Helljumper425

Funny you say this, because the book was supposed to be--in fact--a novelization of the game Halo: Combat Evolved back in 2001. If you'll notice, the missions are even titled the same as the chapters in the book, Halo: The Flood. The detailed statement used to describe the action of reloading an assault rifle is only a regular method of describing said action. Anyone who has ever handled a weapon would be able to relate to the click and smack of a magazing locking in the respective port, and the charging handle being released. A common conception. But you are correct in a sense. Combat Evolved is by far the best interpretation of Halo's lore and canon being implemented into gameplay. For example, the M6 handgun fires high explosive rounds, and if you note in the game after firing a round into a surface, there will be a small flare. It's volatile nature is also presented, rather surprisingly, by the sidearm's effectiveness against the Hunters, as a single shot to their exposed worm clusters kill them instantly, same as the sniper rifle or the shotgun, tearing apart the clusters in a debilitating manner. I always recommend that people play Halo CE or CEA before any other game in the series, and double before they read any of the novels. I found more appreciation when I read the stories for the first time after finishing the game, as they complimented the narrative quite well.

While it looks like you're pushing the boundary of the UNSC limits of Halo, I will say that this is do-able. The most you need worry about is delivery, which you seem confident on thus far. If it helps, the technology that supports AI override of the suit could've been dreived from Forerunner data and reverse-engineering, as an instance or two as you described did happen in Cryptum, in which a rogue AI temporarily puppeteered the main character's suit. I would reccommend placing this in either an alternate universe or somewhat of a standalone area of Halo's chapter, something more deniable, as people might be more critical of the fanfiction for being "canon breaking." I personally don't care. So with that said, Screw everyone else, sky's the limit. I only wanted to address the beliavablileieatasdhflkajs (that's a difficult word to type on the fly) aspect.

While an interesting concept, I can't exactly say it's unique. We've seen AIs influence MJOLNIR armor in some ways throughout the Haloverse, but to assume full control of a Spartan's set of armor is kinda stretching it. Unless you can find a way to explain the AI's taking full control through more direct means other than "they took control" then it'll be a little difficult to get off the ground as far as believability.

James tapped his fork against his food tray with a low clank, barely minding the fact that he had barely touched the steak bites and potatoes occupying it. He was at that stage where he could enjoy the steamy aroma of mushroom gravy, tangy steak marinade and garlic seasoning without so much as thinking about taking a bite. Hunger wasn't the issue anymore, as he soon realized that it had been mistaken from boredom. "Boss, I'm gonna eat that if you don't," said Lockett, sitting across from his team leader, already half-finished with his own broccoli quiche. Whimsically, James lifted his knife from the table and aimed the shank in the Private's direction. "I'd like to see you try, sunshine." "There ya go. Can't blame me for trying," he said going back to his own try. "Still though; three minutes is a long time to leave a perfectly good steak alone. What's on your mind?" "Another uneventful recon op, that's what." Aaron rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "That just happens. We're recon for a reason. It's not like every sortie we do is going to be a Wild West hit." "I'm not expecting it to be, in fact if I don't have to fire my gun at someone, I can call that day a good one. But you have to realize; the things we get into, the things they send us to snoop out, sometimes ending up being situations meant for the pay grades above ours." "I don't know why you're afraid of us getting in over our heads. We never really bucked an order on a recon op, which is specifically in place to keep us from getting in over our heads." "Okay, Lockett," James said matter-of-factly as he set his fork and knife down beside his tray. "Fact," he raised an index finger, "an entire colony on Harvest has been vacated. Fact: Mission parameters were to take a look, which we did, which yielded nothing--listening so far? Objective: Recon Harvest colony and eliminate Insurgent cell with lethal force if needed." "Which we found none of. Where is this going?" "We've done insurgent takedowns before--ordered, authorized and compartmentalized kill orders in the past year. How many of them ended up with the colony turning up literally empty?" "None." James stabbed an affirming finger toward the Private. "Fact. Something else was clearly going on and here we were on station to check it out. Whether the UNSC knew about it or not doesn't matter, but I'm thinking with something so out of the ordinary, we had a high risk of seeing something we shouldn't have. And when that day comes, I'm not gonna be the one with a bullet in my head when I'm not looking." "Woah woah, easy. I get it. Which is why I'm saying let's keep our orders to the letter. Ignorance is bliss, right?" "Damn right."

Malachi gave a crisp salute and about-faced out of the bridge, all the while considering Parker's insight on Insurrectionist capabilities. Personally, he wanted to throw in his own two cents on the matter, having first-hand seen what Innies could manage, much less Colonists alone. The UNSC trained its people well, there was no question about that. But insurgents always had their own tricks, and having managed to survive some few decades against an enemy stronger than them, even stronger than the UNSC for a time, their skills weren't without merit. The Harvest colony could've easily vanished under their radar given a night's notice and preparation. How they did it was open to interpretation and speculation, but that begged a bigger question of what tipped them off in the first place. An inside job was the only way it could've been possible. It wouldn't be the first time symptathizers had worked their way into the Naval ranks, he thought, shortly after reminding himself that this op wasn't his problem anymore. Nonetheless, his eyes were open and ears were to the ground now. He'd later inform his team to watch what they say around unfamiliar faces, but for now, he would take a trip to the mess hall.

James shook his head. "Negative, sir. No signs of combat. General wear on the colony, but nothing to hint at an engagement. Scans yielded no explosives residue either. If I were to guess, if there was an insurrectionist cell, they packed up and left by the time we arrived--wasted no effort on covering their tracks either."

The Sergeant straightened out, dropping his hand to his side as his other presented the AARs. "The After Action Reports of our reconnaisance mission. Speaking freely to save you the read, it's a whole lot of nothing prior to our recovery of the colony's black box." James tensed slightly, clentching his jaw after he finished talking, silently chiding himself for bringing up the security recorder. The op resonated bad vibrations, and he knew if this were persued further, it would be his team continuing the investigation, that was IF it didn't warrant a higher tier of special forces. "Will that be all?"

It had been forty minutes since Wolfpack arrived. Sergeant Malachi didn't even bother taking a shower since, before their departure, he had freshened up enough to be attending the annual UNSC Marine Corps Ball, of course at the ridiculously high (and mandatory) expense of two-hundred credits for admittion. He was wondering if the Talon was going to make good and start paying him some overtime, though technically they were off the operation. They had done what they needed in reconning the colony on Harvest, and as far as he knew the security recorder's contents would be passed on and any related operations would be assigned elsewhere. That's what he hoped anyway. The whole thing had a bad vibe about it. As he stepped into the Talon's bridge for the ritual of handing off the After-Action Reports, he tried to avoid any kind of hint at contact with the crew's intelligence staff for fear of being roped into uneccessary questions and possible reassignment. As far as he was concerned, he had done what they asked by grabbing the black box and nothing more. Arriving beside Admiral Parker, he snapped a salute. "Sir," he said sternly, the reports tucked neatly under his arm.

The team sat in silence as the upload began, covering corners and watching the livestream monitors. So far, the town was as dead as it was when they arrived. "Another intel grab as usual, huh?" said Smith, who was still spotting for Grey at the edge of the colony. Malachi grunted. "Yep." The awkward quiet passed when Lockett spoke up. "You guys remember that time we nabbed the flight recorder from the Imperio?" "Uh huh. Jackal Pirates--I remember." "You ever notice that despite the number of confirmed kills during the boarding process, we never actually found any bodies of the crew." "Most of the shipping freights didn't have crew. They're automated--that's the Kig-Yar's MO: hijack unmanned ships and leave 'em adrift after they've been looted. Any ships that formerly had crewmen were probably vented." "You mean they airlocked the crew?" "Exactly. So if you think this is at all similar, just remember that the colony is rather void of airlocks. I didn't even see any orbital tethers for that matter." "Either way, this ****'s wierd." James suddenly raised his hand up and tapped the side of his helmet, indicating an incoming transmission. "Wolfpack Three, we've received your upload. We're need to decode it before we can take a look at it. if there's anything else you need to do, get it done. Evac in 20. Out" "Roger, out. Alright, we're done here. Regroup and let's go." Lockett pulled himself away from the console and hefted his SAW. "Nuke the site for orbit?" "Yeah. Game over, man." Within fifteen they were all at their designated EZ. Sooner they'd be back aboard the Talon.

[Yeah, I'm just not feeling this one as far as plot goes. My creative genes aren't running on all pistons.] James killed his comm after a short acknowledgment and nudged Lockett into action. "You heard 'im. Move it up, keep it tight." A few minutes in, they were already weaving in and out of the colony's alleyways, nudging their way through all asses and elbows until they found the colony control center. The deathly quiet of the settlement was greater in the streets, up close than the distant observation points they used out in the field. No damage; just silence. "Should we check out the housing first?" Lockett asked. "I'm sticking with orders on this one. Let's get in and tap into their surveillance recorder." After achieving an all-too-easy access into the security center, James, Salvinski and Lockett swept the room upon entry, and after the Sergeant raised a thumb's up, he pointed Salvinski to the console. The Marine quickly tapped a series of keys and the recording module, a box-shaped device, ejected from the table. He then handed it off to the team leader, who then plugged it into his comm package. "Talon Actual, this is Wolfpack Three. We're uploading the security recorder's contents now. Standby..." "What do you think's on it? Nothing more exciting than our last op, I'm betting." "We're about to find out..."

Grey had managed to keep himself sane gazing through his rifle optics, scanning the colony all the while Smith continuously blurted out lines from twenty-first century rap artists. "Get it on the floor, get it get it on the floor--What! Get it on the floor, get it get it on the floor! You don't wanna party then yo a--" "Please stop that," the marksman uttered. The Marine complied, but not out of courtesy as his thousand yard stare spoke for itself. "The f*ck did you just tell me to do?" --------------------------------------- Meanwhile, James, Salvinski and Lockett were still idle outside of the colony's perimeter. "Hell with it," the Sergeant said, dropping his weapon and letting it get caught by its sling as he pulled out a long-range comm package. "Command wants a recon report, this is what they got." Clearing his throat, he spoke again. "Talon Actual, this is Wolfpack 3 lead. So far insubtantial results on designated recon zone, break. Colony is devoid of activity, hostile or otherwise. Repeat, no signs of life. We have no grounds to assume attack either. How copy, Over?"

With the settlement on full ghost town mode, Wolfpack 3-1 was comfortable enough to be standing upright as they conducted their sweep. This wasn't because of their overall glum attitude of the operation, though for lack of a better word it was starting to look like a pathetic recon operation whose after action report could be summed in three lines. No, the real reason for their lack of caution was simply because they had the room to get comfortable, what with the terrain as angular as their armor, they blended rather well, nevermind the pitch blackness that blanketed the landscape. "This is so f*cking retarded," Lockett grumbled as he stood in darkness, just a few feet behind the an imaginary line formed by the perimeter of light surrounding the colony. "I could shout right now, man." "Yeah. Worst that would happen is a noise complaint, right?"

Yeah, go for it. Either of you want to hop onboard and add to the little plotless storyline we have going on our op, I'm all for it. I frankly still don't know what I want to end up happening here so yeah.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure we all played the finale of Spartan Ops at this point.

My FORECON counter-part seems to have vanished. Sadly, I don't feel like carrying a story the whole on my own as I've already got my share of fanfics that I'm procrastinating on.

One; I really don't care what you said elsewhere so I'm not going to go out of my way to know "Why, oh why did BaconShelf leave us?!" Your self-dismissal was pretty much you saying "RP's dead, BYE!" So unless you wish to verify the parameters explaining why you left the Roleplay I have just that little bit of information to deal with. Two; Look around all you like. It won't change my statements or impressions. You had it in for me since I got here, and now you know that I know this and I'm not afraid to address it.

Just sayin'. He's been acting in that "holier than thou" sense since I got here, yet now he's the first to back out. Dun' matter I guess. Also, our Op is dragging its heels because we're still working out the parameters of the storyline. It might be a short, boring op, or it might delve into a firefight scenario.

Way to be a little bitchboy about things.

"You're always being a p*ssy, Sal," Lockett joked. Smith grunted. "Quit playin', guys." James glanced at the corner of his monocle's mission counter. "It's not that late. Anyone else notice the street lights are all off too?" "I don't think we're gonna get much sight of movement from here. Wind's picking up a bit," said Grey. It wasn't until then that they noticed the increasing disturbence of the brush. "We might want to wrap up here if a storm's coming." Lockett put a hand to his forehead. "Son of a *****...." "Alright screw it." James stuffed his binocs away. "Smith, stay here and spot for Grey. Sal, Lockett, on me. We're gonna cirvumvent the settlement one in the field and then wade inside."

James continued his scan of the colony. "Briefing was even broader: a simple 'check it out' and 'use lethal force as necessary' order. So take your pick, but either way, we're not going down there without getting a good look at what we're up against." "What are we up against?" Lockett asked. "So far, f*** all. No one's moving down there on my scope. Grey, how about you?" Grey's stance was unyielding, almost as though his unnatural prone posture was comforting in an odd sense. "Empty so far," he said in a low voice that was amplified by his lash gear. "No movement." Smith shook his head. "Where the f*** did everyone go?"

James turned about to raise a finger to Salvinski, though still moving in the same direction. "Hey, hey, hey. That's a nasty generalization. I can name at least five women from our platoon that didn't sleep around for promotions." "That's because there were only five women in Bravo 2," said Lockett. Malachi cut him off, raising a hand as he about-faced again. His raised hand then migrated to his helmet. "Wolfpack 3-1 copies. Send traffic, 508." The voice of Warrant Officer Da Silva, the pilot of their close air support, filled their helmets with a soft crackle of static, a blend of white noise from her Pelican's thrusters and the rigidity of the terrain capable of bouncing transmissions into overlapping patterns. "Wolfpack 3-1, you're closing in on the settlement, it's just past that hill. By the time you receive visual, you should be about two hundred meters from the perimeter. Over." "Copy that. Thanks for the heads-up. Out." The Sergeant hunched low and advised his team to follow suit by waving a hand to the ground. "Stay low, eyes up. DZ's just over the hill." The hike up the hill seemed longer than the eight minute walk they had just finished, but before they knew it, the squad was prone and working the rest of the way up for a better view, inching along be their elbows. The only sound they made was the gentle bustle of dried or frozen foliage against their fatigues and pounds of kit, that was until Smith broke silence. "Question," he uttered between efforts to move along the hill. "This is a civilian colony, right? This planet's being reworked towards what it used to be by colonial contract?" "Affirmative," Malachi grunted, coming to a stop. They had a clear view of the night horizon now, as well as the colony, a multi-structured establishment that formed to the shape of a residential block. "Doesn't that make this a demilitarized zone, Sergeant?" Lockett arrived next to the both of them, Grey in tow setting up his SRS. "F*** me," the Private said. James kept his eyes on his binocs. "That changes nothing. We're still here to do recon, so that's what we're doing. It's not like we're here to put these people in a policed state." "Sure, I get that, but if we ain't here--" "Then this is a black op," James finished, cocking his head away from the binocs. "Huh, I never thought of it that way." "Deniable ops, man," Aaron chuckled. "I never get sick of them...mainly because we never do s***."

A smile broke out on Lockett's face, however hidden by his shemagh, as he observed the horizon. "Sal, do you even know how much I want to call bull**** right now?" "Come on, Lockett," Smith said. "And you expect us to believe you had a thing going with a civilian nurse in the middle of a combat zone?" "Hey, it's true!" he objected. "Damsels don't exist anymore," Grey said flatly. "That's 'cuz she wasn't a damsel, jackass. She took care of herself." "And you, according to your story." "Damn right. Medical personnel: always experienced, always safe." "True enough." Smith shook his head. "I still don't believe you. What about you, Sergeant. You believe this nonsense?" Malachi grinned. "Which part of it?" "The part about nurses being 'experienced and prepared,' and the fact that Lockett claims he has first-hand experience." "I have no reason to deny it." "On what grounds?" There was a short silence, punctuated by Grey and Lockett snickering beneath their masks until Malachi finally spoke. "No comment."

"Parker says we check it out, we check it out," said James, leading point over a hill, which apparently had a twin running parallel to it, a pattern consistent with the function of a CSS excavation beam. Silently, he cursed as his night vision quickly mapped the terrain, and before he started their descent down the steep surface scar, he looked over his shoulder at Sal. "Besides, it's not like you had anything important going on."

Did you know that an engineer (huragok) was actually the first species of the covenant to kill a human being?