Halo Fanon:Celebrity Deathmatch/Series One

Chapter 00: Introductions
Eleven cells stood, side by side, along a narrow corridor, each occupied by a creature. They had been here for hours, unable to communicate through the strange, semi-transparent field. Some tried pounding on the field while others sat calmly; the occupant of Cell 10 did neither, being a construct and having no tangible body with which to do either. His avatar, which resembled a human wearing green armor, paced silently across the cage. It seemed odd to him that his avatar, being a projection, couldn’t just walk through the field either. The field seemed to change, and suddenly they could hear each other. The occupant of Cell 11, a pale human, snarled at the occupants of Cells 08 and 09, aliens of some sort.

“Welcome to the Halo Fanon Celebrity Death Match,” came a voice over the intercom system. The eleven captives looked around. “You have been selected for our competition, and have thus been transported from your universe into another.”

“I don’t understand,” one of the humans stated.

“After you died, your very existence was transferred into our universe. Because our universes are separate, time does not apply. This competition will have ended before you were ever born, or in one case created, yet you have all already died. In a way, we have brought you together from a particular universe and particular time to battle each other. Because our universe has been afforded to see your universe, you are well known by us, and some have even placed bets on who will win. You have been divided into four categories: human, alien, construct, and classical.”

“Classical?” another of the humans, the one in Cell 07, repeated quizzically.

“The final contestant, John SPARTAN-117, who is in Cell 11, is actually from a parallel universe to yours. The events that occur in your two universes are often very similar, but not entirely the same. SPARTAN-117 exists in both universes, but we chose the one from the parallel universe because we had viewed it first, and found him to be a major player in the events.”

“I think I understand,” John coldly proclaimed. “You want us to fight each other, likely to the death, for your own amusement?”

“Yes. Since you have all already died, we assumed you would not mind dying again. You will be given the choice of any weapons from your time, and those of you who wielded unique weapons or other equipment will be granted it.” The occupant of Cell 02, a human, shifted uneasily.

“What do we get if we win?” he asked.

“You will be granted to continue existing in this universe. Those of you who die will not. Think of it as a chance at a second life.”

“Then let us tarry no longer,” the alien in Cell 08 announced. Steel walls came down around the occupants of Cells 01 and 02, and when they lifted, there was no one inside the containment fields.

Chapter 01: First to Fight
The wall opposite of the containment fields, which had previously been black, flickered to life, showing a large field with debris and other oddities scattered across it. Across the middle was a great wall, dividing the entire field in two. On either side of the wall, two steel boxes rose from the ground and opened. From one, walked the captive from Cell 01, and from the other, the captive from Cell 02. However, they looked different. They had since donned armor and been granted weapons.

“This match will be conducted between Ajax SPARTAN-013 and Hank J. Wimbleton the fourth. It is a battle to the death. However, after several hours, if the battle is not yet won, the others prisoners will vote for a winner, and the other will be executed.” Ajax-013 wore bright green MJOLNIR armor. Across his back, an M90 shotgun was slung, in his hands, a BR55 battle rifle, and at his hip, an M7 submachine gun. On his other hip rested an odd device, which resembled the unactivated hilt of a plasma sword. Hank wore standard UNSC Marine Corps armor and a pair of red shades. He had to M6D pistols at his hips, two M90B semi-automatic shotguns crossed on his back, and an SRS99D sniper rifle with an Oracle scope in his hands. “Battle will commence in three, two, one, GO!”

The wall separating the two combatants quickly lowered. Hank leveled the sniper, but Ajax was quicker, diving aside as the round was fired. Hank fired twice more, but both shots missed the quicker Ajax. Hank paused fire, and made as if to reload. Ajax paused, kneeled down, and sighted down is battle rifle. Hank quickly snapped the rifle back up and fired, catching Ajax off guard. The round, though aimed for Ajax’s center of mass, caught him in the shoulder as he tried to avoid the shot. Ajax flinched, but he didn’t drop the battle rifle. Instead, he dove behind cover, out of sight of Hank, who had yet to move. Ajax now had a decently clear path to Hank where Hank couldn’t snipe at him, so Hank discarded the rifle and drew his two M6D pistols. Ajax was fast, and he was jumping over a burnt out Cougar APC as brought the two pistols to bear. Hank fired as Ajax came down then dove aside. Ajax, who was in midair, couldn’t dodge the shots, but his reflective shields and armor stopped all but one, which penetrated his stomach. He landed in a roll, and came up with the battle rifle pointed at Hank. He squeezed off a three round burst, but Hank dropped to the ground just in time to avoid the shots. Luckily for Hank, there was a low box between the two, or he would have been easy prey for his opponent. Ajax primed an M9 fragmentation grenade, and tossed it over the box, but before it had even landed, it came flying back at him. Apparently, Hank had caught the grenade and throw it back. The grenade exploded, throwing shrapnel all about and draining Ajax’s shields completely. And then Hank was up, both pistols already firing. Ajax dove aside, but a round hit him in the back, driving half-way through his armor’s battery pack. The armor momentarily powered down before the reserve battery kicked in. Ajax ran as quickly as he could to cover, which was rather fast, and then tore the armor off before the reserve, which only had a life of a few minutes, powered down and he was completely trapped inside his own armor. Hank, to the surprise of the spectators, did not give chase, apparently understanding what was happening. He waited patiently for Ajax to reengage. Ajax silently cursed his terrible luck, slung his battle rifle, and pumped a round into the chamber of his shotgun. Hank was ready, having already discarded the empty pistols and drawn his two semi-automatic shotguns. Ajax had range, but Hank had rate of fire. The M90B was terribly inaccurate, but it still had the notoriously eight gauge stopping power of the M90, albeit a little watered-down considering the scattering pattern being a bit wider to compensate for the chambering system. Ajax charged first, lifting the Überchasis he had been hiding behind several inches off the ground and shoving it roughly aside. Hank bided his time, waiting for just the right moment to strike. Timing would be everything in this situation. Just before Ajax came into the effective range of his own shotgun, which was at least twice that of Hank’s, Hank dropped both the shotguns, and drew a throwing knife from a hidden sheath somewhere near his right sleeve. Ajax tried to stop, but his momentum wouldn’t allow him to change directions. The knife went exactly where Hank wanted it to, right into the side of the shotgun, knocking it by force from Ajax’s hands. Two more knives, drawn from different sheaths on Hank’s person, flew across, cutting the straps that held the holstered M7 in place. Ajax, not about to expose himself by reaching to pick it up, drew the oddly shaped plasma sword hilt from his other hip. He activated it, and to the surprise of everyone else, including Hank, a sword materialized on either side of the hilt, making the blade, in trained hands, much deadlier than a regular plasma sword. Hank threw another knife before Ajax could charge, and while Ajax deflected (in actuality more of melted than deflected) the thrown knife, Hank drew his own sword, with ancient Thai writing scribed on the sides of the keen blade. Spinning it once in his hand to get a feel for the balance, Hank took up an expert swordsman’s pose. Ajax, having no doubt that his sword would cut right through Hank’s antique steel sword, came on aggressively, with a strong downward swipe at Hank’s head. Rather than parrying, Hank sidestepped and jabbed, but withdrew his sword before it came into contact with Ajax’s parrying plasma sword. Hank began a routine consisting mostly of feints with few slices coming anywhere near Ajax, who moved to parry each one. As long as Hank kept Ajax parrying, he wouldn’t have to deal with the plasma cutting through his steel sword and could look for an opening in Ajax’s defenses. Ajax was determined to break the routine up, and did so by suddenly rushing forward and sweeping at Hank’s waist. Hank jumped up over the energy blade, and managed to kick out, catching Ajax in the face. The kick was weak, but it was enough to send Ajax back a step and allowed Hank to do a neat little flip and land several feet back. Cutting across at a horizontal, Ajax rushed forward, convinced that Hank wouldn’t be able to dodge his next attack. However, to Ajax’s complete surprise, Hank brought his sword up and parried the attack. Rather than passing right through the steel blade, Hank’s armor, and Hank’s body, the plasma sword met some sort of resistance in the sword. Ajax cursed his bad luck again as Hank, spun inside and kicked him right in the gut. Ajax back up, bringing his sword up to protect from Hank’s one-handed downward slice, but missing the subtle movements of Hank’s other hand, which reached into a sheath on Hank’s right shoulder and threw a knife. The knife buried itself to the hilt in Ajax’s stomach. Ajax dropped his sword, which deactivated on the ground. Hank, however, hesitated to move in for the kill.

“I refuse to kill this man. I have clearly won, and therefore see it pointless to end his life for your personal entertainment.” Ajax was slightly confused, having had no such doubts in his own mind. Pulling the knife from his stomach, Ajax hurled it with the speed and accuracy only a Spartan could, and Hank reflected it with his own sword with surprising speed and dexterity. Hank turned his attention back up to the sky, where he was presumably being watched by some crowd of people. Ajax looked down at the small puddle of blood collecting around him, and noticed the cut holster of his M7 sitting within easy reach. He snatched it up, and as Hank turned back towards him, leveled it at Hank. However, Ajax didn’t pull the trigger immediately.

“You should have finished me off when you had the chance,” he wheezed. “In the SPARTAN-II project, we learned not to hesitate.” As a crescendo to his statement, Ajax pulled the trigger. Hank began desperately deflecting the bullets with mind blowing movements of his sword. However, sixty rounds is a lot, and some of them got through. The submachine gun began clicking to indicate there was no more ammo left, and Hank, with at least four rounds in his chest, was somehow still standing.

“In the SPARTAN-I project, we learned how to survive,” Hank coldly stated, removing his standard issue armor to reveal a high-density Kevlar vest. Ajax tried to stand, but had lost far too much blood by this time, and collapsed again. Hank began to walk away, retrieving one of his pistols. He checked to ensure a round was chambered, and then dropped the clip out of it. He tossed the pistol to Ajax. “I’m leaving. If they don’t come out to get you, you can either bleed to death, or you can end your own life quickly, and with as little pain as possible. However, I will not commit the deed for their entertainment.” Hank swept his hands dramatically at the sky to indicate those watching. He walked away, leaving Ajax to his thoughts. As the steel door of the box Hank had first emerged from closed, Hank heard the distinct sound of a pistol firing. Since there was no sound of the round ricocheting off of the steel box Hank had just stepped in, Hank assumed that Ajax had opted for the latter option.

Chapter 02: Brother Against Brother
Hank was in a cell again. However, he was now in Cell 01. He looked over to the others. Someone gave him a thumbs-up, as if to silently congratulate him on his victory, but he merely shook his head. There was no honor in what he had had to do. Silently, Cells 03 and 04 were enclosed in steel from above, and when the steel box lifted, the occupants were gone. The wall flickered to life, showing the field Hank had just battled on, though it had been rearranged and the blood been cleaned off. The two boxes came up, one SPARTAN-II sporting an M90 shotgun, MA5K carbine, two M7 submachine guns, and a couple M9 frag grenades, the other wielding an SRS99C-S2 anti-material rifle, two M6D pistols, and a BR55 battle rifle.

“This match will be conducted between Nick SPARTAN-118 and Codename Khu. It is a battle to the death. However, after several hours, if the battle is not yet won, the others prisoners will vote for a winner, and the other will be executed. Battle will commence in three, two, one, GO!” As fellow SPARTAN-IIs, both knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, so Nick knew that Khu would probably start with a sniper rifle. He was already on the move by the time the wall had dropped, easily diving for cover before Khu could fire his rifle. A grenade came soaring from across the field, its four second fuse ending just as it reached Khu and before it had hit the ground. Khu’s shields took the brunt of the blow, but it had served its purpose. Khu was blind, distracted, and without a shield for a few seconds. Nick dove from above a stack of crates, leveling his MA5C. He fired in controlled three-round bursts. Khu took one round to the leg before he could manage to jump away. Leaning against a thick, rusted barrel, Khu prepped himself to stand and fire. He jumped up, firing at where Nick had been before he was even sighted or fully standing. All four shots flew true, but Nick wasn’t there anymore. Something clanked against the barrel. Khu looked down, and then dove aside as the grenade exploded, turning the barrel into a twisted heap of molten metal. Khu dropped his rifle and drew the BR55, landing and sliding on his back with his gun ready lest Nick advance while he was down. Jumping up, he found cover behind a steel containment unit that was twice his height, as wide as it was tall, and easily four times longer than he was tall. He paused long enough for his shields to recharge, and then set out slowly, looking for the tell-tale blip on his motion sensor. A red dot appeared right behind him. Spinning, he found that he was facing the containment unit. Realizing that it must be hollow, Khu began spraying the containment unit. Inside, Nick dropped to the ground, avoiding all the bullets. When Khu stopped firing, Nick took that as a cue for him to attack, drawing his shotgun and charging out. Khu threw his battle rifle at Nick as he drew his two M6D pistols. Nick jumped, clearing the thrown weapon, and landing within five meters of Khu. The shotgun resounded, taking a good chunk out of Khu’s shield bar. Khu began firing as well, and both began circling, rolling, and weaving. The slides on Khu’s pistols locked back as he ran out of ammo. By his count, Nick had maybe one or two shells left in his shotgun, and Khu had about an eighth of a bar left on his shield. Flipping the pistols and catching them by the barrels, Khu adopted a fighter’s stance. Always one for fair play, Nick discarded his shotgun and drew a combat knife. Khu lunged first, swinging repeatedly at Nick’s head. Nick stepped aside, blocking as best as he could, and then kicked out hard into Khu’s chest. The blow went right through Khu’s meager shields and sent him flying back. Nick threw the combat knife, which struck Khu right in the visor. Khu reached up and disengaged his helmet, tossing it aside. The knife had penetrated up to an inch, and had been mere millimeters from Khu’s right eye. Seeing his opponent unarmed, Khu disregarded his lack of shields and charged ahead. Nick sidestepped at the last second, and dealt Khu a fatal blow to the head with his fist. Khu went down, and didn’t rise. Nick slowly strolled over to the elevator he had ridden up on, and entered. Nick came back out in Cell 02, next to Hank. He tried to smile at Hank, who would be his next opponent, but could tell by Hank’s demeanor that he did not enjoy this game at all.