Hail to the Master Chief

He stands on top of the communications bunker and looks out across the shallow valley. It's been half a standard year since he last stood on this very spot. Nothing's changed. Behind the mirrored visor, he smiles.


The crackle of small arms fire carries on the breeze but he hears a different song, an ancient one, of times long since past. "Good times".

Living easy, livin' free, Season ticket, on a one - way ride.

Reaching down, he pulls the turret gun from its' mount. "Time to go to work".

Asking nothing, leave me be. Taking everything in my stride.

Jumping down, he stalks forward. The weight of the gun slows him but there's no rush, he's savouring the moment. A pencil-thin beam flickers across his chest. He ducks behind a low rise as the full charge of the Spartan Laser blasts a shallow crater in the earth. "Missed, ya fucker".

Don't need reason, don't need rhyme Ain't nothing I'd rather do.

Moving from cover, he closes in. The big gun's triple barrel's stutter and become a roar as they spin up to full speed. The enemy begin to fall in ones and two's.

Going down, party time My friends are gonna be there too.

He's grinning now. This is why he comes here. This is who he is. As he falls upon them, his battle cry causes all to fall briefly silent; "'moan then, ya fannies!!!!"

I'm on the highway to hell. On the Highway to hell.