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Some of you may remember the Ground Zero, alternate story to ODST thing I had worked on. Sad as it is to say, I have since scrapped that project, as I ended up writing myself into a corner. So, instead, I started fresh, and where better to start, then Reach? ------ In the Epsilon Eridani system, Humanity is housed on the planet of Reach. Many men and women of this planet fought for bitter survival when the Covenant attacked, but inevitably met their doom. These are their stories. (DUNK DUNK! ) Many know the tale of Noble team, but this document is intended to shed light on the unsung heroes of the attack on Reach. In the timeline of July 24th 2552 to August 30th 2552, millions of lives were impacted by the Invasion of Reach. This humble documentation will attempt to deliver a solid glimpse into the actions of those affected; some tragic, some triumphant, some trivial. We begin our story two days before July 24th. Obviously, July 22nd. With Private Hector Rosario, of the 3rd Marine Battalion. This story has been accurately recreated using Rosario's own journal. The events within are seen from his point of view, and may, or may not, be true. JULY 22nd 1100 HOURS. REACH ORBIT. Hector marched down the halls of the UNSC frigate Luna, searching for anything and everything that could keep him occupied. With the lack of any liquor, or loose women, it seemed this native of Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A., Earth would be disappointed. “Yo! Rosario!” A familiar voice called from one of the many Rec Rooms. Hector turned to see his squad mates sitting, lounging around the various exercise equipment. Rosario's squad; Razorback 3-2, was one of eight 4 man teams that made up Razorback Battalion; A Marine Force Recon group. The team lead; 1st Lt. Kayla Duran was thumbing through the pages of a magazine, not even glancing up at Hector as he exchanged greetings with the other two; Sgt. James LeMay, and Corporal Neil Hawthorne. “What's shakin' Neil?” Rosario asked, plopping down on the bench of one of the weight lifting machines. “What do you think, Hec'? Not a damn thing.” He sighed. “People keep whispering the word Covenant, but I think they're still riled up from Harvest and all.” “Legitimate or not, HighCom takes any mention of the Covies seriously.” Duran said, flipping yet another page. “If it turns out to be a buncha bull, great. If not, they'll take the required actions to protect Reach.” “I don't know about that, Ell Tee.” LeMay said, pushing his thick framed glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I mean... you heard about Harvest like the rest of us. How do you stop something like that?” “By blowin' 'em to hell and back, then back again.” Rosario said, high-fiving Hawthorne. “It's not that simple, Hector. They have WAY better tech then us. High frequency E.M. Shields and the like. The only way to bust through them is to put every damn thing you've got into them.” “All I understood from that was 'shoot the crap out of them.'” Rosario said with a grin. “Bullets still kill these things. It's as simple as that.” Rosario looked out of the window to Reach. “Man... Why would anyone give a damn about that hunk of rock anyway? It's just a buncha farmers and Innies.” “It was the UNSC's first extra terrestrial colony, Hec.” Duran sighed. “It's important to moral. Not to mention, Have you SEEN New Alexandria? That place is a sight worth saving.” Hector sighed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, K'. It can't hold a candle to Chicago. Like, there was this one place I'd chill all the time-” The blaring of alarms cut him short. The time for jokes was over. The four Marines rushed to their feet, following the pre-set emergency protocols; Secure your gear, find your squad, and get to your ready lines. Razorback stood in full force, waiting for the Commander to give his briefing. The hangar completely silent as he marched out. Commander Jordan Cabral stood before the gathered Marines of his ship. “The situation is as follows. Roughly an hour ago, one of our sister ships went dark just at the edge of system space. They sent a final burst transmission, saying they were under attack by an unknown enemy. As intel is sketchy at the moment, we're to be on standby until called to action. You'll be boarding your transports, and orbiting the planet until we get that call. Move out!”

Well, I decided I'm horrible at establishing characters in the story, so I'd take the Lazy/easy route, and just make a few character bio's. Here you go for now. Name: Charles Louis Mathison Age: 32 Height: 6 feet Weight: 235 Pounds Rank: Sergeant Class: Team Lead Preferred weapon: M90CAWS Shotgun Appearance: Appears much older than he really is, with deep set wrinkles covering his face. He started to go bald at 25, and decided to just shave his head. Other than that, he looks to be a "Man's man" with rugged features, and a decently muscular build. Biography: A ten year Veteran of the ODSTs, Mathison has been around the block, and knows exactly what to do when the action starts. He tends to keep new recruits at an arms length, as he has lost a fair number of troops in combat. He has the skills to take him to a higher rank, but his lack of an education has seen him Locked at Sergeant for the rest of his career. Relationships: Logan Scott - Mathison trusts Logan, but not as much as he'd like, as his tendency for silence makes him hard to deal with. Christopher Lugo - Mathison and Lugo are best friends, having seen plenty of action together. Both of them love their job, but hate their restrictions of rank. Admiral Parker - Mathison respects Parker, but has his dissagreements, which Parker is quick to remind him who is in charge. Edward Buck - Both are the Senior ODSTs in the operation, and have been on several deployments together. Name: Christopher Xavier Lugo Age: 26 Height: 5 foot 11 Weight: 210 pounds Rank: Corporal Class: Medic Preferred weapon: MA5B Assault Rifle Appearance: The "Pretty boy" of the team, Lugo takes time to make sure he looked good. His Brown hair is always spiked perfectly, and he keeps a neatly trimmed beard. Much to his dismay, however, his body is grossly average. Biography: Lugo didn't choice military life, it chose him, literally. During his training as an Emergency Medical Technician, The U.N.S.C. drafted him as a Medic. He's made the best of it though, and is well liked by the people he has served with. Unfortunately, he has a problem with his temper, and can be rather reckless. Relationships: Charles Mathison - Best friends, and have served several missions together. Logan Scott - Lugo has a tendency to make fun of Logan, but gets frustrated, as the silent giant tends to ignore him completely. Name: Logan Alexander Scott Age: 23 Height: 6 foot 3 Weight: 290 pounds Rank: Private First Class Class: Marksman Preferred weapon: SRS 99D-S2 Anti-Material Rifle Appearance: Huge, with a very muscular build. He is rather plain looking, with short Blond hair and Blue eyes. Biography: No one knows much about Logan's past, but his files say he was rescued from a Colony world before it was glassed. He very rarely speaks, fitting the "Strong, silent" bill perfectly. His career has been decently successful, With nearly 50 confirmed kills to his name. Relationships: Charles Mathison - Unknown Christopher Lugo - Unknown Name: Tyler "Ty" Mitchell MacMillan Age: 18 Height: 5 foot 7 Weight: 150 pounds Rank: Private Class: Pointman Preferred weapon: M7S Caseless SMG Appearance: Short and thin, most people mistake him for being weak, or fragile. He has short messy black hair, and Sharp green eyes. He usually has a thick patch of hair on his chin. Biography: Ty hasn't seen as much action as most of the other members of T.R.E.C. but he is by no means a rookie. He has had several sabotage missions already, and has established a report of being quick, quiet, and efficient. Relationships: None. I should have the first chapter up tomorrow. please comment if you'd like, as it lets me know people are actually reading this.

It was silent. My room, illuminated only by a small computer monitor was near as cold as the space that surrounded it. It was a small, quaint area with enough comfort to satisfy someone who’s been on duty for the past few years. Such quarters are considered a virtue in the UNSC. Many marines wouldn’t have even thought of having a room like this, let alone a fully functioning, military-grade computer. The Papillion-Class mobile war machine, a whopping 3687.2 meters long and a breathtaking 654 meters wide; Larger than most warships in the systems. Titanium-A2 armor plating with advanced over shielding, Two Series 4 MAC Cannons, Multiple M92 Harkonnen Missile Pods and the Prototype – Onager Mass Driver Cannon. It’s a luxury to any marine and a pride of any captain. I walked over to the chair lined against the wall and slid it over to the computer. The computer was labeled “Standard Issue – UNSCDF Unit – 46328” in my name. I turned on the computer and started the computer’s on-board camera. Military Log - Colonel Alexander Hayter of the United Nations Space Command - Defense Force, ID-46328-29371-AH, Active since June 8th, 2503. Current Date: 5/16/2512. The war’s gone on for nearly twenty years; longer than I’ve served in the corps. Our terrorist friends have continued to elude us, and have shown no sign of stopping any time soon. They’ve killed hundreds of thousands already with makeshift bombs and stolen UNSC equipment. The moral of the UNSC continually decreases and we come to dead end after dead end in a fruitless effort to quell the wrath of the Insurrection. Clearly, it’s getting to our heads. We’ve been receiving word that the UNSCDF has a trump card; I think they called them “Spartans”. They stood tall over the tallest man and have an immense amount of stamina. They could tear turrets off of vehicles and fire them as if they were pistols. Of course, I never believed these things. Even for today’s time, this seems rather far-fetched but I suppose the scientists of yesterday felt the same about space-travel. I suppose everything is possible. Knowing these things, I couldn’t begin to fathom what life was like, even a hundred years ago.. Actually, I’d like to see that. Hearing footsteps outside of my room, I had realized that the assembly was about to start, I ended the log and started to put on my fatigues. After a moment, I walked out of the room and maneuvered by way through the barrack sector of the station. As I walked through the now-crowded hallways of the ship, I came in contact with a man, no older than I. He wore traditional UNSC attire with a Lance Corporal tag on his chest, which led me to believe that he wasn’t one of ours. “Come on, Marine. I’m not gonna stand here all day. Either you get your ass in here or I’ll shut the door in your face. Do you really want to explain that to HICOM?” Said the man with a heavy French accent. “And who do you think you are,” I responded “You’re not one of ours. What grounds are you issuing this order?” “Lance Corporal Jean Penwood of the UNSCDF, ODST Division, ID-99234-92844-JP. This ain’t an order, Marine, this is a kindness. Are you going in or what” He said back, more snarky than before. In an attempt to prevent further hostility, I obliged and walked through the door in a non-chalant manner. The door closed behind me as I walked through, I, Immediately giving salute to my commanding officer, Robert Watts. With me stood twenty others, all attentively eying the holodesk in the center of the room. “Alright, Marines, today’s your lucky day.” Said Watts as he scanned the room around him. “For years, we’ve dealt with the Insurrectionists but now, we’ve finally located one of their hideouts. By now, I’m sure most of you old-hands know about the Eridanus system by now, right? Hell, most of ya think of it as home. That’s why you might think of this to be a bit personal to you. This is Operation Blackjack: Track the insurrectionist leader in the area and neutralize him at all costs. With you are two other groups who have plenty of guns and ammo to assist you. You are blue team. I will be accompanying you on this mission as well. Standby for further instruction. ” He continued as mixed responses arose in his small audience. Most of us have never seen Watts in action. We were not sure whether we were to praise him for his loyalty or regret his accompaniment. “This is effective immediately. Report to the armory and prepare for departure. We’ve prepared several bumblebee-class life-pods for transport and two Pelicans to escort us down to the surface. At ease. ” At those words, we saluted our CO and left the briefing room. When we got back to the armory, I saw a familiar face. The ODST I had met from earlier was there, taking several cartridges for his sniper rifle. I walked up to a wall lined with a few Ma5k rifles and began stocking up my weaponry. Apparently recognizing me as well, Jean walked over to me. “Ah, so you heard the news, too? Eridanus II.. I haven’t seen her in a few years. What about you?” He said as he approached me from the side. I finished loading my Ma5k and turned to face him. “I’ve only heard about it from fellow marines on deck. Maybe on my next leave, I’ll consider seeing it with my own eyes.. You know.. Without the sounds of gunfire in the back ground.” I responded. “So you’re blue team?” “Yeah. You?” “No. Red. Who cares, though, right? No matter what side COM wants me on, I’m gonna make them innie ******** pay.“ The sirens sounded, reminding us that we should report to the flight deck. Penwood and I walked through the interior of the ship, making way to dry-dock with a few others following close behind us. The life pods were present as predicted by our C.O. as well as the escort pelicans. Me and the ODST parted ways as we entered the separate life pods, the doors closing behind us with a loud “swoosh”. There were several others on the ship with me, some whom I had recognized from my end of the barracks. In the front of the pod, I could see Watts having a conversation with the pilot. After a moment’s passing, he turned back to us and sat himself down. For a standard operation, he was rather unprepared, carrying but a standard pistol and a combat knife. “This is First Captain Robert Watts to UNSC Papillion sky-command; Are we clear for takeoff?” “Affirmative, Sir. Confirm with your pilot” “Alright, you heard ‘er, we’re ready for launch.” The pilot placed her hands onto the ship’s control deack and triggered on the main thruster. The ship responded immediately and launched us through the holo-lock and into the darkness of space. We had gone out of view of the Papillion in mere minutes time as the bumblebee continued to the surface of Eridanus II. “ ‘Any of you heard about these ‘ORION’ guys? This one guy I know whose got ties to ONI told me about ‘em. ‘Said something about... Spartans?” said one of the marines. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. They’re.. Robots, right?” Said the second marine. “No.. No. They’re like.. Super soldiers or something, man. They might be stronger than us but they’re still human.” Said the first one again. After a short while, the life pod broke into the atmosphere of Eridanus II. “Hmm.. Why do you think they call ‘em Spartans, huh? When I hear the word, I think ‘Shirtless guys with spears’ and I don’t think a spear’ll do much against an Innie’s gun.” “Hey, no one said that, alright? Besides, they’ve got this high-tech armor, man. It’s crazy..” The conversation was ended as the ship violently rocked. “Holy.. What the hell was that?!” yelled one of the marines again. “It’s just turbulence, Marine. How did you EVEN get in the corps if a little wind got’s you shook” yelled the pilot as she steadied the ship. The plane rocked again, making us all happy we were restrained in the bumblebee. All of a sudden, the bumblebee shook again, more violent than before. “Wait a minute.. That’s not turbulence! That’s gunfire! We’re being shot at!” yelled the pilot. “Where!” Cried one of the marines. As he said this, we heard the sounds of pelicans in the distance. They opened fire on us and our escorts, enticing us to take evasive maneuvers. “Holy ****! We’re not going to hold out much longer!” yelled the pilot. “Just hold her steady.” yelled Watts in response. Just then, one of our escort pelicans was struck by the fire, sending it hurdling toward us. The two ships collide with a loud creak, causing us to fall off course. “This is Seercul to Papillion station! We’re going down. Requesting reinforcements. Both escorts are down, I repeat, both escorts are down!” As she said this, the life pod hit the ground with a large crash. The loud screech of metal and the screams of fellow marines were evident as I lost my consciousness. I woke up in a daze; Blanketed in a thick coat of ash and my lungs filled with smoke and the stench of a long-present flame. I scanned the lifepod interior to find that the other marines shared the same fate as I. Many of them were still unconscious, yet still breathing normally. Others had clearly died in the crash, one having been impaled by the shrapnel of the lifepod’s hull. I took account of every passenger, dead and alive; No sign of Watts. It was to my suspicion that he may have been abducted by the Insurgents, confirming that he was still alive. The Innies were known for taking hostages as bargaining points with the UNSC; Kidnapping officials, ambassadors and even civilians in an attempt to distract us from our goal. I attempted to move from the burning lifepod, only to find that I was still strapped in by the restraint. I tugged at the restraint heavily to loosen its hinges and within moments, I was able to tear it from the wall, completely. I turned to those whom were living and began to pull them from the burning wreck. I managed to rescue two, including the pilot, and as I turned back to the lifepod, it collapsed on itself, killing the rest. Exhausted, myself, I leaned myself down against a tree. The sun was setting and the sky opened up on us. The raindrops pelted us lightly, gracing us with Mother Nature’s tears. When the others awoke, we salvaged the ravaged lifepod for our weaponry and gave proper burials for the soldiers. “What the hell do we do now? We have no communication with Papillion and we’ve lost half our squad!” Yelled PFC. Samuel Richter, one of the surviving marines. “We’ve got all the guns and ammo we need. We’ve got a new objective; Locate and rescue Robert Watts.” Said First Lt. Donald Miller as he scratched his beard. “What do you mean ‘Find Watts’? With all due respect, sir, he has to be dead by now. The innies probably got to ‘em while we were all out. “Responded Richter. “You’re right, Richter. The innies did get to him, but I bet my ass that he’s still alive. I know they call us corpsmen but I don’t think a dead official would do much good to the Insurrection. Knowing them, they’re interrogating him as we speak.” I commented as I fiddled with the safety on my Ma5k. “Hayter’s right, we need to locate him before he tells ‘em anything important. Richter, you still got that radar?” “Yeah.” “Good. Keep your eye on it. We’re doing this the old fashioned way. Kim, take this pistol. You’re no use unarmed. Alex, you’re up at point. We’re legging it to Elysium, first, so we can get in contact with FLEETCOM. From there, we rendezvous with the UNSC and set out for Watts. Get tactical, marines!” And with that, we were off. We walked through the vast forest for what seemed like hours. We crossed large rivers and marched proudly over any wildlife that stood in our way. We stopped every once in a while, camping out in the secluded forests and eating rations over makeshift fires. At the fires, we’d tell stories passed on to us by fellow soldiers and test our manhood over an arm wrestling match. We’d wake at the crack of dawn, every day for what seemed like a week, marching loud and inadvertently disturbing all the wildlife around us. We’ve managed to traverse the forest, leaving just a mountain standing in opposition to us. The air thinned around us as we walked, slowing us down a great deal. We came to a point where we’d stop every few hours, just to gather our breath before continuing on. The sun beat down on us in the morning, and bitter winds would overtake us in the night. Nevertheless, we marched on with the fanfare of the UNSC keeping our feet steady and our heads held high. The marching songs brought back memories of my earlier years in the corps; Even when the years passed, I still remembered every word. “When I die, please bury me deep! Place an MA5 down by my feet! Don't cry for me, don't shed a tear! Just pack my box with PT gear! 'Cuz one early morning 'bout zero five! The ground will rumble, there'll be lightning in the sky! Don't you worry, don't come undone! It's just my ghost on a PT run!” Just then, we hear several sniper rifles in the distance, the hissing of the rounds piercing our ears. “Hold it, marines. We’ve got company. Richter, check that radar for me.” Barked Miller “Nothing with 25 meters, Sir!.. Wait a minute.. Multiple enemies on the map!.. A-and I’m picking up an IFF tag! That’s a friendly up there!” yelled Richter. The ‘enemy squad’ ran down the side of the mountain, aiming rifles on us from multiple vantages. In response, we took a diamond formation, doing our best to mark out the targets. A final soldier slid down the hill, clad in dark black plating with a sniper rifle held in his hand. “Penwood?” I thought to myself as I looked at the ODST as he drew closer. “Why do you look so surprised? You didn’t think I would find you, eh?” The ODST said in his French accent, slightly muffled by the presence of a helmet. “I thought none of you survived. We couldn’t get in contact with anyone” Yelled a confused and frustrated Miller. “That’s what you wanted, huh?” He responded with a snarky tone in his voice. “What the hell are you talking about?” I barked back, insistent on figuring out what was going on. “When I heard about your defection from the UNSC, I expected no less. I didn’t even expect you to survive out here. Your story was the worst of em all, Hayter. I didn’t suspect you to do this. A man of loyalty; Betraying his own kind like this. You’re a soldier, the UNSC is your family and that gun you hold is your livelihood.. And yet you’ve betrayed it, betrayed us.” He explained. I took aim at the renegade and unlatched the safety from my Ma5k. “‘Betrayed you’? We’re on a goddamned rescue op, here! I’d be damned if you’d say I’ve got it out for you. I thought you were dead!” I said back angrily. “I bet you did. ‘Watts told us everything on com. He told us how you ordered those pelicans to gun us all down. You killed a few good men out there, Hayter. I won’t forgive.” He said as he let out a laugh. “Wait a minute.. That ******* ‘Watts’ pulled wool over all of our heads. You’re a damn fool, Jean. He doesn’t give a **** about us. He wanted us to fight; To kill each other. We’ll spill each other blood while he gets the front row seat” I responded back, more agitated than before. The ODST shifted his weight, as if to dismiss what I had said to him. He signaled me to follow him and started up to the mountain’s peak. Obliging to his wishes, I followed him. When we reached the top, he stopped. Snow fell around us; The cold was almost unbearable. I tugged my Shemagh over my face and looked over to the ODST, barely visible in the snow. He turned to face me and yelled. “It’s no fun killing you if you aren’t gonna put up a fight.” He tossed his sniper rifle over to me as well as a few rounds. It was a standard SRS-99C-S2 AM Anti Materiel rifle with a black-metallic gloss finish. The heartbeat sensor had been removed in lieu of a standard scope. I examined the weapon and loaded it with 14.5mm x 114mm Armour-piercing rounds. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Jean.” I yelled warningly. “You got four shots, marine. Want me to see things your way? Take those bullets and convince me!” He responded as he took his own rifle into hand. The ODST disappeared into the white void. My breaths were scathed; The world around me was quiet enough to hear my heart beat through a sheet of ice. I kneeled down and scanned the area for a target. Just then, a bullet whizzes past my face, the sheer force taking out my left eye. I fell to the ground, clutching my face. When I got myself together, I sent a round off into the distance, enticing the exposed ODST to run for cover. Realizing I had the same dilemma, I crawled behind a large rock, blanketed in snow. My face bled heavily as I formally removed my left eye from the strand that it hung from. I knew then that a few shots in the distance wouldn’t scare him off. If I wanted him to give in, I had to take him down, myself. I took my helmet off and began tearing the shemagh from my face. I wrapped the bloodied shemagh over my left eye-hole and glanced around the rock to find the ODST. A bullet smashed into the rock, decimating it and enticing me to duck down even lower. I had to think fast. I took the helmet off my face and through the helmet out of cover to the right. The ODST followed the helmet as it was in the air and fired off a round, which tore through the helmet in a split-second. Seeing this was my chance, I immediately looked out and fired a round at the ODST. The bullet tore through the protective armor, going right into the side of the ODST. Hearing him scream out in pain, I dropped my rifle and ran out to him while he recovered. The ODST panicked as I drew closer, firing off a round just behind me as I took the rifle forcibly from his hand. Using the momentum, he took out his knife and swiped at the air. The knife grazed my chest, tearing off the lower half of my body armor. I kicked the butt of the knife, sending it sliding out into the snow. Before he could reach out to recover it, I removed the safety of my pistol and aimed it at his head. Rather than killing him, I hit him with the butt of the pistol, knocking him out instantly. I quickly removed his helmet. The man’s face was pale. The cold was clearly getting to him. Realizing that leaving him out here was a death sentence, I hoisted the ODST over my shoulder and carried him down the mountain. The winds grew heavy and the air around us was practically a solid object. I scanned the area and managed to find a small indent in the mountain. I rested him down against a rock and applied pressure to his wound with a bit of fabric and some EB Green. After cleaning his wounds and mine up, I took his helmet into hand and examined it thoroughly. I could hear a faint voice emanating from the helmet. As I put it closer to my ear, I could make out the voice to be, in fact, Robert Watts. “Are you there? I heard gunfire. Respond!” He yelled frantically. “I think you have the wrong number.” I responded back. “Damnit, Hayter! You’re supposed to be dead! This operation was supposed to be carried out smoothly” He said angrily. “You’re the defector. You manipulated us. Why?” I said back. “Sorry, son. I’m working for the higher bidder, now. No more rations and fake cigarettes. Now, it’s nothing but fine cuts and ’Sweet William Cigars’. This game’s running at a higher level than you think, marine. Higher than you, higher than me, and higher than the whole damn UNSC.” “You must think you’re some kind of genius, Watts. Do you think the UNSC is gonna stand for this? When they get word, they’ll wipe you off the planet.” “And when they do, I’ll die with my head held high.” The communication ended. I took the helmet apart in an attempt to manually boost the signal of the helmet. I changed the channel that the radio broadcasted on and attempted to get in contact with the UNSC. “Put HICOM on the line. I have something they’ll want to know.” After a brief moment, I received a response. “Affirmative Penwood, patching you in to High Command...” “HICOM? This is Colonel Alexander Hayter. I’ve received word of the defection of Robert Watts.” “Sir, we are aware of the situation and are currently determining what action should be taken against him.” “.. You knew about this?” “Watts has been held in high suspicion for over a year, Colonel. We are aware of his defection to the Insurrectionists and have intercepted multiple communications relayed out to the Eridanus sector.” “We’ve lost lives out here because of that *******, Watts! If we were informed earlier, we would have taken him into custody while he was under our watch.” “Sir, please calm down. Operation ‘Ballista’ Is nothing more than a stem of a much bigger operation. We know exactly where Watts is within the Eridanus system and can confirm that he is on Eridanus II. This Operation was a farce. Months in advance, Watts stole UNSC equipment and hardware in hopes of bargaining with the Insurrectionists. We allowed him to do so, only because it would allow us access to the Insurrectionist base of operations. We can assure you that things are under control. Please report to Elysium city and call for immediate evacuation. You will be fully debriefed upon your return.” The ODST soldier began to come to. Suspicious at first, I drew my pistol and held it to his head. Instead of attacking me, he simply pushed the gun from his face and hoisted himself up against the cavern wall. “That round in my chest stung like a *****. You’re pretty good with a rifle. The ODST can use a gun like you.” He said in a frail tone. “Alright.. I’m all ears, Hayter. Humor me.” “Watt’s defected to the insurrection. Operation ‘Ballista’ was a part of his plan. He was carrying confidential UNSC documents on-hand. All we did was help escort him to his goal. He used us.” “But wait, he was on your lifepod. That must’ve meant that the Innies had searched for him and recovered him when you crashed.” “Exactly. As soon as we recovered, we realized that he was gone and went out on a rescue op to recover him. Suspecting that this would have been the case, he played victim and had you and your team confront ours as a diversion. My only question now is where your team is?” “I ordered them to capture your squad. If they followed my orders, they should be back at Elysium awaiting debriefing.” “Penwood, if you don’t get in contact with your team, innocent men might be facing life sentences.” Penwood takes his helmet from my hands, attempting to contact them via radio. “Hmm.. It’s busted.” “Sorry. Had to get in contact with the UNSC.” “Fair enough. We have a slight chance of knowing that they came under the same weather that we did, atop the mountain. If this is so, that must mean that they are just as close as we are to Elysium. If we leg it, now, we might be able to beat them to it.” “So that’s what we’re going with.. Alright. Let’s haul ass.” Nightfall had arrived. We made our way down the large mountain under the cover of night. Out of rations and without any direction, we trudged through snow and rock to our goal. Just before dawn had broken, we reached the entrance to the large city, illuminated with a plethora of neon signs and permeating with life. “The streets are dull in the morning but the nightlife is what reels the people in,” said Penwood proudly. “You’ve been to the clubs, here?” I responded. “Yeah. **** wine and terrible music, but the ladies made it all worthwhile. They say they like a man in armor, you know. Why else would I have joined the UNSC?” He said, jokingly. “Maybe when I’m all done here, I’ll stop by one of ‘em. Put some word in for me, will ‘ya?” “Hah, I’ll see what I can do.” Within moments, EDF troopers surrounded us, armed to the teeth. From the middle of these troopers walked a man well in his 50’s with graying hair and a well-kept goatee. “UNSC. Well, ain’t that ‘somethin? What business do you two have here, and where is your squad?” Said Captain Delgatto. “With luck, they’re on their way. We were sent here to investigate what we believed to be the Insurgence’s base of operations. We’ve told you too much already.” I said to the Captain. “They weren’t too kind with you, were they?” Said the Captain, examining my eye. “Not in the slightest.” I responded. “Come with me, I’ll get you patched up and we’ll see about getting in touch with your squad.” He said back. We walked through the large city’s vibrant nightlife, escorted by a squad of Elysium Defence Force troopers and their prestigious Captain. We made our way to a large hospital, where the Captain took us to recover from our wounds. “They can get you all fixed up within a few days, men. Get yourself something to drink and take a look around if you’d like. My treat.” Said the gracious Captain. “With all due respect, sir, we won’t be staying that long. Just give me a bandage and give Hayter an eyepatch.. We’ll be on our way as soon as we rendezvous with our squads.” Said Penwood sternly. “Understood, We’ll do our best to keep you in one piece while you’re under our care. “ The Captain responded. The screeching of wheels and the swoosh of helicopter blades pierced the silence as the sun rose. The world around us was waking up. We managed rendezvous with the remainder of our squads and convinced the EDF to supply us with transportation. Rather than going back to the Papillion to be debriefed, we were given a new directive; Find and eliminate that ******* Watts. With the assistance of the Elysium City Law Enforcement, we managed to trace the broadcast of Watt’s signal through Penwood’s helmet, tracing him to a run-down UNSC depot about two kilometers south from our position. We rested up and prepared for dispatch via pelican the second we awoke. “Alright. We’re inbound to the depot. This is an infiltration Op. Don’t go loud unless you’re told to. Got that, marines?” Yelled Miller. “Affirmative Sir.” Miller placed a large cigar into his mouth and fumbled for his lighter. “I want that *******’s head on a stake when we’re done here. Let’s move out!” The pelican landed in a small opening in the forest, a while off from the depot. We placed suppressors on our weapons and headed out to the depot on foot. “So let me get this straight: This guy arranged for us to get shot down so that he could be recovered by the innies? How come none of us were conscious to see this happen? I smell a rat.” Said Richter in suspicion of the change of events. “We’ll settle that out later. Right now, our target is Watts.” Miller responded. Within minutes, we reached the depot. We crouched down behind a few barrels and scanned the area. The depot was teeming with insurrectionist soldiers, clad in light armaments with stolen UNSC weapons in hand. “Alright. Richter, Kim, Collins and Matthews, you’re with me. Hayter, Penwood, Anderson and Connors, we’ll provide you with cover-fire. Just get your asses in that depot and kill that *******. Got it?” Said Miller. “Yes Sir” we all said in unison. We counted down from three and charged the base. The suppression fire drew the attention of the guards, allowing us to enter the depot without any problems. We walked through the interior of the depot, finding multiple machines with men and women alike strapped to machines. “What the hell is all this ****?” whispered Anderson. “Are they conducting some sort of experiment on them? Maybe some kind of torture-interrogation method?” He continued. “Whatever it was, I don’t think it was very effective, judging by the vitals on some of these machines.” I responded quietly. “Uh, sir, one of these machines is empty.” Said Connors nervously. Whatever this was, It was no interrogation. I had a feeling that this was, in fact, the equipment that was stolen from the Papillion.. Even after knowing this, I couldn’t help but feel that we’re missing something. “That definitely is UNSC hardware, but I’ve damnsure never seen anything like it. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.” I responded back. “Connors, secure the area. Make sure no one gets in and no one gets out. Penwood, Anderson, you’re with me. We’re turning this place upside-down until we find this son of a *****” I said as I looked around the corner of the room. The others nodded and Anderson, Penwood and I marked the hallways. We moved in a diamond formation, shifting as we moved through the derelict hallways. When we reached a dead end, we found two doors, leading in opposite directions. “Mark the room on the right. We’ve got you covered.” Penwood said quietly to Anderson. Anderson walked over to the door and tilted it open slightly. An insurrectionist, aware of our position, took notice and opened fire on the door. The bullets riddled Anderson through the door, plastering him against the wall. Penwood, standing slightly behind Anderson, fired a round off from his sniper rifle at the insurrectionist, killing him instantly. The insurgent slumped over to the surveillance panel, his blood trickling into the microphone, causing it to spark. Anderson was sprawled out on the floor, coughing up blood and holding his chest as I attempted to apply pressure to his wounds. “Anderson, we’re gonna get you out of here.” Penwood yelled franticly. “No. You’re not.” He responded. We held Anderson up by his arms and helped him hold himself up. Anderson calmly reached for his bag and retrieved a large cigar. “Could you give me a light, marine? My lighter’s dead” he said as he looked over to me. I reached for my own bag, retrieving a lighter of my own. I ignited the lighter and lighted his cigarette. He took one last smoke of his cigarette and looked back up to us. “If I’m gonna die, let me die how I lived.” He said as he closed his eyes. “No, damnit! Don’t you close your damn eyes, Anderson, that’s an order!” yelled Penwood; I could hear the pain in his voice. Penwood began to shake the marine in an attempt to wake him up. The marine laid dead-still there with a smug look on his face, the cigarette hanging rather limp from his mouth. As if accepting his death, Penwood reached for the neck of the soldier, removing his dogtags. “Here lie Christian Anderson, who died as he lived. He’s left behind much more than a few friends and family. He’s left behind an example for what every man ought to be. Even moreso, he left behind a legacy. Bury him with his Ma5 and his PT gear, so that he can kill more of those innie ******** when he gets to heaven.” Said Penwood, holding the dead marine in his arms, the blood from the marine’s wounds speckling his black armour. After he gave his short eulogy, we walked into the room with the dead insurrectionist soldier. The monitors flickered on and off as the blood of the insurgent continued to fill the terminal. We looked over to the terminals, finding that the other marines and FLt. Collins were still posted outside. We scanned each of the terminals; finding that the area was clear, save for one room. On one of the cameras, we saw a figure, standing still inside a large room. He had bright green armor that neither insurrectionist nor marine wore. He had his hands crossed as if he were waiting for us; A marksman rifle clearly visible on his back. “Something tells me that’s what’s waiting for us through the other door,” said Penwood. “Sounds about right.” I responded. “This one looks different.. Do you see that armor he’s wearing?” He said. “I think that might be the reason why that last bed was empty inside the testing room.” He continued. “Do you think it might be a Spartan?” I responded again. Just then, we received a message from Connors. “Damnit! I hear some Innies around the corner. I think they’re coming after you.” Said Connors warily. “Stay where you are Connors. We’ll be back in a moment.” I said back. “Negative. There’s too much of them to take on head-on. I’ll wait until they pass and take ‘em from behind. You just focus on getting to Watts” responded Connors as a loud click was heard in the background. Without warning, an explosion was heard, followed by gunfire. The hallway collapsed behind up, blocking us from the soldiers. “Mind telling me what the hell you just did?” Yelled Penwood. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all covered.” He responded. More gunfire was heard as well as the screaming of multiple insurrectionist soldiers. “What did I tell you? Just get Watts and I’ll stay on guard, he-Damnit, I’ll have to hold that thought!” he continued as gunfire soon drowned out his voice. “Well, I guess the only way we’re getting out of here is if we go through that door.” I said, looking over to Penwood. “Connors, hold out for just a little bit longer, we’ll be out in a minute with this *******’s head on a platter.” Penwood said in response to Connors. With that having been said, we turned towards the exit and entered the room across from us. As suspected, the green-clad warrior faced us from the middle of the room, his body unmoving as if he were awaiting orders. Even from a distance, he towered over the both of us; Standing at least 7 feet tall. The armor he wore was a sickly green and on his head was a helmet of the likes of which we’ve never seen before. The visor of the helmet was a glazed orange with a reflective scaled surface, under which, we could see two unforgiving eyes staring back at us. A loud voice was then heard through the intercoms inside the hollowed out building, clearly addressed to us. “I told you this went higher than you thought, marine. You’re looking at ORION’s dirty little secret. A fully operational ‘Spartan-I’. I intercepted the hardware used in the program and had a few insurrectionist eggheads whip a few of these weapons up. We lost nine of ‘em during the preliminary augmentation progress but this one managed to survive and he’s done more than impress. He’s an indestructible tank with no remorse and no regrets; A goddamned killing machine. He’s been itching to tear something apart and now he’s got two new chewtoys to play with.” Said an arrogant Robert Watts. “Sick ‘em.” The rumors were true. The Spartan program, ONI, experimental weaponry; It was all a reality. In the UNSC, we had believed these Spartans were our salvation; Knights amongst pawns with the sole purpose of putting an end to the wretched rebellion and the insurrectionists. Unfortunately for me, I managed to come across one, and I feared it had no intention of saving us. The Spartan took the DMR from his back. Rather than firing the gun at us, he threw it to the side and beckoned us to attack him. I gave Penwood a look at doubled back to the Spartan. Instead of obliging to his wishes, we opened fire on the Spartan. The Spartan charged us with an inhuman strength, not even flinching at the barrage of bullets. Penwood managed to fire two rounds at the Spartan, causing an orange light to flicker heavily around him, as if we were depleting some sort of shield. The Spartan sent a fist to the ODST’s chest, sending him back into a wall and charged at me. I backed up when he attempted to punch me and countered with a kick to the head. He ducked the kick and grabbed my foot. Seeing that he could potentially break my foot, I slid my foot from his large hand and sent a fist to his chest. I managed to get three punches off on his torso before he grabbed me by my arm. Learning from my previous mistake, I forced the captive hand downwards and kneed his elbow, causing him to lose his balance for a mere second. Having recovered, Penwood jumped back into the fray, sending a punch to the chest of the Spartan. We managed to deliver a few punches to the Spartan, drawing him back. Eventually, he began blocking each of our punches until he could deliver a blow of his own. Though connecting with my body armor, I could feel the full force of the blow slowly crushing my ribs. I fell back onto my knees with the wind knocked out of me. As I did this, Penwood leaned away from the Spartan’s second strike, drawing his military knife and jamming it into the arm of the Spartan. The Spartan stepped back a few paces before tearing the knife forcibly from his exposed flesh, causing his armor to spark once again. Seeing this as my chance, I leaped up and charged at him. I sent a fist out to the Spartan, only to have it near decimated as his fist connected with it. The Spartan kneed me, grappled me and slammed me into Penwood before picking me up a second time and throwing me down to the ground. My body was shattered and my head was in a daze. Nevertheless, I got back up and charged at the Spartan again. Penwood did as well, only to receive a brutal roundhouse kick to the throat from the Spartan. Penwood gasped for air as the roundhouse kick hurdled towards me, sending me into the ground. “He’s not breaking!” Coughed Penwood. He was right; Even after having received a combination of punches, gunfire and knife lunges from the two of us, the Spartan still stood tall as if he were unaffected by it. The invincible machine stood still as if he were waiting for us to arise to attack him, cracking his neck and fingers. “Wait. I have an idea” yelled Penwood as he suddenly arose and attacked the Spartan. He looked over to his sniper rifle and back over to me as if to direct me to it. Seeing this, I ran towards the sniper rifle and opened fire on the Spartan. The Spartan notices this and hurls Penwood to the ground before charging at me with full force. Two of the bullets hit the Spartan, depleting the shields once again as he drew closer at an alarming rate. The bullet In the chamber jammed, making it unable to fire. Penwood, seeing the knife beside him, takes his chance and runs at the Spartan. Unable to unjam the rifle, I hold the rifle by It’s chamber and smash the butt of the gun into the Spartan’s head. The Spartan falls back, vulnerable to the attack of Penwood from behind. The knife entered the flesh of the Spartan again, causing the Spartan to actually yell out in pain upon the connection. The Spartan threw the ODST forcibly from his back and attempted to retrieve his DMR. Penwood ran at the Spartan and sent a fist to the Spartan’s head, this time, causing his visor to cave in. The Spartan fell back onto the ground and attempted to grab his DMR. Penwood tore the knife forcibly from the Spartan and repeatedly stabbed him in his chest. “He’s dead.” Yelled the ODST, pain evident in his voice. “Well ****. Those guys are hard as hell to put down” I responded back. “Yeah.. ‘You alright? You look like ****.” Yelled Penwood. “I’m alright, but you owe me an eye, remember?” “You can have it when I’m done with it, Hayter. One of us still needs to get us out of here.” The Spartan’s grumbles could be heard. He looked up to the two of us, grabbing Penwood’s leg. “Please.. Help me,” He said. Penwood walked over to the Spartan’s DMR in a nonchalant manner. After a moment he walked back to the Spartan. “Wait.. What are you doing?” Grunted the Spartan. Penwood aimed the gun down at the Spartan’s head. “What’s your name, Spartan?” “.. My name Is Richard.” “Richard, after all the **** we’ve put you through and vice/versa, I think it’s safe to say that this is a kindness.” Penwood maneuvered the barrel of the DMR into the broken visor of the Spartan. With the flick of a trigger, the DMR fired, killing the Spartan in an instant. We walked towards the exit, making our way through the large doors. We walked through the hallway, now dark and without any life. We noticed that there was an opening in the ceiling and with Penwood’s help, I hoisted myself up and pulled him up as well. When we got out of the depot, we found a lone Richter amidst a slew of dead Insurrectionists and Marines alike, holding a pistol in his hand. He aimed the gun to me and the ODST, firing at both of our chests. Losing consciousness fast, I watched the renegade walk towards us. He kneeled down in front of me and said “Now I’m real sorry I had to do that but you can’t say I didn’t warn you, marine. Did you really think that Watts was the only defector? If you did, I have to say; You had this coming. Don’t bother getting up to fight me. I know that Spartan kicked your ass back there. You ‘best save your energy and run back to the UNSC like the loyal dog you are. This time, you tell ‘em about me. You tell ‘em that you’ve failed. You got all that? Good. Get some rest, marine. You’re gonna need it.” “Colonel, you’re not giving us much to work with, here. What happened to the rest of your squad? Were the captured? Killed?” “I don’t know.” “And the stolen gear?” “I’m telling you: I DON’T know.” “Why did you go against your orders? If it weren’t for your value to the UNSC, you would be serving a life sentence for treason.” “My orders were to-““Locate the insurrectionist base of operations” “I did.. Not to mention having neutralized one of their deadliest weapons.” “That’s not good enough.” “I did what I had to and I said what I had to. Your hour with me is up. Get out of my face.” “Very well then.” The detective leaned back from the desk, pressing his glasses back against his face. “You’re being taken to a holding cell, Mr. Hayter. For your sake, I hope that the ODST is more cooperative. Someone will be here to escort you, momentarily. Don’t be mistaken in thinking that I take pleasure in doing this. If it were up to me, you would be back home with your family. Unfortunately, things go much higher than you and I. “Did he talk?” “No, sir.” “We have no other choice, then. Can someone please get Catherine on the line, please?” “Yes Sir.” “We’ve taken an interest in your program. Tell me something I’d like to hear.” “Gladly.”

Hey there! Welcome to Astro's guide to Creative Writing! On 343i.org, my main focus is roleplaying, especially in the Militia Roleplay. It's all I ever really do, and it's what I complain about the most. So now, whilst I'm waiting for posts, I think I'll try to assist some of the members who want some help with their writing. To sum up how to improve your writing, you have to flesh out everything. You describe things in different, interesting ways, and make your post interesting to read. It doesn't come easily, but you eventually get used to "overdoing" your posts, to the point you realize "Hey, this is a pretty nice read.". Let's take an example, and work on it. I'll use one of my Militia characters speaking: "sorry, staff sergeant." said oliver. What's wrong here? Well, for a start, the grammar is poor. Let's fix that. "Sorry, Staff Sergeant." said Oliver. Now that the grammar is fixed, we can flesh it out. Right now, the statement is pretty boring, so let's add something to it. "Sorry, Staff Sergeant." said Oliver, looking down at the floor. As well as stating what Oliver said, we show what he was doing at the time. In this case, he was looking down at the floor. Let's continue to expand. "Sorry, Staff Sergeant." stammered Oliver, looking down at the floor with a dumb expression on his face, realizing his mistake. Why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? Here, I've added a lot more to the example. Oliver stammers and looks dumb, and he's made a mistake. He also reflects on the events, regretting speaking up. You can see that the character seems more human than when he was just apologizing to his superior. The expansion is also more interesting to read, and the word count has been increased from a measly five to a whopping twenty-eight! That's the most important rule when it comes to writing, in my eyes at least. Flesh it out, flesh it out, and if you think you can't flesh it out any more, flesh it out! The more detail, the better the post. Okay. Moving on from posts with speech. Occasionally, you have to write without saying anything. Perhaps because your character is supposed to be being quiet, or the character doesn't speak at all, or for any number of reasons. When there is no speech, your ability to describe surroundings and feelings is really put to the test. I'll use Oliver as my example again. This time, it's a quiet training mission, where he is trying to be stealthy: oliver walked through the forest. it was dark. he was scared. Okay, same drill. Let's fix the grammar again. Oliver walked through the forest. It was dark. He was scared. These three sentences are pretty boring. Let's expand. Oliver crept through the forest. He couldn't see a thing in the darkness. He'd do anything to be out of here. Now it's a little more interesting. Once again, we flesh it out. Oliver crept through the rustling, creaking forest, his heavy combat boots careful not to tread on loose twigs. He couldn't see a thing in the dark of the night, every leaf that blew with the wind causing his heart to hammer harder in his chest. Right now, he'd do anything short of killing himself to escape the clutches of this godforsaken, ODST-ridden hell. As you can see, it now sounds a little over-dramatic, but that's what you want! You can really tell what Oliver is feeling, how damn scared he is. If you think about it, when people are scared of something, they're usually overreacting. This is similar, as Oliver refers to the training ground as hell, when it's really only just some trees at 2300 hours. See how that works? Base your writing style off of real feelings, and you'll go far. That's just some basic tips for now. I will probably update this thread in the future, with more tips and pieces of advice. In the meantime, feel free to ask any questions about writing, whether it's for class, just for fun or you're considering writing as a career. I'm happy to answer anything you throw at me - I'll try my hardest to help ya.

How do Cortana and the Chief know that the Forerunner they meet is in fact the Didact? Maybe I missed it but Cortana seems to just pluck the name out of the air, and then everyone (even the Librarian, with whom they've had no contact) refers to him as such for the rest of the game. It seems as though there's no canonical way for them to know that this guy is the Didact until the meet the Librarian and she lays it out for them Their in-game logic seems to be "I read about a Forerunner called the Didact once, I just met a Forerunner, therefore that Forerunner is the Didact" - no dice, this doesn't work

I wasn't sure if I should put this here, because it's a member created work, or in Other Games, because it's not Halo related, so if I've made a mistake, would a Mod please move this to the appropriate forum? Other than that, Welcome to my new writing project! Here's the deal, I've been playing XCOM: Enemy Unknown for a while, and I love it. So I had this idea a while back: The commander must receive reports about his missions, right? (RIGHT?!?!?) So I decided I'd write de-breifings to my missions. Now you may be asking: "BUT BOOOS? WAT DOO DAT MAEN?" Because apparently I think you talk like that No offense... This means, as I do my current play-through of XCOM, I'll write real reports of my missions, along with some in between stuff, such as Commander's Logs, Personal journals, Radio Logs, and if the inevitable occurs, Eulogies for my soldiers. Which means, everything you're about to read, is a creative play-by-play of what ACTUALLY happens when I play. ENJOY! MISSION 1 Operation Vengeful Sentinel Cologne, Germany March 1st, 2015 Squad members: Rookie Holly Lee Rookie Saida Isra Rookie Sarah Mcintosh Rookie Karen Jensen Mission Brief: Abductions in the German Mainland. Big Sky dispatched with Strike 1. Orders are to eliminate Alien presence on sight. Mission details: Big Sky touched down at 1:30 A.M. Local. Strike One deployed in the commercial district of Cologne. Rookie Isra made contact with invaders at 2:00 A.M, (Isra scored XCOM's first kill seconds after contact) Enemies responded with hostile force. (Enemies utilize some form of superheated plasma weapon, recommend collection for further study) At 2:10 A.M. Rookie Jensen made contact with a second group of E.T.'s in the Eastern Warehouse. (Jensen also scored a kill shortly after contact) Rookie Isra was pinned by enemy fire on the opposite side, near the Western building. Enemy suppresive fire was lifted by a well-placed frag grenade from Rookie Mcintosh. Rookie Lee entered the Warehouse, and eliminated the final Alien in the Operational Zone. Big Sky returned, and Strike 1 was evacuated at 3:12 A.M. No casualties, no injuries. Kill Count Lee: 1 Isra: 1 Mcintosh: 1 Jensen: 1 Central Officer Bradford's notes: It couldn't have been easy being the first ones to go out on a mission, but our team pulled through. I'm recommending promotions for all four squad members, and specialized training as well. Lee has some Medical experience, so I recommend she take a support role. Isra's pretty strong (And pretty loud, but that's just between you and me, Commander.) I recommend she be given a Machine gun, and let her figure out the rest. Although it didn't show in this mission, Mcintosh is one of our best shots, and with enough time, she could be a devious marksman. I don't like Jensen's reckless attitude, but she got results, getting the first kill on the books, which means I owe her a drink. I say give her a shotgun, and let her work her magic. Other than that, I think we've done well for ourselves. But I wouldn't get too comfortable. There are still a lot of countries that haven't checked in yet. I recommend we bolster our ranks, and start researching these... things. Dr. Vahlen is ready and waiting for you when you have a moment. Non-Combat Information: None at this time.

This is something I realised just yesterday o.O If you look closely on the upper left of Chief's chest, you can notice this: . . . . . . This translates to "117" in the Breille system! I just wanted to post this because it's kinda cool, I wonder if it's an easter egg. Maybe he missed the 117 painted on him on his Mark V armor

Hello everyone. I'm HaloGeek, as you all know. It seems that we have a lot of writers on this site, and that is great! A few that I can point out are D-38 Boss, BaconShelf, xD Sp4rkFloW x, and Minuette. The minds of authors bring people together, and encourage very active conversation. Our fiction writers have some of the most creative minds on the site. If you don't like their work, then at least applaud for them trying. Currently, the 'novels in progress' or fanfiction posted on the forum always takes me away from the physical world and brings me into the Ethereal- the minds of the characters. There I can see the story unfold into what it will eventually be. The reason I zone out is because the plot, the characters, the setting, are just so wrenching and real. No writer should be discouraged from criticism. In fact, that is what drives you writers on, to improve yourself. So far, the amount of thought that has been put into the works of fiction by our members is large. It gives us something to read, something to take us away from that bad day you had at school or work. Writers, fandom creators, keep going. You hold the best for the future of writing. Let nothing stop you, nothing. Because you shouldn't be writing from your brain, you should be writing from your heart, and soul. It may take a while to be able to do that, but once you have it down, your writing will be 99% better. Think of it like this: You use your brain to make the ideas, then refine them and write them with your heart and soul. I used to be a writer. My stories were good at first, but it always seemed that no more ideas could flow to my brain after a certain point. It makes many soon-to-be best selling authors give up some of their most precious and awesome stories. This entity, this thing that I am talking about is called 'writers block'. Writers block is a condition which authors are unable to produce knew ideas/work for their stories. Sometimes it is so bad, it goes on for several years and many have quit their careers as authors. But really, I got around it, before I quit writing, because of so much there is to do in life. Go outside, take a walk. See a movie, gather ideas. You can avoid writers block easily if you just take your pencil off the paper and gather your thoughts. Its as easy as that. When you have your thoughts together, put them on paper into a story. I promise you, if you just take some time off, you'll be able to produce your story 5x then what it used to be. The reason I quit was because I simply had written so much, my brain hurt when I looked at a piece of paper. Criticism. It is something that all writers or artists or cooks receive when someone doesn't like their product. Sometimes it can be constructive, which means it will help you make newer stories better, or negative criticism where it just hurts your feelings. It should never be taken seriously, at least the negative criticism because if you do, you'll stop writing. Always take the constructive seriously, because it will help you so much. It is designed to take the bad things out of your story and tell you how to improve upon them. Once they tell you, the constructiveness will form inside your brain, leading for more incredible things to be processed by the heart and soul. So, aspiring writers on the site and all around the world. Take a break and gather your thoughts. Don't think you should take negative criticism seriously. Constructive criticism is the way to go. So if you learned something today, then put the knowledge into action. Don't sit there and think you aren't able to make your book. Because you can, if you do the right things. ~HaloGeek