project003
Well-Known Member
ACC: each month i post 1 chapter of my fanfic, which i hope one day i could be able to publish my work, if you would like to join (this is where the RP comes into play) PM me and I can find a spot to squeeze you in 
also, spelling isn't a BIG issue, this IS a rough draft, but you can understand the words so don't make it a big deal, (you perfectionist pigs) so without further to do, I proudly present:
Darkness, that's all he could see. his brain sloshed around in his skull like a half empty soda bottle, slowly fizzing into conciuosness. he began to remember, "Space lab... 0651" his throat gurgled to life as if he had never used it before. the position of his body was coressing the grated steel plating of the floor. He began to paint a picture of his surroundings by the ever-so-often beam of red light washing the hallway he had awoken in. his feeling began to come back to his body; and so did his stomach. his body had blended in with the darkness, only the hazard lights knew where he was positioned. then, he had realized that he didn't remember everything, not even his name. he tried to gasp for help but he was still too weak. after an awkward what seemed like half an hour, he managed to regain his composure and his stomach. slowly he began to evolve his stance, from a curled up ball of bulky muscle, to his hands and knees. finally he was able to stagger his way up on his feet, a sudden rush of blood to his head disagreed with his digestive system, but he pressed on through the vomiting. he was gripping a gaurdrail to keep himself upright. even through all the pain, not a single scratch was visable on his chisled body, he then realized that he was wearing some kind of detailed black pressure suit; the kind that a special Human warrior would wear underneith an exoskeleton of Thor's hammer. he hobbled over to the end of the hallway, only to find that cries for "help" would be a controdiction. mangled human bodies littered the vast room he had entered, some missing limbs, others dead wit hthe expression of fear tatoo'd on their faces. the smell of copper poisined the air. yet he remained calm in this hellish atmosphere, after all, he never "really" knew these people. the room was lit by blue computer terminals and screens, each one drowning out the red light from emergency lights, and the color of blood. although, one screen stuck out from all the rest, it was best discribed as the king of all the monitors that dwarfed in it's presance. by this time, he was standing without having the aid of the rail to keep him there, he moved freely throughout the room, searching for answers, who he was was the most important, he then wondered over to the "king" a message read there:
ENCRYPTION CODE: BLACK
PUBLIC KEY: FILE/CONSTRUCT
FROM: CODE NAME ENDGAME
TO: / COLONEL AKERSON UNSCMID: 096476661
SUBJECT: EMERGENCY ALERT STATUS
CLASSIFICATION: RESTRICTED (XXX-XD DIRECTIVE)
/START FILE/ DECRYPTION PROTOCAL/
FLASH TRANSMISSION TO PERSONAL COMPUTER OF COLONEL AKERSON
ENDGAME DIRECTED TO JAMES AKERSON-EYES ONLY
THE PROTEGE HAS AWAKEN
ATTENTION: EVACUATION PROTOCAL INITIATED.
ABANDON SHIP.
ABANDON SHIP.
a small chill went down his spine, "what if the experiment was still onboard?" his mind raced, yet, he did not panic, his senses became superhuman, his surroundings were in-tune with his mind. he then noticed a single yellow light winking at the corner of his eye, he turned slowly to find it was a recently unopened message, sent by whom? impossable to tell. he carefully walked over to the COMM station, and opened it. it was a text only message:
WE HAVE RECIEVED YOUR DISTRESS CALL PLEASE RESPOND.
THIS IS THE UNSC PROWLER: SHINOBI, WE DEMAND A SITREP ASAP.
a glimmer of hope shone through this bloodfest. a rescue team. but there was only one thing to write back.
///: HELLO?
a strong response was given.
PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF, AWAY-TEAMS ARE PREPPED FOR THEIR ARIVAL.
this time, the thought had struck him like a hot knife through his brain, no matter how hard he tried to recollect, his name was no where to be found in his mountain of knowlege he had regained in the last hour. looking down at the terminal, however, was a stiching of a name over his left breast, could this be the answer? did it matter? it was the best clue he had, so he typed the name into the console:
///: PROJECT 003, OF SPACE LAB 0651. WHAT IS GOING ON?
a long and erie pause was all that responded for the next 10 minutes, until they answered:
PROJECT 003, HEAD TO AIRLOCK 12D SECTION 4 FOR EVACUATION.
something told Project that this was going to be one Hell of a day...
also, spelling isn't a BIG issue, this IS a rough draft, but you can understand the words so don't make it a big deal, (you perfectionist pigs) so without further to do, I proudly present:HALO:
SPARTANS NEVER DIE
SPARTANS NEVER DIE
PROLOGUE
IN THE BEGINNING...
IN THE BEGINNING...
Darkness, that's all he could see. his brain sloshed around in his skull like a half empty soda bottle, slowly fizzing into conciuosness. he began to remember, "Space lab... 0651" his throat gurgled to life as if he had never used it before. the position of his body was coressing the grated steel plating of the floor. He began to paint a picture of his surroundings by the ever-so-often beam of red light washing the hallway he had awoken in. his feeling began to come back to his body; and so did his stomach. his body had blended in with the darkness, only the hazard lights knew where he was positioned. then, he had realized that he didn't remember everything, not even his name. he tried to gasp for help but he was still too weak. after an awkward what seemed like half an hour, he managed to regain his composure and his stomach. slowly he began to evolve his stance, from a curled up ball of bulky muscle, to his hands and knees. finally he was able to stagger his way up on his feet, a sudden rush of blood to his head disagreed with his digestive system, but he pressed on through the vomiting. he was gripping a gaurdrail to keep himself upright. even through all the pain, not a single scratch was visable on his chisled body, he then realized that he was wearing some kind of detailed black pressure suit; the kind that a special Human warrior would wear underneith an exoskeleton of Thor's hammer. he hobbled over to the end of the hallway, only to find that cries for "help" would be a controdiction. mangled human bodies littered the vast room he had entered, some missing limbs, others dead wit hthe expression of fear tatoo'd on their faces. the smell of copper poisined the air. yet he remained calm in this hellish atmosphere, after all, he never "really" knew these people. the room was lit by blue computer terminals and screens, each one drowning out the red light from emergency lights, and the color of blood. although, one screen stuck out from all the rest, it was best discribed as the king of all the monitors that dwarfed in it's presance. by this time, he was standing without having the aid of the rail to keep him there, he moved freely throughout the room, searching for answers, who he was was the most important, he then wondered over to the "king" a message read there:
ENCRYPTION CODE: BLACK
PUBLIC KEY: FILE/CONSTRUCT
FROM: CODE NAME ENDGAME
TO: / COLONEL AKERSON UNSCMID: 096476661
SUBJECT: EMERGENCY ALERT STATUS
CLASSIFICATION: RESTRICTED (XXX-XD DIRECTIVE)
/START FILE/ DECRYPTION PROTOCAL/
FLASH TRANSMISSION TO PERSONAL COMPUTER OF COLONEL AKERSON
ENDGAME DIRECTED TO JAMES AKERSON-EYES ONLY
THE PROTEGE HAS AWAKEN
ATTENTION: EVACUATION PROTOCAL INITIATED.
ABANDON SHIP.
ABANDON SHIP.
a small chill went down his spine, "what if the experiment was still onboard?" his mind raced, yet, he did not panic, his senses became superhuman, his surroundings were in-tune with his mind. he then noticed a single yellow light winking at the corner of his eye, he turned slowly to find it was a recently unopened message, sent by whom? impossable to tell. he carefully walked over to the COMM station, and opened it. it was a text only message:
WE HAVE RECIEVED YOUR DISTRESS CALL PLEASE RESPOND.
THIS IS THE UNSC PROWLER: SHINOBI, WE DEMAND A SITREP ASAP.
a glimmer of hope shone through this bloodfest. a rescue team. but there was only one thing to write back.
///: HELLO?
a strong response was given.
PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF, AWAY-TEAMS ARE PREPPED FOR THEIR ARIVAL.
this time, the thought had struck him like a hot knife through his brain, no matter how hard he tried to recollect, his name was no where to be found in his mountain of knowlege he had regained in the last hour. looking down at the terminal, however, was a stiching of a name over his left breast, could this be the answer? did it matter? it was the best clue he had, so he typed the name into the console:
///: PROJECT 003, OF SPACE LAB 0651. WHAT IS GOING ON?
a long and erie pause was all that responded for the next 10 minutes, until they answered:
PROJECT 003, HEAD TO AIRLOCK 12D SECTION 4 FOR EVACUATION.
something told Project that this was going to be one Hell of a day...
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