watched the Phantom trail off into the distance, until it was out of sight.
“Of course,” Grant replied. “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s our best Demolitions soldier.”
“Yes,” the Arbiter mused. “But I’ve seen many of your humans break under the sorrow of losing a friend in war. The Elites have been trained to set aside personal feelings in battle, but I have seen many of your humans take their own lives, or worse, go on a killing rampage at the loss of a friend.”
“Ah,” Grant now understood. “No, Krystal’s not like that. Her personality’s generally quiet and relatively emotionless. No, she’s only interested in revenge. She may grieve later, but until she gets her revenge on these Heretics, she’s more like a machine thing a living creature.”
“I hope you’re right,” the Arbiter replied. “Some of my best warriors are on that Phantom, I don’t want to see them return on the shoulders of the living.”
“Nor do I,” Grant said thoughtfully. “Without Doomlord’s team, we’re going to need everyone we can spare for the final battle…when it comes.”

“Five minutes to target!” the Phantom’s pilot called.
At that announcement, Red, who was leading the whole operation, stood. Krystal immediately stood up straighter and listened.
“Alright, boys, girls…and Covenant,” Red began, slightly awkwardly. They all were still getting used to the Alliance. “It seems we were betrayed from the inside. Australia’s central command base has been destroyed, along with hundreds of soldiers…”
Including four of the best, Krystal thought sourly.
“…by these so-called Heretics. They are cowards, attempting to strike us not only at our weakest moment, but when our backs are turned, too. It’s time to make them pay for their cowardice!” the Elites let out a war cry, ready to go. “But remember that this is a stealth mission. Kill quickly and silently, and hide the bodies before moving on. If things should go wrong and we’re spotted, abandon stealth and concentrate on staying alive. We need to find this Heretic Leader, and take him alive. Warriors! Grab your weapons, it’s payback time!”
With another enthusiastic war cry from the Elites, coupled by a chorus of “Hoo-rah!” from the humans, everyone gathered up their gear and stood, ready.
Krystal slung all her weapons in ther various holsters, before taking her place between Blue and a black-clad SpecOps Elite, who had his Energy Sword, deactivated, in hand.
“Ten seconds to drop!” the pilot called. “Elites! Engage Active Camouflage!”
A soft hum reverberated through the phantom as the Elites, and the SpecOps Grunts, activated the power packs for their Active Camo, within seconds, the only sign that they were there was the slight distortion of the air. Their camouflage may be good, but they weren’t invisible.
“Elites!” Red called, “I want you to go first. Clear the landing zone of any security. When it’s clear, give the signal and we’ll be right behind you!”
A shimmer in the air was the only reply Red got, but he knew that the elites had heard and understood.
Suddenly the Phantom’s engines whined as the dropship slid to a stop. “We’re down!” the pilot called. “Warriors, go!”
One by one, the camouflaged Elites dropped out of the gravity lift in the middle of the phantom’s cargo hold, even though it was currently deactivated. The lift gave a purple glow when activated that the Phantom’s Active Camo couldn’t hide, so they left it off.
Once the Elites were gone, the humans, and the lone Grunt, simply sat down and waited for the all-clear to follow.
This is it, Krystal thought. Finally, my chance to get revenge for the death of the team. Despite her certainty, Krystal couldn’t help but wonder if the team had somehow survived. The survivors couldn’t have searched the wreckage, because it would have been deemed too dangerous. Could they still be alive, trapped down there? Krystal vowed to talk to Grant about such a possibility when she got back from this mission.
“And there’s the signal!” the pilot called. “Everyone out!”
Pushing the thought to the back of her mind for the moment Krystal stood and followed Blue, jumping out of the Gravity Lift behind him. The drop to the ground was a meager three meters, so she landed safely, along with everyone else.
She was immediately surprised by the environment she was in.
Blood-red clouds swirled all around the platform the team was standing on, which looked like some sort of landing pad that connected to a massive floating facility, which was held up by a massive cable that stretched up into the clouds.
What is this place? Krystal wondered.
A quick check of the landing platform showed four dead Elites, all wearing strange, ornate bronze armor.
“Okay, team, let’s move!” Red called, his silenced assault rifle already in hand.
Krystal let a small smile cross her face as she drew her two silenced pistols and followed the team. Payback time.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Fri, 31 Oct 2008 14:52:11 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 6</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=276</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=276</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 6-Pointless

Private Ben “Sharpshooter” Williams stared at the man in the corner of the half-destroyed mess hall with mixed emotions.
He couldn’t believe that that man, with the shoulder-length brown hair and pale skin, with his right arm in a makeshift sling, was one of only two Australian Spartan soldiers. It didn’t seem right that he was a Spartan, and yet he didn’t have his armor on. The moment he had been brought to the makeshift “home” of all those who had survived the blast, he had removed his half-destroyed armor, and all his weapons, which were completely destroyed, before taking one of his undamaged pistols and settling in that corner. He hadn’t moved since, and it had now been three days.
Williams was genuinely worried for the soldier. He may be the elite of the Australian forces, but it was obvious that some recent event had shaken him terribly. Many fellow soldiers had tried to talk to him, but no one could get a single response from him. The only thing anyone had noticed him ever do was mutter inaudibly to himself and occassionally raise the pistol. It was obvious that whatever had happened, it had left the Spartan on the verge of suicide.
This made Williams even more nervous. Humanity needed as many soldiers as possible now, especially Spartans. This one needed to get out of this alive. But things weren’t looking good. The mess hall, while its roof was still stable, had lost all of its exits. There was simply no way out. And to make matters worse, the one long-range radio transmitter they had was damaged, it needed to be outside to send anything. The survivors had already had one miracle in this incident by surviving the initial blast. But to escape with their lives, they’d need a second.
All Williams could do was to continue organizing the survivors, and pray that, whatever emotional battle the Spartan was dealing with, that he’d win.

But Thomas’ struggle for his own sanity, and his life, was failing.
Try as he might, he simply couldn’t cope with the fact that the rest of his team was gone. Michael’s voice, the one that had saved him before, was long forgotten, and now Thomas, alone, struggled with his own sorrow and grief.
“I just…I just want them back,” he mutterred aloud to himself, staring at his pistol for the hundredth time, the longing to use it much stronger than before. Come on, Thomas, just do it! Then you can join them!
But every time he tried to raise the pistol, he simply lowered it again. His fear of death was too strong to override his desire for it…but he knew that wouldn’t last much longer.
All he had to do was wait. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer before his fear dissapeared and he’d be ready.
But during that time, his mind ran through all the memories of the war. His house destroyed…the Covenant shooting down innocent people in his street…A Jaguar taking a fuel rod shot and exploding…Melbourne in ruins…Sarge lying next to him, a hole in his stomach…Melbourne’s Air Force base exploding…Covenant ships glassing the planet, piece by piece…Silver, the Spartan who tried to kill his team…the Halo ring, it’s beauty belying the destructive power it held…Grant in hospital, his left arm a mess, his life fading…the Halo ring firing…
Bang! Thomas’ pistol went off, the bullet slamming into the roof above him.
He fired off six rounds, letting the loud sound stem the tide of horrible memories.
That’s enough! He finally thought. Enough war! Enough fighting! I’ve had it! He raised the pistol, and this time there was no doubt as to whether he would be able to do it.

Williams jumped at the sound of the shots going off, and looked at Thomas’ corner, expecting to see a body lying there.
He was relieved to see Thomas alive, the pistol pointing instead at the roof. But it was obvious that those shots had been fired in rage, sorrow and frustration. Williams knew that the Spartan had crossed the line. He had finally broken, and now there was no barrier between him and his next move.
He’s doing it, Williams realized. With a desperate, albeit futile cry of “No!” Williams, sprang to his feet and dashed for the Spartan, although he knew he’d never make it in time. We can’t lose him…

Stop, Thomas, you musn’t do it!
But this time Thomas ignored the voices, he knew they were his mind’s last desperate attempt to survive, and he didn’t want any of it.
“I’m done,” he said aloud. “I’ve failed, and my time is done!” he put the pistol to his left temple, his gun hand shaking. He still held some fear, but now his desire for death…for an escape from all the pain, overrode it.
“No!” Thomas heard Williams cry, but ignored it. I won’t be stopped…only one thing can do that now.
But even as he thought it, that one thing happenned.
“Thomas,” a faint, muffled voice called, “if you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do, stop right now!”]]></description>
        <pubDate>Sun, 26 Oct 2008 07:40:49 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 5</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=275</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=275</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 5-Proving Grounds

Krystal followed the Brown-armored security Elite down the purple corridors of the Arbiter’s carrier, wondering why she had been sent here, redirected from her old mission of being part of the ground sent to invade the Jackal homeworld. All she knew was that Grant and the Arbiter had redirected her here for a “special mission”, whatever that would be, and that she had been selected for being one of humanity’s best demolition’s soldiers.
But what was this mission? Krystal kept asking herself. Why had she been pulled pulled out of her first chance at an offensive against the Loyalists for some “special” mission?
Finally, after wandering through the various corridors for several minutes, with Krystal having no idea where she was being lead, the security Elite finally led her to a doorway. “The briefing room is in there,” the alien said simply. “Wait there for General Grant.” Before Krystal could pry the Elite for more information, it turned and left.
Sighing at the mysteriousness of the situation, Krystal simply turned and walked through the automatic door, entering a room already crowded with various soldiers, including the last two of America’s Spartans, Red and Blue, whom Krystal had already fought with previously. The rest of the soldiers there were unfamiliar to her, and they were obviously the best of the best.
So I was sent here to be part of an elite team? she thought. But why?
The thought was blown out of her mind by the looks some of the soldiers were giving her. Red and Blue acknowledged her entrance with a nod then turned away, facing a holoscreen, waiting patiently. But many of the regular soldiers eyed her with pure, unshielded loathing, and Krystal instantly knew why.
The elite squads were only reserved for the meanest battle-hardened veterans, which usually meant women didn’t make it, and the men that did were militaristic purists, believing that fighting wars is a man’s business.
“Sorry, girl, wrong room,” one jeered to her. “The exit’s the other way.” Many of the other soldiers laughed. Red and Blue turned, but could only give Krystal an apologetic shrug. She was on her own.
But that suited her just fine. Time to show these jerks what women can really do.  “Oh, no, I’m in the right place,” she replied evenly, no hint of fear in her voice. “You, on the other hand, must have gotten on the wrong flight. The training ground’s back on Earth.”
The soldier that had spoken before frowned. He didn’t expect a comeback. “That wasn’t a statement, girl, that was an order…get out!”
“You have no right to order me around! I have orders from the General to be here, which means that only he can contradict them!”
“Girl!” the soldier jumped to his feet now. “You are heading into territory you shouldn’t be in! You don’t belong here! And if you won’t go out voluntarily, I guess I’ll just have to make you!” he moved towards Krystal, rubbing his fists together. He hadn’t been in a brawl for some days now, and was looking forward to this.
Krystal could see what was coming, and knew there was only one way to prove herself to these men…to take this guy on.
The soldier opened up with a straight right punch at Krystal’s face. The puch would have crushed her face in, had she not dodged it with a simple sidestep. Predictable.
What Krystal didn’t predict was the second punch, aimed at her stomach. It struck and she doubled over, winded.
“Had enough yet?” the soldier jeered, smirking. He grabbed her chin, forcing her head up, before launching another punch. This time Krystal simply grabbed the fist with her own, stopping it well short.
“Hardly,” Krystal replied, swinging her remaining fist. But as the soldier brought his arm up to block, Krystal stalled the fiened blow and instead brought a knee up between the soldier’s legs, catching him straight in the groin. He folded and fell to one knee, groaning.
“Never, ever,” Krystal said sternly to the soldier, “underestimate a woman.” She then brought another knee up, collecting the soldier straight in the chin, causing him to do a full backflip and land flat on his face. “Now, have you had enough?”
Rather than answering, the soldier simply got back to his feet, snarled savagely at Krystal, before charging her once more, throwing all tactics out the window in an attempt to simply bludgeon her to death.
Sighing, Krystal simply sidestepped the charge, holding an arm out to block the soldier’s charge. His feet flew out from under him as the outstreched arm caught him in the neck and he thudded to the ground, coughing and sputterring.
“I’ll kill you…” he managed to mumble. “…you little bitch!”
But he never got any further, because at that moment Grant arrived, placing a boot firmly on the man’s chest, holding him down.
“Do that, and I’ll have you charged with both murder and treason,” Grant said. His voice was calm, which made it all the more terrifying. “You’re already up for unwarranted assault, don’t make it worse for yourself.”
“But, sir,” the soldier protested, “she…”
“Silence, Gibbs!” Grant ordered. “I don’t want to hear it. I know your record with women, and let me tell you, this is the last straw! You are hereby removed from this Special Forces squad!” Gibbs paled at that. “I’ll arrange for you to be transferred to another group tomorrow.” Grant then finally removed his boot from Gibbs. “Now go to the barracks, and don’t come out until I call for you!”
Gibbs rose slowly and, after giving Krystal a look of pure loathing, turned and left without another word.
Krystal watched him go, then looked around the briefing room for the reactions of all the others to that sequence of events. She was surprised to see respect in many eyes.
She had proven herself to them.
“Krystal,” Grant turned to her. “Can I speak with you alone for a moment?”
Krystal nodded, before following Grant out of the room and into the hallway. They walked for a short distance, to make sure they were out of hearing range, before Grant began.
“That was an impressive display,” he commented.
“Elite groups,” Krystal muttered. “Some of them just don’t know how to treat other people.”
Grant nodded. “That said, I think you proved yourself to the rest of them nicely. But I didn’t bring you out here to talk about that.”
Krystal noticed the look on Grant’s face. “What’s happenned?”
Grant didn’t answer directly. “Do you remember a team of four you worked with a little last year?” he asked. “Only two were human, and they were from Australia.”
“You mean Thomas and Michael?” Krystal asked, seeing where the conversation was going. What happenned to them?
Grant nodded. “A couple of days ago, some alien traitors planted a bomb in Australia’s central base in Sydney. Thomas, and his team…they didn’t make it out.”
No! Krystal’s mind screamed. It can’t be! In the months that she had been with them, she had become good friends with the group, particularly Thomas. “They’re…gone?”
Grant couldn’t reply with words, so he simply nodded. “That is why I’ve reassigned you here. This elite group is going to track down the traitors…and make them pay. We need your firepower, Krystal, as you’re the best demolitions soldier we have, and I thought you’d like a shot at these Heretics, as they’re called.”
Krystal barely heard the words, still trying to come to terms with the loss. Four of my friends…gone? It didn’t seem possible. Thomas and Michael were Spartans, the toughest soldiers around. Some said that they couldn’t be killed. And the Persecutor was said to be one of the best Elite warriors the Covenant had produced. The Obliterator? He was a Hunter…a living tank! How could four of the best soldiers the Alliance had known be killed in a simple bomb blast? It didn’t seem right.
But Krystal didn’t fall to grief, she was only interested in one thing now…revenge.
“Alright, then,” she said. “Then let’s get back to the briefing room and figure out how the hell we get these assholes!”]]></description>
        <pubDate>Sun, 26 Oct 2008 07:40:39 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 4</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=274</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=274</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 4-Rendezvous

“Michael! Persecutor! Obliterator!”
Thomas shouted with all his might, trying desperately to figure out where his friends were. They’ve got to be behind one of those collapsed sections somewhere, he thought desperately, refusing to think about the alternative.
“Come, on, someone answer me!” he yelled again. “Michael!”
The only response he got was for a small chunk of concrete to land on his helmet, startling him. He immediately looked up at the hallway roof. A small thrickle of dirt was leaking through a gap in the concrete.
Knowing what was going to happen next, Thomas leapt aside…just in time. A small section of the roof collapsed, huge chunks of concrete smashing into the ground right where he was seconds ago. Right after the concrete came a short waterfall of dirt, which eventually gathered into a small pile in the middle of the small section of hallway Thomas was trapped in.
With that close call, Thomas realized that he was fast running out of time. If he didn’t find a way out of here, fast, the whole roof would cave in. Thomas shuddered at the very thought of being buried alive. Although Thomas had never been claustrophobic, fear of what such an unstable environment could do was robbing him of his ability to think and concentrate.
“Please, someone answer me!” he yelled once more. “Is there anyone out there who can hear me?!” He actually pounded his fists on the concrete seperating him front his friends, trying desperately to get a response.
Nothing.
He continued his frenzy of screaming and pounding for what felt like days to the yellow Spartan, yelling until his voice grew hoarse and his fists, even through the armored gloves, were bruised and numb from all the pounding.
Finally, and one last, pathetic call, he knew it was pointless. They can’t hear me, his mind concluded hopelessly, because they’re gone.
The horrible realization struck him like a blow, he actually staggered backwards until his back hit a wall, before sliding to the ground as he legs buckled underneath him. Persecutor…Obliterator…Michael…all three of them…gone.
Despite the grief that ripped through him, Thomas didn’t fall to tears…he was well beyond that. His whole body shook as he huddled there, retreating deep inside himself in an attempt to dull the pain.

Thomas jumped back to the real world when something hard hit his helmet. He looked up…just in time to have a piece on concrete hit his visor, cracking it.
He immediately noticed that while he had been out, several more collapsions had occurred, and now the concrete roof was groaning with the strain of holding back all the earth above it. There was no chance it would hold much longer.
Thomas, somehow, stayed calm. Rather than searching for a way out out, he just stood and looked up at the roof, waiting for it. This is it…it’s over. With that last thought, he simply waited for death.
One minute passed…then two. A section collapsed, but nowhere near Thomas. “Come on, what are you waiting for?” he yelled out, frustrated that, having accepted death, it was taking its time in taking him.
Don’t do it, Thomas.
“Michael?” Thomas asked, bewildered.
Stay alive, the voice, obviously Michael’s continued. Keep fighting. Your part in this war isn’t yet over.
“Michael!” Thomas yelled, whirling back and forth, although he couldn’t pinpoint the source of the voice. It sounded like it was coming from inside his own head!
Thomas would never know what happened then, be it a hallucination or some form of telepathy, because another voice disturbed him.
“Hey! Someone there?” the voice was coming from behind the collapsed concrete and dirt to Thomas’ right, away from where the briefing room once was.
This time Thomas had no doubt the voice was real. “Who’s there?” he called.
“Private Williams, mister,” the voice replied. “Who are you?”
“Major Doomlord,” Thomas replied simply.
“Sir!” Williams yelled, “are you okay in there?”
“My arm’s broken, but otherwise I’m fine,” Thomas replied. “But I won’t be for much longer, this roof’s about to cave in.”
“Jesus,” he heard Williams breathe. “Okay, we’ve gotta get you out. I’m going to plant a grenade next to this collapsed section. It should blow a hole for you to get through, but I assume it’ll also destabalize the roof, so you’re going to have to move fast. Just find something to hide behind and call when you’re ready.”
Great, Thomas thought, cutting it close…again. He hesitated for a moment as the memory of the fates of the rest of his team hit him once again, but Michael words mere seconds ago, brought him back. They may be gone, but I’m not! And I will avenge them!
With that thought, Thomas’ survival instinct resurfaced, and he immediately looked for a something to duck behind that would protect from the flying concrete the grenade blast was sure to set off. He saw a small pile of concret and dirt from a previous collapsion, and ducked behind it, sighing with relief when it covered his entire body.
“Okay, I’m ready!” he called.
“Right,” came Williams’ reply. “The moment you hear the grenade go, off, move, cause that roof will come down right after it.”
Unless the roof comes first, Thomas thought as the roof above him let out a huge groan. He had seconds at best.
“Okay,” Williams said from the other side of the wall of rubble. “Ready…arming grenade…now!”
Thomas slowly counted the 5-second fuse in his head. 1…2…3…4…
There was a muffled thump! as the grenade went off, and then he heard a shower of dirt and concrete pieces rain against and around his cover.
Now!
Thomas sprang, leaping over his cover just as he heard the roof give one last, massive groan…then failed. Thomas kept running, covering the short distance to safety quickly, but knowing he was never going to make it.
He gave one last, desperate leap for the gap in the rubble-wall ahead, getting through it…sort of.
The concret from the roof behind him had miraculously missed him, but the falling dirt came down hard, encasing his legs from the knees down.
Shit, Thomas swore mentally as he tried…and failed…to pull himself free.
“Hang on,” Williams’ voice, now much clearer, said. “We’ll get you out.” Two marines quickly came and grabbed each of Thomas’ arms, then stopped as Thomas yelled out from when his broken one protested. “Not the right arm,” he snarled through gritted teeth.
Soon two sets of hands wrapped around his good left arm, and heaved, pulling Thomas out of the dirt, and at last into safety.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Wed, 15 Oct 2008 14:39:00 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 3</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=273</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=273</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 3-Tracer

As soon as Grant had calmed down the survivors of the blast, he called the Arbiter, who was not only commanding the Seperatist fleets, but also commanding the Earth defense, and got the Elite to pick his men up and transport them to various ships, where they they could be split among the various assault groups, who were to head off on assaults of the various Loyalist homeworlds.
Grant himself took a Phantom with a squad of soldiers straight to the Arbiter’s Assault Carrier, where he immediately trudged to the Command Center, preparing himself to give the Arbiter the sad news.
The moment he came into the room, the Arbiter turned to face him. “Grant! What happenned down there? You only gave a brief outline. Cursed Brutes! We’ll destroy the lot of them!”
“It wasn’t the Brutes,” Grant mentioned softly.
“What? Then who?”
“Rebels,” Grant replied. “Heretics. They planted a bomb in Sydney’s base. By the time we figured out what they had done, it was too late to stop it.”
“Survivors?” Arbiter asked.
“Around 7,000.”
Arbiter cursed at that. “And them?”
And now for the bad news, Grant thought sadly. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, though, so he merely shook his head.
The Arbiter’s eyes widened. “They’re dead?”
This time Grant didn’t respond at all.
“That’s…not possible,” Arbiter mumbled, still shocked.
“That’s what we’d all hoped. Those four have gotten this war to where it is now. Without them, humanity would be extinct, and your race most likely in hiding after the betrayal. It’s hard to see how we’ll fare without them.” Grant hung his head, the loss still fresh in his mind. They were the best…the very best. And now they’re gone.
He looked up when he felt the Arbiter’s hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, Grant. But we can’t linger on such matters. Let us instead concentrate on what they would want us to do…to avenge their deaths, and end this war!”
Grant let a small smile appear on his face. “You’re right! Let’s get to business! First, these Heretics…they sent a transmission to the base just before the bomb went off.”
“Yes, I know,” the Arbiter replied. “We picked up the signal.”
“Were you able to trace it?” Grant asked, hope springing into his mind.
The Arbiter smiled. “The Heretics don’t have good signal encrytion systems. We bypassed it in seconds and got an exact fix…although it doesn’t make much sense.”
Grant didn’t care. “Where are they?”
“Miles from either of our civilizations, in some distant corner of the galaxy…but whatever radio transmitter they have, it’s orbiting a planet.”
Grant’s mind immediately went back to something he saw orbiting a strange planet back in 2012. “A Halo ring?”
“That’s what we think,” the Arbiter answered. “But it doesn’t make any sense. The transmission stated that the Heretics don’t believe in the Great Journey, so why would they be on one of the rings?”
Grant thought about it for a minute, but couldn’t come up with any answers. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “You know as well as I do that our position is too fragile to allow these heretics to run around. We need to take them out…and fast.”
“Our forces are spread very thinly, Grant,” the Arbiter replied. “We simply don’t have the soldiers to spare to launch an assault. The Heretics will be ready for any assault.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a frontal assault,” Grant replied. “Like you said, we simply don’t have the forces to make such an effort and hold the Loyalists at bay. We’ll need a stealth incursion. A small, elite squad.”
“If it is a Halo ring the Heretics are on, that could be difficult,” the Arbiter replied, frowning. “And in any case, that squad is still going to need some pretty heavy firepower in case something goes horribly wrong…” the Elite stopped as he saw a small smile lift on Grant’s face. “I’m assuming you already have some candidates in mind.”
Grant nodded. “You said you need some serious firepower in case it hits the fan. Well, I know just the person.”
“Who is he?” the Arbiter asked.
“He?” Grant said, shaking his head. “No, not he…she.”]]></description>
        <pubDate>Sat, 11 Oct 2008 12:23:50 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 2</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=272</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=272</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 2-Legacy Lost

Grant was outside and at the evacuation point when the explosion rocked the base.
From outside, it was an awe-inspiring, yet terrifying sight. There was a flash of blue and a bang, then a massive blue explosion of super-heated plasma consumed a large section of the base, the explosion centralizing around the base’s command and communications center.
Everything within fifty meters of the explosion’s epicenter was completely destroyed, most of it vaporized instantly. The rest, while untouched by the explosion itself, was heavily damaged by the pulse wave, which was felt, even from the evacuation point outside the base. The pulse waved hit the various buildings and hallways, both underground and above, hard. Many above-ground buildings were obviously damaged, some collapsing even as the marines watched on in absolute horror. Many also noticed the damage to underground rooms and tunnels as they caved in, leaving voids in the ground.
Grant could only look at the situation in complete and utter horror, the base he had commanded for only a few short months…destroyed right before his eyes. And the worst part was that it wasn’t by the Loyalist’s hand, but by an inside traitor. The Sydney Army, now a legacy of the Australian Defence Force during this war, was gone, turned to rubble in one terrifying instant.
Once the initial spectacle was over, Grant immediately stood up on a small command tower overlooking the evac point, and did a quick head count. He could only make an educated guess at the numbers, but it still didn’t look good.
The base, at the time of the alarm, was holding about 20,000 personnel, including soldiers and staff. It was obvious from the numbers at the evac point that less than half had gotten out.
But what made it all the more worse was that Grant, no matter how many times he looked, could not see the heroic team of the Covenant War…Thomas, Michael, Persecutor and Obliterator…anywhere. Grant was forced to come to the horrible, gut-wrenching realization.
They hadn’t made it out.
Even as he turned back to the base, he knew a search was hopeless. The briefing room was located underground, on the outer edges of the destruction zone, a place that, while it might allow survivors, also had every single hallway and room in it collapsed.
There was no chance of survival.
Thomas and Michael, humanity’s greatest heroes of the 2010s, the two young soldiers who had risen at the crucial time with the skill and knowledge required to beat back the Covenant. They had completed several impossible missions that had repeatedly brought humanity back from disaster. They had forged the beginnings of the Alliance, without which humanity would surely have been lost to extinction.
And now they were gone, dead and buried in one strike by an inside enemy, not the way such heroes should have gone. The Alliance would have to continue on without them now.

What happenned?
The first thing Thomas felt was an absolutely agonizing pain in his right arm. The pain blasted his mind and body to full consciousness as he yelled out, trying to clutch it, instead banging his left fist on something hard and rough.
Stopping for a moment to catch his breath and calm down, he slowly reached his left hand up to his helmet, feeling around until he found the switch for the in-built flashlight. He flicked it on, allowing him to finally to see where he was.
He was lying on a concrete floor, obviously in what was left of the hallway by the briefing room. The concrete walls and roof were cracked, many places having pieces missing. One of those pieces was currently resting on top of Thomas’ armored right arm, the suit’s armor plating smashed in from the force of the impact. His whole suit was covered in a grey powder, and was battered and dented almost beyond recognition. His helmet was fortunately untouched.
He quickly brought up the suit’s diagnostics and did a queck check of all the electronic systems. His shielding system was badly damaged, and had lost all function. Most of his other functions were still online, but what disturbed him most was that a leak had been detected in his life-support system, which was meant to last him nearly two days. At the current leakage rate, he’d be lucky with two hours. He turned it on as a quick air check confirmed that the tunnel was pretty solidly sealed, and the air he was breathing was fast becoming toxic.
Next he rolled over to inspect his arm. The concrete chunk sitting on it was large, and most likely heavy, too. He wasn’t sure if he could move it. He moved his trapped arm slightly, wincing as pain shot through it. The arm was definetely broken.
Steeling himself for what he knew would be an excruciating, and difficult test, Thomas took a few deep breats, before putting his left hand on the concrete block pinning his arm, and pushed. He got a small response, but only managed to slide it an inch or so. He tried again, and this time the block didn’t move at all.
He kept trying for another five minutes, without any success. Come on, Thomas, think! He thought. Your life depends on it! You gotta get this thing off!
He tried again, using his right shoulder to try and apply more force to it. His crude innovation was met with some mild success as the block began to lift.
Yes!
But even as he thought he could do it, the use of his shoulder sent waves of pain through his body from his broken arm. His concentration shattered, his left hand, which was supporting the block, slipped, and the concrete fell back on his arm, causing Thomas to actually scream with the pain.
For a moment hopelessness overwhelmed him, as fatigue drained him of his hope of freeing himself. “Come on,” he said aloud to himself. “You’re going to die if you don’t do this!”
Mustering up what energy he had left, he gave it one last push, clenching his teeth from both the exertions and the pain of his arm, his body using adrenaline and survival instinct to gather up the deepest reserves of energy to lift to concrete block further.
Finally, after what felt like hours of heaving, the block finally rolled over, freeing his arm at last. Breathing heavily, Thomas crooked his arm against his side, and stood, finally taking a proper look around the room. With his arm free, and the pain dulled significantly, he was finally able to concentrate better, and notice something that he didn’t notice before.
There was no one else there. Michael, Persecutor and Obliterator were missing.
Claustrophobia and loneliness ripped through Thomas as he realized that he was stuck in a ten-meter section of half-colapsed tunnel, completely alone and with no means of escape.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Mon, 06 Oct 2008 07:06:42 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
      </item>
      <item>
        <title>Halo: 2014--Chapter 1</title>
        <link>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=271</link>
        <guid>http://www.gruntsrus.com/readarticle.php?article_id=271</guid>
        <description><![CDATA[Chapter 1-New Command

Thomas walked down one of the many hallways of the Sydney Army Base, heading for the briefing room. The young soldier was, for the first time in nearly two months, dressed in his military combat suit, identical the Mjolnir Mark VI full-body suits seen in the Halo video games.
At last, he thought, it’s time.
It was early February, 2014, and Thomas, now 23 years old, was eager to return to duty.
Ever since April 2010, a collection of alien races known as the Covenant had waged a genocidal war against humanity, pushing the species to the brink of extinction. But in 2011, several species of the Covenant, seeing the immorality of the war, allied themselves with the humans, and their desperate struggle to hold on to Earth.
Thomas, who was known only by his callsign “Doomlord”, along with his team, fellow Spartan soldier Michael, known only as “Hunter Lord”, an Elite called Persecutor and a massive Hunter known as Obliterator had become heroes in the four years since the war’s beginning. They had assisted in hundreds of battle right across the globe, and even travelled off-planet to stop the remaining Loyalist Covenant from activating Halo, an ancient, artificial ring-world with the ability to destroy all life in the entire galaxy!
At the end of 2013, the Alliance had won a great victory in reclaiming Earth from the Loyalist forces, forcing them to flee. In the few months since then, the Alliance had been consolidating their fragile position, the Elites bringing more fleets of ships to defend Earth, along with hundreds of thousands more troops, including Grunts and Hunters, to defend Earth from the ground.
But the Alliance knew, that while they had won against the Loyalists, the enemy was still immensely strong, and they had to launch an offensive before their fragile position was attacked once more.
And that was why Thomas was here, at Australia’s head Army base in Sydney: to be briefed on the first group of offensive missions.
He finally reached the door to the briefing room, where a marine guarding the entrance waved him in.
The moment he was in the room Thomas immediately recognized the man at the front, who was to give the briefing. General Trevor Grant was instantly recognizable by his left arm, which was missing from just above the elbow, a wound he sustained during a Loyalist attack on a British base last year. The general nodded to acknowledge Thomas’ presence, before the yellow-clad soldier to a seat next to his black-clad partner, Michael, who was already waiting with Persecutor and Obliterator for the briefing.
“You know anything yet?” Thomas whispered to Michael as they, along with a group of marines, waiting for the last men to arrive.
“No,” Michael replied, “but from what rumors the men are spreading, we’re about to begin assaults on the Loyalist homeworlds.”
“At last!” Thomas said. “It’s time to avenge those that have died!”
Finally, the last marines arrived, and Grant was able to begin.
“Men,” Grant began, “as you all well know, we won a important victory last year.”
There was a collective cheer from the gathered soldiers.
Grant waved a hand for silence before continuing. “But we can’t sit back and enjoy it. Even with the assistance of the Elites, our defenses are simply too weak to allow us to sit back and recover. We really only have one choice: turn the tables on the Brutes, and take the offensive now!” Another cheer. “If we hit them now, we’ll have the element of surprise, and we might just deal them some damage.”
There was yet another cheer as Michael leaned towards Thomas. “Sounds like a good plan, but how’re we going to pull that off?”
As if Grant had heard him, he continued on. “Our plan is simple. We know the Brutes have numbers, firepower, and cunning. We can’t afford to strike out at them yet. So our plan is to instead launch assault on the various Loyalist homeworlds, namely the Drones and Jackals first. If we can force them into surrender, then the Brutes will be less of a hassle.”
Thomas quickly raised a hand, waiting for Grant to acknowledge it before speaking. “Sir, what about the two remaining Prphets, Truth and Mercy? What are your plans for them?”
“A good question, Doomlord. I’m afraid that, even with the Elite’s technology, we have been unable to locate either of the two Prophets. The Arbiter assures me that they will come out of hiding once what remains of their Covenant is highly threatened, but until then, we just have to…”
“Good day, humans of Australia,” a cold, alien voice suddenly called over the base’s loudspeaker system.
The lights inside the briefing room turned off with a collective click, plunging the room into darkness for a brief moment, before the massive projection screen on the wall behind Grant lit up to reveal a scene of a strangely-armored Elite sitting on a hover-throne, much like the ones the Prophets use.
The Elite’s eyes flicked left to right, appearing to scan the room before him, before the alien spoke again.
“I must say I commend your race for the courage and determination you have showed these past few cycles. The Covenant Loyalists hit you at every turn, but you just kept on surviving. But no more. There are some of us…Seperatists, who, whilst we believe your stories about the lies of the Great Journey, have come to see your survival for what it is…luck. And we do not welcome those who do not have value to the Covenant here.”
Everyone stared at the projection screen with dumbfounded shock, even Thomas and Michael. Persecutor shook his head in enraged disbelief and uttered a single word: “Heretics.”
Hearing it, Thomas looked back at the Heretic Elite looking down on the briefing, and noticed that in fact the Elite’s strange, bronze-colored armor matched that of the Heretic Elites from the Halo 2 game. Yet more parallels, Thomas thought. How did Bungie know so much?
“So what am I going to do?” the Heretic continued. “I won’t tell you, you’ll soon see for yourself, both you pathetic humans, and the sympathizers who think their lives are actually worth something!” With that final statement, the Heretic smiled, before the screen went black, the room being plunged into darkness for another moment before the base’s power returned and the room lit back up again, looking exactly as it had before the disturbance, except for the bewildered looks on the faces of the Marines.
“What the bloody hell was that all about?” one marine asked the one seated next to him, who shrugged.
Thomas turned to Michael, who shrugged as well, before he finally turned to the Persecutor. “Well?”
“Hmm,” was Persecutor’s only initial reply, the Elite rubbing his gold-armored arm as he thought about the disturbance. “These Heretics obviously want all of you humans dead, but what he said about us knowing what he’s going to do soon is beyo…” he stopped, his eyes widening as he hit the horrible realization.
“What?” Thomas asked, worried. “What is it?”
Persecutor ignored Thomas’ question, instead leaping to his feet. “Sir?” he called, addressing Grant. “You need to evacuate the base right now!”
Everyone turned to look at the Zealot Elite, becoming even more confused. Thomas and Michael stared at Persecutor with mixed feelings. They’d never seen the Elite so worked up before.
“Whoa, calm down, Persecutor!” Grant said soothingly. “What’s going on?”
“That…heretic…said that he won’t tell us what’s happenning, but we’ll see soon enough. I hope I’m wrong about this, but if I’m right, everyone in this base will die if we don’t evacuate now!”
“What’s that heretic planning?” Grant asked, ignoring the murmurs running through the gathered soldiers at the conversation unfolding.
“If my assumptions are correct, that traitor has a bomb planted in this base, and it’s going to go off soon!” Persecutor finally revealed.
The murmurs rose to a new level as Grant digested the information. “That’s a big assumption,” he finally commented. “Are you sure?”
“Sir,” Michael now stood to voice his opinion. “Stalling is a risk we can’t afford to take. If there is a bomb in here, then we need everyone to get out now. Covenant explosives could easily turn this base to dust!”
“And if not?” Grant argued.
“Then we simply explain the false alarm,” Thomas added in. “All of the heretic’s words point to Persecutor’s assumption. I hope we’re wrong, but if not, many people will die unless we evacuate…now!”
That seemed to be enough to convince the marines, who nodded and stood facing Grant, waiting for the order.
It took Grant a few more moments to decide. “Alright. Everyone get out of here now, straight to the evacuation point. Come on! Double-time!”
As Grant turned to a small communication console to activate the evacuation alarm, the marines, along with thomas and his team, filed quickly but orderly out of the briefing room, heading down the hallway, straight for the nearest exit.
Sure enough, within seconds, the alarm started blaring, and an electronic voice called out over the loudspeaker system: “Alert, we have an emergency situation! All personnel to primary evacuation point! This is not a drill!”
The voice repeated itself constantly as Thomas, Michael, Persecutor and Obliterator followed the crowd towards an exit.
But soon enough, still a long distance from the nearest exit, the crowd stopped as marines filled a hallway, a bottleneck causing a massive holdup.
“Blast it!” Persecutor growled. “We’ll never get out in time with this blockage!”
“Is there another way out?” Obliterator asked Thomas and Michael.
The two thought for a moment. Michael answered first. “There’s one back the way we came. It’s a bit further away than this one, but we’ll probably get there faster if it’s clear.”
“Then let’s go!” Persecutor declared.
The group of four immediately turned back and went the way they came, down empty hallways, heading quickly for the other exit, all the while wondering when the bomb would go if, if ever.
As if summoned by their thoughts, as the group went past the briefing room once more, there a loud, rumbling boom, as much felt as heard. Then the entire hallway around them shook, crumbling before their very eyes, until the pulse wave of the explosion hit them, and none of them knew any more.]]></description>
        <pubDate>Sat, 04 Oct 2008 23:16:26 -0700</pubDate>
        <category>Fan Fics / Scripts</category>
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