A day in the Life of a UNSC Marine

This is a story I wrote for school a few (many) years back. It'll help to understand it if you know a thing or two about Halo, the video game franchise. I'm thinking about continuing it but I kind of like leaving it where it is.  Thoughts?

     Okay. Here we go. Relax. Take a deep breath. You've done this a millions times before. No worries. Okay. Are you ready? You better be ready. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now. Go! I start running. Eyes in front. No looking down or to the sides. Just have to run. Coming up on the first corner. Slide around and scramble through the door. Okay. You made it. Now just pick up the launcher and go. Boy, it's heavy. Set it on your shoulder. Good. Aim. Fire. Bam! Bull’s-eye!

     I've got to run again. This time to the stairs. No time to count them. Just go. I reach the top. Gun down the nearest grunt. Reload. Refill on grenades and head back down the stairs. I slip on damp stains I’d rather not identify and almost fall. Keep going. Get behind cover. Take down the couple grunts coming toward you. Run again. There's the Warthog. Hop in the driver's seat and punch it. Don't lose control. I slide around the other corner and run over two more grunts. I drive towards the stairs. Jump out. Don't even bother stopping the car. Reach the top.

     I'm okay. No holes in me yet. I reach for the sniper rifle right as a shot burns a hole in the wall two inches from my hand. Ugh. Jackals. Twist around. Aim for the hand. Then the head. One down. Load the sniper rifle. Pop over the wall and take aim. He's moving too fast! I won't be able to get him. Think. Breathe. Aim. Follow his head. Pressure on the trigger. Not yet. Not yet. NOW! I fire. Got him in the chest. Reload. Take aim again. Bring him down!  I fire again. This time I hit him in the head. Plasma begins to rain down all around me. They've spotted you! Take cover! Don't move yet. Wait.  An explosion goes off no more than ten feet from where I'm crouching. Smoke from burning grass stings my eyes and nose. Now go. Run. Keep low. Don't let them fire twice.

    I scramble for safety. Wherever that is. Gunfire, grenades, plasma, you name it. I'm dodging it.  They're bringing in reinforcements. I've got to get a stronger gun. There! That brute with the Plasma Cannon. That'll work. I smile to myself. It’s about a 20 foot drop from here to the ground. You can do it.  I step back, take a few steps and leap.  See? You totally got this. Crap. He's spotted me. I can't move. I'm in midair. Come on gravity! Work faster. I hit the ground and immediately dive to my left. Plasma burns the ground I was just standing on. Roll. Take aim. Fire! I said fire! I'm out of ammo. I quickly pull out my pistol and start shooting like crazy. Not that it will help. The brutes armored to the teeth. There's a grunt behind him. Ha! He's got grenades! My lucky day. I stand up and keep firing at the brute.

     I sidestep to the left and he side steps to the right. I keep going until we've switched spots completely. Turn around. Shoot the grunt. Grab a grenade. Aim. Pull the pin. Throw.  My aim is a little off but it does the trick. I sprint back to the brute and pick up the cannon. Just in time too. Three jackals with energy shields come charging around the corner. One shot between them should do it.  Ha!  I was right. They go flying off in different directions leaving some ammo for me to pick up. Thanks. I now have to find who the biggest threat is. I look around. It sees me before I see it.

Uh-oh.

Hunter. Just my luck.

Writing.

So a lot of people I know or know of use writing as a therapy tool. It's got me thinking that maybe I should too. I used to love to write stories. I would like to try again. See if I can't get my creative juices flowing once more. So be on the lookout for some original Tyro stories! Or don't. Who knows what will happen.