In deep space, a Covenant Cruiser housing the Prophet of Regret, and of course countless other Covenant soldiers, came out of slipspace with debris from New Mombasa and the UNSC frigate In Amber Clad coming out behind it.

Inside the bridge, Miranda Keyes jerked forward with a pained grunt. Immediately she turned to her crew, "Report!"

"Both engine cores have spun to zero," one helmsmen replied. "We're drifting."

"Archer pods are cold," another added, "I'll need to rekey the system."

"Do it and find out where we are. And someone get me my damn coffee!" Miranda pressed a button on her command chair's arm, "Sorry for the quick jump guys. Johnson, you and the Reds in one piece?"

"I'm good," Johnson replied with a manly grunt before sticking a cigar in his mouth. "Boys?"

"Oh yeah, we're just fine," Cortana answered. "Except Grif threw up in his helmet."

"It's really gross Sarge," Donut complained over the comms.

"I bet, but you're the only one with enough cleaning experience to get that puke smell out of Grif's helmet. Plus no other soldier can tolerate his ugly face for more than five minutes!"

"Was that last part really necessary? You've already gotten your daily insults towards me for the week!"

"But we jumped halfway across the universe! Who knows how far behind I could be now?"

"Men," Cortana snapped. "When you're done bickering, I'd just like to let you guys know: we arrived at a second Halo." Sarge, Johnson, Simmons, Grif, and Donut all snapped their heads towards the nearest monitor. Johnson coughed, choking on the smoke from his own cigar.

"Say WHAT?"

"Sweet jibbly jiblets," Sarge exclaimed. Grif's heaving sounds could be heard over the radio.

"Permission to freak out sir," Donut requested.

"Permission granted!" Donut's shrilled screams blared over the radios, but the Reds and Johnson could care less.

"This is such fucking bullshit," Simmons shouted in a rage. "It took us forever to destroy that last Halo, and now there's two of them!"

"Simmons, control your anger issue," Sarge snapped.

"God damn it: I DON'T HAVE AN ANGER CONTROL ISSUE! I JUST THINK THIS IS BULL SHI-," Miranda muted Simmons' radio, staring at the massive ring construct before her.

"So this is what my father found," she whispered. "I thought Halo was supposed to be some sort of super weapon."

"It is," Cortana replied with a solemn tone. "And if activated, that ring will unleash destruction on a galactic scale."

"Cortana, I want any and all information you got on the first Halo. I don't care if I have the clearance or not."

"Yes ma'am."

"Where's our target," Miranda questioned.

"The enemy ship has stopped above the ring, we're gonna pass right over it," an officer replied.

"Good. Given what we know about the ring, it's even more important we capture the Prophet of Regret. Find out why he came to Earth, why he came here. And seriously, someone: my fucking coffee! Sarge, Simmons, you take the first platoon; hard drop, secure the first landing zone. Johnson, you take Donut and Grif, load up two flights of Pelicans and follow them in."

"Aye, aye ma'am," Johnson replied. The door to his pod opened, and the Major Sergeant walked out, pounding his fist against Sarge's door.

"Until I can move and fight, I'm going to keep a low profile guys. Once you leave the ship, you're on your own."

"Understood ma'am," Sarge exclaimed, pounding on the edge of his pod in response to Johnson. "Simmons, you ready?"

"He's muted remember," Cortana reminded.

Sarge chuckled before looking up a bit, "I know. He's gonna throw a fit once we drop."

"Oh you're evil," Cortana replied with an obvious smile in her tone. A countdown appeared on Sarge's monitor. "Hold onto your helmet!" The pods dropped out of the bottom of the ship. The pods plummeted towards the ring, tearing through the atmosphere, building up the head inside. The parachutes opened up, causing the pods to jerk up a bit. "Mind the bump."

On Delta Halo, a Jackal walked along the shore calmly, minding its own business. Suddenly, it noticed the flaming pods falling from the sky and snarled angrily. A Grunt yelped in shock, also seeing the flaming pods before it jumped into a nearby Shade turret and began firing. Two more Shades opened fire upon the pods as they came crashing to the ground.

Sarge's pod hit the ground, causing the Red Spartan to grunt forcefully. He kicked the hatch off of his door and stepped out, scanning the nearby area with his shotgun. "Could we POSSIBLY make anymore noise," Cortana screamed. A Shade started firing upon the Spartan, causing him to duck in cover. A rocket soon whizzed by and destroyed the Shade. Sarge turned his head, seeing Simmons screaming in pure fury as he ran forward, firing his rocket launcher at the enemy. "I guess so," the AI said smugly.

"COME ON YOU ALIEN BASTARDS," Simmons shouted, reloading his rocket launcher. "You're all going to get Simmon-sized!"

"Did he just say Simmon-sized," Cortana questioned.

"Don't stop him now! He's becoming the maroon hulk!"

A pause. "He's going to die isn't he?"

"Probably," Sarge replied.

Another pause. "And what should you do as his commanding officer?" Sarge lowered his head and sighed.

"Alright, I'll go ahead and fight."

"Good boy." Sarge rushed forward, moving to back up Simmons.

Simmons blasted the last turret with his rocket launcher, having one last one rocket left. An Elite rushed forward, roaring and firing at the maroon Spartan. Simmons screamed, kicking the Elite in the stomach. The alien doubled over in pain. Simmons swung his rocket launcher upward with all his strength, bashing the barrel of it against the Elite's jaw. The alien was lifted off its feet, landing hard on its back. Simmons placed his boot against the alien's throat and fired his last rocket at the reinforcements coming out of the temple. The explosion destroyed the support pillars for the temple which caused the ancient structure to collapse in on itself, crushing the Covenant forces under piles of rubble. The Elite roared, grabbing Simmons' ankle and throwing him off. The alien got up, readying its plasma rifle to kill the maroon Spartan. Before it could fire, a shotgun blast went off through its chest, blowing its ribs out. The alien gurgled a mouthful of blood before it fell forward, right at Simmons' feet.

"You okay Maroon 1," Sarge asked.


"You were screaming too much, you didn't hear us," Cortana replied sarcastically. Simmons remained silent, putting his hand to the side of his helmet.

"That does sound like me…"

"Come on let's move," Sarge ordered. "Johnson, we need a hog down here, and I don't mean Grif."

"Roger that, hold that position until we get there."

"Can do," Sarge replied.

A few long moments passed. Simmons paced back and forth, still muttering angrily to himself. Sarge polished his shotgun as he sat on an Elite's back. A pair of ODSTs sat next to each other on the pile of rubble that use to be a Forerunner temple.

"Okay," one ODST began, "I spy something…that begins with a-,"

"Dirt," the second one replied.

"Damn it! How'd you-,"

"Well because you did rock last time, and that's all that's out here is rock and dirt." The ODST remained silent before looking back out into the ocean.

"You're right. This game sucks."

"My turn. I spy something that begins with a…W."

"A 'W?' What the fuck?"

"Water genius." The ODST pointed out to the vast ocean before them.


"Eyes up," Sarge exclaimed. "Johnson's bringing in the hog!" A pair of Pelicans dropped down, hovering above the ground before each released a Warthog in front of the Spartans and ODSTs. Out of one of the Pelicans came Grif and Donut.

"Men," Sarge began, a speech building behind his voice, "An army of marauding, ruthless, and super-powerful aliens of all different shapes and sizes with a vast and ultra strong artillery stands between us and the Prophet of Regret." Sarge cocked his shotgun before moving towards the nearest Warthog. As soon as the Red commander sat down he turned to his men, "Let's get to work!"

Donut, Grif, and Simmons all stood side by side in silence. Sarge's speech obviously didn't do anything to boost their morale. "Sir, as appealing as your plan sounds," Grif began, "We have no idea where the Prophet is."

"I got a good view coming in," Johnson intervened over the radio. "There's a big building in the middle of this island's lake."

"I saw it too," Cortana replied. "It looks like a temple. If I were a megalomaniac—and I'm not—that's where I'd be."

"Right, you're totally not an egotistical bitch," Simmons murmured.

"Simmons," Sarge growled. The maroon soldier muttered under his breath and walked over to the turret of the second Warthog. "Grif, saddle up in the other Warthog!"

"I still say this damn thing looks more like a puma," Grif replied as he made his way to the vehicle.

"Why are you bringing this up now," Simmons questioned.

"I'm just saying. In this light it seriously looks like a puma."

"Grif, we'll settle this bet later with a good ass-whooping after we kill the Prophet. Until then: we've still got a Prophet to kill!"

"Really," Grif asked sarcastically. "I had no fucking clue sir." Donut got in the shotgun seat of Grif's Warthog while the two ODSTs piled into Sarge's.

"Move out," Sarge barked as he floored on ahead.

The squad got to a large temple structure which rested on the end of a canyon. On the other side of the canyon were a pair of Wraiths which started launching bombs. Sarge violently spun his Warthog around to the entrance of the temple and got out along with the pair of marines.

"What the hell is he doing," Grif asked.

"How the fuck should I know," Simmons snapped.

"There are controls for the bridge inside this temple," Cortana answered. "Sarge and I are going in to extend the bridge."

"Uh…I don't think that's the best of ideas," Donut murmured as he looked across the canyon. Standing in front of the two Wraiths were nearly a hundred Covenant soldiers lined up in rank.

Grunts with giant plasma coils strapped to their backs were in front, followed by regular armed Grunts, and then Grunts with fuel rod cannons. Behind the Grunts were Jackals, all of which activated their shields. Behind them were Elites upon Elites, all lead by Zealot. The golden Elite activated a sword and unleashed a roar that echoed over the canyon.

A loud noise was heard and the bridge slowly started to slide down from the temple. "What'd ya say Donut," Sarge asked over the radio.

"Son of a bitch," Grif muttered.

"We're gonna die," Donut shrieked.

The Covenant forces sat foot on the bridge and marched forward. The Grunts fired around the temple in hopes of hitting the three Red morons. Grif, Simmons, and Donut screamed as they flew around in the Warthog, shifting between plasma fire and fuel rod blasts. The Zealot moved behind the infantry, roaring motivational and threatening rants to move the soldiers forward.

"I'm totally freaking out," Donut screamed.

"Sarge do something," Simmons yelled over the comms.

As the Covenant started closing in, there was a thunderous sound that caused the Covenant to stop in their tracks. Everything froze until the bridge started pulling forward. The Covenant screamed, roared, and chattered as they now sprinted towards land as the bridge was once again being pulled up in front of the temple. Many of the Covenant forces just jumped off the ledge to get it over with, but others futilely tried to get to the other side of the bridge.

"Simmons, fire at them," Grif shouted.

"Oh right!" The maroon Spartan began unloading shells from the Warthog's turret, mowing down the closer Covenant soldiers. "Yeah, suck it bitches! Get some! Come on!"

The bridge finally stopped once fully pulled back up the side of the temple and countless Covenant soldiers fell to their deaths. After a few seconds, the bridge started to move back out across the canyon. The Reds looked over, seeing their leader walking around the corner with a confident stride.

"Hehe, had ya scared didn't I?"

"Sarge, how the hell did you do that," Grif questioned.

"It's the old 'pull-the-carpet-out-from-under-em' tactic! Although that maneuver I just pulled was a little more literal than the actual tactic. Still worked nonetheless. Simmons, how will killing that many Covenant troops at once look on my resume?"

"Actually, really good sir. You might actually get promoted. Which means I could become leader of the Red Team!"

"Uh, Simmons, you sure you wanna be in charge of me and Donut?"

"Awe man, that means we'd get a new rookie on the team! Man that'll be great. We can be all like, 'screw off noob,' or, 'go get my hand lotion noob!' Having a new guy is gonna be great!"

"Yeah, I can hardly handle one idiot rookie, I don't wanna try two," Simmons replied to Grif.

"Keep movin men," Sarge barked. "We've got a Prophet to brutally slaughter!"

"Uh, sir, there's no room for you in here," Grif replied. "Are you gonna walk or something?"

"Nope. Simmons, get out of the vehicle!"

"You're making me walk?"

"Just get out of the vehicle!" The maroon soldier murmured angrily as he got out and walked towards Sarge. "As some of you may or may not know, Simmons use to be a member of a marine strike team that was in charge of boarding and capturing a Covenant cruiser. Obviously, the mission was a complete failure! Everyone on the mission was killed before the seemingly limitless Covenant numbers!"

"Wait, I don't remember any of this," Simmons replied.

"Of course not! You've repressed so much I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't even remember your tenth birthday!"

"I totally remember…wait…I think I…weren't you there Grif?"

"What, dude, we met on the Pillar of Autumn before we went to Halo!"

"Nu-uh, that was Sarge!"

"Simmons you've been in the same unit with Sarge for years now!"

"Naturally repressing the events of his own death, and some UNSC memory recalibrating, Simmons knew not what truly happened. There were no remains of the other marines in Simmons' squad, but all that was left of our fellow maroon second here was a torso, half an arm, two-thirds of his head, a pinkie, one-sixteenth of his left testicle-,"

"What the hell?"

Sarge continued through Simmons' outburst, "and one of his big toes. The UNSC, for whatever reason, wanted Simmons to come back. Whether it was so they could have someone to kiss their ass, or to put someone else moderately competent on this team I DON'T KNOW!"

"But Simmons still is a whole person," Donut replied. "If what you're saying is true then how come Simmons has all his limbs?"

"You ever seen the Six Million Dollar Man?"

"What the," Simmons sputtered. "B-but to make me into a person from less than one-tenth of my natural body would cost billions and billions of dollars! The UNSC wouldn't waste that type of money on one person!"

"Not if they used doctors and surgeons. The UNSC went for a patriot, someone who would undergo such a rigorous, time-consuming process for next to nothing!"

"Oh lord," Grif murmured.

"Simmons…I am your father!"


Sarge smacked Simmons in the side of the head, "No ya idiot! I just brought you back to life! I used all sorts of mechanical parts to rebuild you. I couldn't use any super advanced mechanical parts though, so I used what I could get. Parts from destroyed vehicles, wreckage from a few UNSC frigates, and the fax machine."

"So, he's like Frankenstein?"

"No Donut, he's Simmons 2.0! I installed some nifty features into him too. Watch this. Simmons 2.0: motorcycle mode!" An electronic whirling was heard and Simmons straightened up as stiff as a board. Grif and Donut looked at each other then back at Simmons.

"Roger sir." Simmons got on his hands and feet, like a crouching predator ready to pounce. Like something out of a Michael Bay film, mechanical parts, gears and all sorts of different contraptions started coming out of Simmons' body. Grif and Donut leaned forward with shock before whipping their heads to each other and then back at the fully transformed Simmons. Sarge chuckled as he sat in the seat of his Simmons-Mongoose.

"See, ain't that cool?"

"Sir, why did you only bring this up now," Grif asked.

"I never had a good time to bring it up in conversation soldier!" Sarge grabbed the handles of his Simmons-goose and revved the engine loudly. "Head em up and move em out!" The Red Team flew off down the road, towards their intended target.

In a Forerunner temple, several Elite Honor Guards walked around, securing the area in case any human pigs tried to enter the sacred place. The Prophet of Regret sat in his floating throne, observing his followers carefully. One Elite approached the Prophet and kneeled before him.

"Noble Prophet of Regret: we have confirmed that the Demons are here, all four of them." The Prophet turned his throne to the Elite and pressed a button on the arm of the floating device. A power pair of beams blasted the Elite, vaporizing it into dust.

"I want the Demons dead! Do you hear me? I want their heads in a pile at my feet so I can play croquet! I want to play marbles with their eyes! I want their brains to fry on my skillet so I can cook them like raw hamburger! Do you understand me?"

One Elite leaned to another, "By the ancients, he has some problems." The whispering Elite was vaporized in an instant, causing the second one to look at the Prophet fearfully.

"KILL THE DEMONS YOU IDIOTS!" All the Elites rushed out of the room, leaving the Prophet in silence.

"Off the rock," Sarge yelled, hurling a rock at an Honor Guard in a separate temple. The rock smashed the Guard's skull, causing it to roar in agony as it fell to the ground, blood spurting from its head. "Through the bush…" Sarge ducked and rushed under plasma and bullet fire from his team and the remaining forests. The Red commander dove forward, grabbing a rocket launcher as he rolled over into a crouched position, having a perfect shot at the Covenant forces hiding behind a fallen pillar. The Covenant looked over at Sarge with panicked expressions. "Nothin but Jackal!" Sarge fired the rocket, blowing a handful of Covenant forces into massive, bloody chunks.

Sarge sighed lightly, tossing the rocket launcher over his shoulder. The other Reds got out of cover and followed Sarge towards the front of the temple. As they passed a hologram of the Prophet of Regret, something caught Cortana's virtual ear.

"Wait, go back!" Sarge placed his hand on the holo-projector and Cortana's avatar popped up. "That's what I thought he said." Cortana turned to the Reds, "The Prophet of Regret is planning to activate Halo."

"What the," Simmons exclaimed.

"You're sure," Sarge asked. Cortana snapped her fingers, translation Regret's words into English.

"I shall light this Holy Ring, release its cleansing flames, and burn a path into the divine beyond!" Cortana snapped her fingers again, freezing Regret's hologram.

"Pretty much," Cortana replied smugly.

"In Amber Clad, we've got a problem," Sarge stated.

"So I heard," Miranda's voice came through. "But from what I understand the Prophet will need an object, the Index, to activate the ring. I've located a library similar to the one you found on the first Halo."

"We don't have to go back do we," Grif asked. "Last time we did was horrible. Sarge did nothing while reading Twilight! I vowed never to go back to any library ever again."

"Did you ever go to a library before," Simmons angrily snapped.

"Well no, but now I'll definitely never go to one ever again."

"Johnson and I will take a team to get the Index. You four just worry about taking out the Prophet. He's given us all the intel we need…"

"Yes ma'am," Sarge replied, placing his hand through Cortana's avatar. "We could fly over there in a Pelican if you've got one to spare ma'am."

"You got it Sarge. I'm sending one over now, but Regret has a lot of air-traffic around all of the temples. Getting to them may be a bit of a hassle. It could be easier to just to go on foot."

"Easy-smeezy, we're flyin this mission! Simmons 2.0: flight mode!" The electronic whirling sound began again, and Simmons was now in full robot mode. The maroon cyborg began to transform again, this time into a small aircraft only seated for one.

"Grif, get inside Simmons and start clearing the skies!"

"Awe man, you're so lucky Grif," Donut whined.

"Uh…why me sir? You have more experience with uh…Simmons 2.0."

"Because I can't fly this thing! Why do you think I agreed to have you in this squad? It's because you're the resident driver and/or pilot of the team! You know how to fly most aircrafts, so get inside Simmons and do your business."

"…I'm getting sweaty," Grif whimpered as he entered Simmons' cockpit. As soon as the hatch closed, an annoying pop song started playing. "How the hell do you turn off the fucking radio in this thing?"

"Bring him back in one piece," Sarge shouted. "Come on Donut, let's get to that Pelican!" The two remaining Reds rushed towards the nearest landing zone, seeing the bird as nothing more than a dot in the distance.

"Whoa, we're really high up," Grif stated with a high pitched tone.

"Warning," Simmons' robotic voice spoke, emphasizing every syllable, "Covenant Banshees coming in."

"Oh shit, what do I do?"

"Try shooting, cockbite."

"Oh, right." Grif spun Simmons 2.0 around, seeing a fleet of a dozen Banshees coming towards them. The orange Spartan started firing the machine guns, tearing through the first unfortunate Banshee in seconds. "Holy shit, that was awesome! What other weapons do you have?"


"How do I fire those?"

"Hit the button that says 'missiles' dumbass." Grif looked up, seeing a red button that read 'missiles.'

"Oh, cool." Grif hit the button, firing a barrage of missiles, blowing three Banshees to pieces. "Holy crap! I like Simmons 2.0 better than regular Simmons!"

"Fuck you."

Grif fired the machine gun, drifting to the side as a Banshee rushed towards him. He managed to take out one of the wings on the aircraft, causing it to spiral out of control and explode.

"Grif, we're in the Pelican," Sarge snapped, "We're taking a pounding from the Banshees! Take em out with Simmons' secret weapon!"

"Secret weapon," Grif repeated. The Spartan looked around before finally noticing a button that read 'super secret laser weapon.' Grif pressed down on the button. Simmons started shifting his outer shape a bit. A large cannon formed at the nose of the Simmons-craft. "Hey Sarge, I'mma firin ma laser!" Grif pressed the fire button, unleashing a devastating laser blast that eradicated five Banshees in one hit. The only remaining Banshee spun around quickly and crashed itself into the nearest wall. "Hell yeah, that was so cool! You only wish you were that awesome!"

"…Grif…did you just say you were firin ur laser?"

"Uh…yes sir. I was just caught up in the moment." There was a prolonged silence before Sarge eventually sighed.

"My respect for you has hit an all time low…"

"Don't worry Grif, I thought it was clever."

"Whatever Donut," the orange Spartan murmured. "Let's just go die trying to kill this Prophet already."

"That's the spirit! Hey, who wants to sing ninety nine bottles of bear on the wall?"

Grif sighed, shaking his head as he flew alongside the Pelican, "This is gonna be a long fucking flight…"

The Prophet murmured to himself, in a meditative like trance. One Grunt walked in, trembling fiercely as he approached the Prophet.

"Excuse me your lordship but-," In a flash, the Grunt was missing his head, melted away by an overcharged plasma pistol. The Prophet of Regret placed the pistol back in his lap before turning towards the entrance of the temple.

"Release the Jackals." An Honor Guard walked in with a pair of rabid, snarling and drooling Jackals. The Elite barked fiercely, pulling on the Jackals' leashes. "Clean up this mess." The Elite nodded then released the Jackals and allowed them to run up and start snacking on the Grunt's headless corpse. "You wouldn't know what this poor soul was going to tell me do you?"

"No, no idea whatsoever. I wouldn't have any idea as to why this Grunt would enter your chambers." The Prophet narrowed his bug-like eyes.

"It wouldn't have to do with him delivering bad news would it?"

"Nope, not at all your holiness. I have no idea why there would be any bad news to report. Things are running swimmingly. No Demons approaching in airships or anything like that." The Prophet's eyes narrowed even further. The Jackals finished eating the Grunt's remains before looking up at the Prophet.

"The demons are on their way here?" The Elite shifted nervously.

"N-nooo…" The Jackals looked over at the Elite then back at the Prophet.

The Prophet intertwined his hands together and narrowed his eyes even more. Leaning forward as he glared at the sweating Elite, the Prophet could tell he was lying. "Jackals," the Prophet threw his hand towards the Elite, "desert time." The pair of feral bird-like aliens looked at each other then scrambled towards the Elite.

The Prophet turned around slowly, huffing angrily. "Prepare the Guards! The Demons approach, and I'll be ready for them!" The Jackals looked up at the Prophet. One belched before they both went back to eating the Elite's corpse.

The Reds flew over the enormous lake, heading towards the coordinates where the Prophet of Regret was hiding out at. Sarge fired the turret out of the rear of the Pelican, taking out any Banshees that tried to flank them. Grif was taking on the majority of the Banshees that came from the front, since he had fully mobility unlike the bulky and massive Pelican. Donut sat in the co-pilot's seat, firing the chain gun in the front to help Grif take out the Banshees.

"Now this is interesting," Cortana murmured. "I just hacked into the Covenant's wi-fi and I got into Regret's email. Apparently he jumped the gun when he attacked Earth. He sent a formal apology to the other hierarchs in the Covenant, the Prophets of Truth and Mercy, and pleaded for their forgiveness. Judging from Truth's reply, I don't think Regret will be getting that anytime soon."

"Could you put that in a memo and entitle it 'SHIT FOR ANOTHER TIME?' I'm kinda busy Cortana!"

"Remember whose inside your head Sergeant," Cortana stated. "I could give you a searing migraine right now."

"And we could all die, including you."


"PHANTOMS," Grif shouted. A small blast shook the Pelican, almost throwing Sarge out of the bird. The familiar, feminine shriek of Donut came from the cockpit.

"Sarge, the pilot is dead!"

"What else is new," Sarge murmured. "Hold on Donut!" Sarge gunned down one last Banshee before running towards the cockpit.

The glass was blown out from the Phantom's turret, and the pilot's corpse was all but vaporized. Sarge grabbed the body and pitched it to the floor and sat in the bloodied seat. Sarge jerked the Pelican to the side, letting three Banshees from behind crash into the Phantom. The Covenant drop ship flickered, a few fires erupting from around the exterior.

Grif flew over Sarge's Pelican and fired a few missiles that took out the drop ship. Sarge looked forward, still seeing a large fleet of Banshees and Phantoms hovering around the temple.

"Sweet crispy cream," Sarge exclaimed. "Grif, Donut, open fire!"

Said Spartans fired a barrage of missiles forward before pulling up. The missiles took out a large number of Banshees, damaged a couple of Phantoms, and destroyed a few turrets set up around the base of the temple.

An Honor Guard on the ground, in charge of the defense of the holy temple, roared at a few soldiers that just came out. A large group of Grunts carried out a few more turrets and quickly set them up. Jackals with shields and plasma pistols crouched, holding their shields up to the sky and hissing angrily. As the turrets were set up, they were quickly occupied by Grunts. The other remaining Grunts pulled out fuel rod guns and started firing.

The Pelican began firing its turret, tearing through Banshees and pounding on the hulls of Phantoms. Grif strafed to the side, firing his turret nonstop. "This really sucks," Grif shouted.

"Tell me about it," Donut replied. "Sarge can't fly the Pelican!"

"And this stupid Simmons 2.0 is out of missiles!"

"It's not my fault you can't use Simmons 2.0 to its fullest extent! Get to the Pelican so we can switch!" A Banshee hit Simmons 2.0 in the rear, causing it to spin out of control. Grif screamed as he started to crash towards the Pelican.

Sarge jumped out of the cockpit as Grif jumped on the hull of the Pelican. The Red leader swan dived towards his crashing, cyborg, second-in-command, "Simmons 2.0, submersible mode!"

"Roger." Sarge grabbed the crashing aircraft just as they both hit the water with a splash.

Grif got into the pilot's seat, taking control of the Pelican quickly, "Grif, I think Sarge is dead! And Simmons too!"

"We're about to join them Donut," Grif screamed, jerking the Pelican to the side to avoid an onslaught of plasma fire. "Fire back at them!" Donut held down the fire button, tearing through Banshees and even punching through the hull of a Phantom.

A trio of Phantoms moved towards the side of the Pelican, bombarding it with plasma blasts. Suddenly, a laser tore through the bottom of the lead Phantom. Grif and Donut watched as the drop ship plummeted to the ground in a flaming heap. On the water's surface, the Spartans saw a robotic dolphin cruising along like a speed boat.

"What the hell is that thing," Grif asked.

"It's Sarge! See, I told Simmons he'd make such a pretty mermaid!"

"That was me Donut—you know what: fuck it. Simmons is a pretty little mermaid."

"Keep firin ya idiots," Sarge boomed over the comms. "You can't let up for even a minute!"

"Roger that sir," Donut replied.

Inside the Forerunner temple, the Prophet of Regret, with two nervous Honor Guards at his side, stared at the ceiling angrily. He could hear the sound of explosions and gunfire going on outside, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Tell me boys, how many ships do I have outside?"

"You have an entire fleet of Banshees and Phantoms," one Honor Guard boldly replied.

"And how many Demons are there…?"



"Well if they couldn't cause trouble they wouldn't be Demons your holiness."

The silent Honor Guard and the Prophet looked over at the outspoken Elite. The Prophet looked at the Honor Guard then nodded. The Elite brutally and forcefully stabbed his energy sword through his comrade's stomach, causing him to roar out in pain. The Honor Guard pulled the sword out and let the dead body fall to the ground. Better to betray his friend then suffer a Prophet's wrath. They're on top for a reason.

"Kill the Demons! I don't care how you do it, just kill them!"

Grif and Donut cheered in victory as one of the last Phantoms crashed into the ocean. The Covenant on the temple continued to fire at the Pelican, trying desperately to finish them off. The mechanical clicker of Simmons-dolphin was heard before the cyborg shot up into the air. The Covenant ground troops then focused their fire on the maroon dolphin.

"Simmons, gun mode!" The dolphin started to shrink and transform simultaneously, revealing Sarge flying through the air. Finally, Simmons 2.0 settled into the form of a large pistol in Sarge's hand. "Uncle Megatron be proud!"

Sarge began firing a massive energy blast down upon the Covenant. The rounds that were fired were slightly larger than concussive blasts, and twice as devastating. Sarge continued to fall towards the ground, firing at the Covenant forces. One Grunt with a fuel rod ran up and aimed at the sky.

"Fire in the hole!" The tiny alien fired a blast upward.

"Shield mode," Sarge shouted. Simmons converted into a massive shield. Sarge moved Simmons out in front of him, taking the full force of the blast. The Red commander spun around, holding Simmons high above his head. "Big sword mode!" Simmons once again transformed just as Sarge swung downward. The Grunt raised the fuel rod to try and shield itself, but the weapon was sliced through like butter.

An Elite charged forward, activating an energy sword. Sarge swung his Simmons-blade, knocking the Elite's attack to the side in one swing, and then cleaving its head off in another. Sarge spun around, turning Simmons into a shield again as he blocked a series of plasma blasts. A Grunt jumped on his back, shouting and sputtering angrily. Sarge tried to wrestle the tiny alien off his back, but to no avail. Finally, the Red Spartan activated his jetpack, flying up into the air. The Grunt cried and screamed in fear. Sarge turned his jetpack off and started falling towards the temple again, with the Grunt positioned to break his fall.

"OH SHI-," the Grunt's final word was cut off by the sickening splat noise from being crushed by Sarge's bodyweight.

Sarge rolled forward, punching a Jackal across the face and then throwing an uppercut that launched the bird off its feet. Sarge grabbed the Jackal's foot before it hit the ground, spun around twice and then hurled it at an Elite standing towards the ledge of the temple. The Jackal hit the Elite in the chest, throwing both aliens off the ledge and to their watery grave.

Sarge looked up, seeing an Elite with an energy sword pulled back and about ready to stab him. The Red Spartan stepped quickly to the side as the alien thrusted its sword forward, "Stab—oh god da-," Sarge held his Megatron-Simmons-pistol out and blasted the Elite's head off.

Sarge placed a hand on his hip and lowered his Simmons-pistol to his side. The Red commander took in the devastation and corpses around him. Sarge huffed quietly then tossed Simmons in the air.

"Default setting." The pistol suddenly expanded and transformed into a maroon Spartan. Simmons landed on his feet, but stumbled around like a drunken fool.

"Wh-whoa. Wh-what happened…?"

"We're at the temple, and the Prophet is inside," Sarge stated. "I'm gonna need every man, cyborg, feminine weirdo, and Grif I can get to help take him down."

"Speaking of which, where are Grif and Donut?" Sarge looked up and pointed to the sky. Simmons turned around, following Sarge's finger. "Oh…"

Grif and Donut screamed as their Pelican was out of control, smashing through a heavily damaged Phantom. The Pelican was now beaten to hell, on fire, covered in fire, and crashing towards the temple.


"Yes sir…?"

"Move." Sarge and Simmons turned and ran towards the entrance of the temple, screaming in fear as the Pelican came crashing down on them. Grif and Donut dove out of the cockpit and onto the temple grounds while the Pelican fell to the ocean in a smoking heap.

"Grif, what the hell did you do to our ship," Sarge shouted.

"It's…" Grif panted heavily, trying to steady his nerves to get onto his feet, "It's a rental…"

"Yeah, but how're we gonna get off this damn temple jackass," Simmons shouted.


"Uh…guys," Donut murmured. The Reds looked over at the pink Spartan who was staring at the sky. "L-look…" Donut's trembling arm moved up to the sky. The Reds looked up, seeing hundreds of Covenant ships jumping out of slip-space, high above Halo's atmosphere.

"That's the largest Covenant fleet I've seen," Cortana murmured. "The largest anyone's ever seen…" Just then, another object came out of slip-space. It was larger than any cruiser or carrier, and sort of looked like an ice-cream cone. "Get inside, kill Regret before it has a chance to stop us!" The Reds wasted no time and rushed into the temple.

The Prophet of Regret frowned, waiting for the doors to open and the Demons to enter. Around the Prophet were countless Honor Guards, all ready to give their lives for their master. Or to die if Regret is angry enough.

"Yoo-hoo," a heavily accented voice called out. All eyes snapped forward, seeing a Red Spartan walk through the doors. "You must be the Prophet of Ugliness. No wait, that's your mother. Sorry."

"You filthy vermin! You dare desecrate this sacred place and insult my mother!"

"Am I wrong?"

"YES! My mother was the Prophet of Bitchiness! You're a fool for coming to this place Demon! I outnumber you, and your other cowering vermin allies! You cannot win!" Suddenly, two grunts were heard, followed by the two Honor Guards standing by Regret's side being tackled and roaring in shock.

Grif stabbed the Elite in the neck, just below the jaw. Simmons blasted his alien in the head with a pistol. Both Spartans moved to attack the Prophet.

"FOOLS!" Regret slammed his hands on the arms of his throne, unleashing a plasma pulse that sent Grif and Simmons flying. Regret spun around, realizing all his Honor Guards were dead. "How did you-,"

"Private Donut," Sarge proudly stated, "he's the sneakiest soldier ever. He could sneak up anyone's rear. There's no backdoor he can get through. He'd make a fine rear admiral. He-,"

"I get it already. I'll kill you fools myself!"

"Donut, now!" Regret looked up, seeing a pink Spartan falling from the sky.

"Sneak attack!" Donut threw two plasma grenades down at the Prophet. Regret once again used his plasma pulse that caused the grenades to explode instantly. Donut crossed his arms over his face to shield himself from the blast residue. Once through the smoke, the pink Spartan latched onto Regret's throne.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Regret started flying away in an attempt to shake Donut off his high-horse. Donut threw a punch, socking Regret across the jaw. The Prophet cried out before backhanding Donut with enough force to knock out a bull. The pink Spartan was thrown back, screaming before he smacked into the back wall. "You damned filthy pigs! You dare to lay even a single hand on me?"

Suddenly, Sarge rushed forward, screaming as he leapt upward, grabbing the cannon on Regret's chair. The Prophet flew up, spinning around and around in an attempt to try and throw the sergeant off.

"Grif, Simmons, you need to destroy this chair!"

"What the," Simmons murmured as he scraped himself off the ground.

"H-how the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"Simmons, laser cannon-chest!"

"Sir, what're you talking about?" Little did Simmons realize that his chest started to part, opening up to reveal a giant cannon. On his back came out two handles, each with a trigger to fire.

"I got this," Grif shouted, grabbing Simmons' back-handles.

"H-hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Firin ma laser!" Grif pressed down on both triggers, unleashing a devastating blast towards the Prophet of Regret.

The wrinkled alien jerked to the side and pulled up. The laser narrowly missed Sarge, who was still clinging for dear life. "Hit the alien numb-nuts! NOT ME!"

"Simmons 2.0 keeps moving too much," Grif shouted.

"How'd this laser get in my chest?"

Grif fired the laser again, this time skimming Regret's chair. The blast caused the floating throne to spin out of control, crashing towards the ground. Sarge let go and rolled just as he hit the ground. Regret screamed angrily and jumped out as well just before the throne crashed and went off in an enormous explosion.

"Sarge," Cortana said in a warning tone, "Phantoms are inbound, too many for me to track. We don't have anymore time!"

"You damned dirty demons," Regret thundered. "Do you have any idea how much that throne costs?"

"I dunno, five…five, maybe ten dollars," Grif asked. "Who the fuck cares, you're done for dude."

In the blink of an eye, Regret spun around, throwing a plasma grenade at Simmons and Grif. The duo cried out and dove to the side as the grenade went off between them. The two Spartans flew apart and crashed into the pillars.

Regret turned back to Sarge, who was now a foot away with his fist cocked back. Regret ducked under the punch and threw Sarge over his shoulder and onto the ground. Sarge grunted as he nearly broke the floor. The Spartan quickly got back up and threw a kick at Regret's neck. The lanky alien blocked and threw a punch at Sarge. The Spartan knocked the blow to the side and poked one of Regret's eyes.

"Ah, damn it!" Sarge punched Regret across the face twice before delivering a straight which knocked the Prophet on his back.

Regret roared as he pulled out a plasma pistol, already fully charged, and then fired. Sarge jerked his upper body back, narrowly avoiding the plasma blast. Regret got up to his feet, bashing the pistol over Sarge's helmet. Though the blow knocked the Spartan on his hands and knees, it completely broke the pistol.

"Wait," Cortana murmured. "The Phantoms are pulling back now. Why in the world would they do that?"

Regret grabbed Sarge's neck with both hands and began squeezing down with surprising strength. Sarge gasped for air, much to the pleasure of Regret. Finally, the Red commander head-butted Regret, disorienting the alien into letting him go. Sarge got back up and threw a punch which Regret caught surprisingly easy. Regret roared as he spun around, pulling Sarge off his feet before he hurled him into the nearest wall. Chunks of rock broke off from the wall as Sarge hit the floor.

"Great Scott Pilgrim's ghost, how is this alien so tough?"

"There's a reason the Prophets are in charge of the Covenant," Regret boasted. "Sure we have advanced technology and a better understanding of the Forerunners, but what's to stop the Elites from just killing us and taking all that?"

"Why can't anything ever be easy," Sarge groaned as he rose to his feet. "Like insulting Gif. Or coming up with new ways to make Grif suffer horrible pain. Like Grifball. Those were all easy."

"Get ready to die Demons!" Suddenly, a firm hand grasped Regret's long neck. The alien was spun around, facing a pink Spartan who immediately started to punch him in the face.

Donut screamed with every punch, exerting more and more force behind each blow. Simmons and Grif only watched in awe as Donut violently pounded Regret's face in. Sarge's jaw hit the bottom of his helmet as Donut savagely beat Regret into a bloody pulp. Finally, after a few moments of nonstop punching, Donut released the heavily beaten Regret, letting his limp form hit the ground.

"You scuffed my lightish red armor you son of a bitch!"

"Whoa Donut," Grif shouted.

"What the hell," Simmons added.

"Do you guys see that? He scuffed my armor!"

"Guy gentlemen," Cortana said over all their comms, "And I use that term loosely, we need to get out of here. Right now! There's a Covenant cruiser outside the temple and they're going to destroy this whole place just to get rid of us!"

"Sweet double-O-hio, BOOK IT!" The Reds ran towards the exit at full speed.

Regret groaned as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. Looking up, he saw the Demons running away, "That's right you…filthy pigs…run before the might of Regret…" Suddenly, a series of tentacles wrapped around the Prophet. Regret looked at the limbs constricting around him before snapping his head back up. "Oh son of a-," Regret was forcefully yanked back, letting out a terrified shriek of terror as he was pulled into the darkness.

Sarge charged outside first, stopping for a brief moment to look up. Sure enough: a Covenant cruiser was charging its main cannon. The Reds continued to run along the side of the temple just as the cruiser fired. They continued running down a walkway before they had to jump to a lower level. Without hesitation, they all jumped and landed, losing only a second before they moved forward. The beam was catching up to them, but the ledge was a stone's throw away.

"We're not gonna make it," Grif shouted. Sarge quickly booted Grif forward, causing the orange Spartan to stumble forward and off the ledge. Simmons jumped first, screaming the whole way down. Donut jumped off and pulled his legs up to his body to perform a cannonball. Sarge simply dove off, spinning around once before he hit the water.

The Spartans were unconscious, drifting downward into the ocean. Soon, a group of tentacles came out of the depths of the ocean floor, gently wrapping around the Spartans' bodies.

"This is not your grave…" A voice spoke lowly, followed by a strange snarl. "But you are welcome in it…" The tentacles started to gently pull the Spartans further into the ocean, towards the creature's lair, where their fate would be decided.

So…let me first start by apologizing. Things kind of sucked these last couple of months. Finals were a bitch, and studying for them was oh-so time consuming. I know finals aren't two months long, but there was some other shit mixed in with it. I'm sorry for not updating sooner, but now there's good old Christmas break. Hopefully I can get another chapter off before I have to go back to school for you guys, but do remember I have like four or five other stories. Again, I'm so sorry for not updating sooner, but don't think I've abandoned this story. I would never do that without legitimate reasons. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it wasn't rushed. Twenty two pages long, but I've had longer chapters feel rushed.

Leave a review please =)