As I was hanging out in the IP Skype room just chatting about Halo and such, I suddenly started to daydream and instantly began vomiting this into the chat. In my mind’s eye, it was the only way I could picture Master Chief going down… or is he? The Halo Universe has been an amazing source of inspiration to my creativity. It provides both something familiar and something totally alien, while the whole time sitting you right there in the pilot’s chair.
That brings me to my prompt for this thread: How would you like to see the Chief’s story end? How would you like it left open or have closure? By no means do you have to have the length of my brain vomit! A mere concept or two-bits of your mind would suffice! Take this opportunity to fabricate your own ideal ending!
> John, wearing shreds of armor and undersuit limps forward, holding the gnarled stub that used to be his right arm. Hanging from a chain in his left hand dangles a battered, empty holo-chip. Face shrouded in hard shadows, teeth clinched, still the Spartan limps forward. Before him a brilliant light show throws light in strange ways. It’s almost as if some parts were a black hole and some were supernova. John’s skin smokes as the beads of sweat dotting exposed flesh sizzle away. Mere feet from the anomaly, he stops. His body seems to ripple as space is distorted. John raises his face. It is difficult to do as he seems to have to fight time. After a full five seconds of gaining and losing ground, he manages to gaze upon the slipspace-suspended AI core.
>
> "Medicant Bias…"
>
> The Spartan struggles to speak. A trickle of blood drains from the corner of his mouth. Now that his face is exposed, you see a ragged cut starting from his left temple and swooping across his right eye down to his strong jaw.
>
> His hair shoes that at one point it had been close shaven, but now it is matted to his scalp, stubble bristling about his jaw.
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> "No…"
>
> The Spartan releases his amputated right arm. A makeshift tourniquet prevents the wound from draining life onto the cold, dead floor.
>
> He then holds his clenched fist up so that the battered holo-chip dangles mere inches before his pained face. A wave of emotions wash over him. His teeth bare as the muscles in his face struggle to control the wave of emotions.
>
> These things bring back memories of a time long ago.
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> A woman pats his back and kisses his forehead.
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> A man carries him on his shoulders, laughing gayly.
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> The weight of the world presses down on the Spartan’s shoulders. The world grows dizzy and he collapses to his knees
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> The chip sways gently back and forth.
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> A woman tells him that he is the only hope for mankind.
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> Empty caskets disappear into space.
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> Cortana places her hand on his chest.
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> "You are not Mendicant Bias."
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> The lights dance quicker.
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> The entire room seems to come alive as the very walls and floor start shifting.
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> Time and space are tearing themselves apart as the AI core attempts to flee this dimension.
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> "Cortana…"
>
> John thrusts his remaining fist into the orb as he stands in one difficult, sudden movement.
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> "You will not be remembered like this!"
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> Tears stream down the broken man’s cheek from his only good eye. Sobbing uncontrollably, he pushes his fist deeper into the depth Cortana’s essence. Deeper into Cortana’s soul.
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> "YOU ARE NOT THE MACHINE!"
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> The world explodes into white around him.
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> For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel pain.
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> He doesn’t feel loss.
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> For the first time in his life…
>
> John feels human.
