Categories > Games > Halo > 'Safe and Sound


by coldthing 0 reviews

Spartan 241 felt like a piece of equipment being stripped down for storage.

Category: Halo - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2007-05-26 - Updated: 2007-05-27 - 513 words

23.10.2552 7:43

Onboard SolidarnoÅ>Ä*

Landing Bay video recording.

Spartan 241 touched his faceplate against 177†s sweaty brow before the medical technicians whisked the other Spartan away. 177†s eyes flickered open slightly then closed again.

241 usually lived in a world of concrete compartments, this whole experience had blurred the lines between where it ended and the Spartan began. It found it very unnerving to be both the Spartan and itself at the same time.

‽Alright kiddo, lets get that amour off” The armory technicians had been brought into the landing bay to help strip the unconscious 177 and 232 of their armor, 157 was still working on the Planet side salvage op. Onboard 241 was the only one left still in full battle dress.

241 undid the pressure seals at the back of the helmet and the recycled air hissed out, it pulled the helmet off and took a deep breath. ‽ Fuck yeah” Sean 241 said. He gingerly set his helmet on the floor by his feet.

‽Good to be out of this thing eh?” The armory technician continued, Sean flashed him a tight smile as the technician helped him remove his armor†s bulky power pack and chest plate. In the field the suit could be removed in about five minutes flat, but that would risk damaging some of the suits more delicate electronics. Sean flexed his shoulders; he stood a good two feet over the technician. He felt like a piece of equipment being stripped down for storage.

Next to go were the shoulder plates and the gauntlets. He rolled his neck to get the cricks out of it and scratched his downy scalp once his hands were free.

Then he was pushed back onto a convenient stack of crates as the technician freed him from the boots and thigh plates; finally the last thing off was the codpiece. Sean shivered slightly as he was left only the amour†s sweaty cotton under suit.

The technician threw him a black cover all. ‽The Old Man wants to see you when you†re finished here.”

‽Yes sir” Sean gave him a sloppy salute.

â€~The Old Man†could mean either Captain Lem, meticulous and as tenacious as a bulldog, or Pete, who was broken in the same way as he was and moaned in Polish when Sean sucked his cock. The armory technician started to neatly pack away his, 177, and 232†s black MOLNJIR armor unaware that Sean was starting to blur into 241.

His scrupulous compartments were breaking down. Sean, confused, pulled the cover all over his body, ignoring the fact that it was made for some one substantially shorter than he was. He shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of his ears. He headed for his rack to lick his bruises, find his ill-fitting service dress and wonder what to do about the Old Man†s summons.

Sean had spent most of his childhood in the Spartan program taking grueling runs around the compound in the pouring rain because he†d willfully and deliberately disobeyed Master Sergeant Mandella; disobeying Lem†s order was not foremost in his mind.
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