HALO 2: An exchange of hats

The Elites are done for. Regret’s murder has propelled us to the heights we have craved.

Soon, the Holy Ones will give us the word and we will rise up against the Elites, but for now, we take their place.

Heretics, every one of them. Pah! Religious words for a necessary eradication. If only the Prophets knew what Tartarus was planning.

Us Brutes are lining up, preparing to march out to the Prophets’ inner sanctum entryway and relieve the current guard. My belly aches for this moment.

“Brutes, advance.” The call is out. We march forward onto the skyway. The Elite Honour Guards turn their heads as we approach them. They know what is coming.

They remove their helmets, drop their spears, remove armour, and off they slink to their quarters.

Brute brothers are fighting each other for the discarded relics, brutal punches are swung, the air is thick with betrayal. It’s glorious. The Brutes are in ascendance.

The scrabbling for Honour Guard positions isn’t even interrupted by the Arbiter’s arrival. He stares us down disapprovingly. Arrogant beast. Your armour won’t save you from the fires.

I stand next to my brothers lining the skyway to the Prophets. We are the protectors now. The Elites will soon be cast out, and nothing will stand in our way.

They will heading on their Great Journey earlier than they ever could have planned. Fools. 

S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: SHADOW OF CHERNOBYL: Patching up the explorer

Strelok was never the same after his first attempt to reach the centre of the Zone. I still remember when he returned.

Bloodied, weary, as if he was under some sort of spell. He held out in his hand a glowing orb. At first it looked like he was holding a ball of fire, until I saw the edges. It was perfect, flawless beauty.

Most of us think it was the first artifact ever found, and once news spread from the Zone that these things were here, you couldn’t move for people sneaking in to profit.

I patched him up as best I could, but he spent days unconscious, reeling in his sleep from terrifying things known only to him. What had he seen? He never said. I just remember that his life became consumed by the need to get back to the centre.

Strelok whipped Fang and Ghost into a frenzy of organisation for a trip I think even he knew would fail. And it did. Despite getting to the centre, to the Power Station, they found a door they couldn’t open, and that was the end of that. They returned with injuries, and Strelok went out on his own again.

Aside from one massive blowout, not much has happened since he left. The Zone remains, Strelok is no where to be found, and the others all went their own ways. The only thing I heard of recently was about a crashed Death Truck in the Cordon, and talk of a Marked One, but who he is or what is actually going on...I don’t know.

Knowing Strelok, he’ll blow into my path again. But who knows when? I miss my friend.

LEFT 4 DEAD: Better safe than sorry!

Afraid of the infection, locked myself in the safe room. Better safe then sorry!

Bitten by a survivor who claimed to be immune. Is this extreme paranoia or growing insanity. No, no, no, no, no! No, no! You said that last time! You said that last time! I trusted you last time!

I...I opened the door before...and I got bit for my trouble. No. Better safe than sorry! Better safe than sorry!!

Waited for an hour, must be immune. Trusted that last time. Not doing that again. I’ve got a plan! I’m going to be safe. Don’t want to be sorry!

Ring the church bell to attract a horde if more come for me. Prove their immunity or humanity, can’t remember which.

Write it down. Better safe than sorry! Ring the bell to warn them away. A test.

Better safe than sorry! They’re going to be sorry if they try and fool me again!

Better safe than...cough...than...feel faint...sorry! Better safe than sorry!

Knocks at the door! Voices! They'll not fool me...again!!!

“GO AWAY! NO ONE GETS IN!”

BIOSHOCK: My world. Mine!

"You came here to destroy what you could never build. A Hun, gawping at the gates of Rome." Words I spoke in anger, never more true than they are now.

My Rome. My world. This is not some place I inhabit. This is my world. I built this city. It is my philosophies and politics that have shaped Rapture. It is my will that it should be.

A long time ago, I asked myself: in what country was there a place for men like me – men who refused to say "yes" to the parasites and the doubters, men who believed that work was sacred and property rights inviolate. And then one day, the happy answer came to me, my friends: there was no country for people like me! And that was the moment I decided... to build one.

My critics call me a grotesque amalgamation of libertarianism and the free market, of greed and narcissism. But in my world, they are either with me or against me. Simple.

Rapture was set on its course by me, and its fate will be decided by me. Even if that trajectory is doom and destruction.

An interloper has no place in my world. Especially not one who has moved so effortlessly through my city. Even now I watch him skulking through my hallways working with Atlas.

"Would you kindly". A powerful phrase. And so my world is undone with politeness. So be it, let this be the brightest fire in the coldest ocean.

GUEST POST: DUKE NUKEM 3D: Another day, another dollar

I’ve been working at the strip club for three years now, and nearly every night Duke had visited me for one reason or another. He always said I was his favourite girl.

I liked working at the club. Besides the lecherous old men it was fun to hang out with the girls, and the dancing keeps me fit.

And sure, I like Duke and enjoy the attention from him, who wouldn’t? But I do feel sorry for him, always out fighting and getting himself into trouble.

Duke hadn’t been in today and, strangely, I kind of missed him. Coupled with the fear that anytime now a group of assault troopers could burst through the door, I was feeling really on edge.

It was getting late and I could hear this loud noise outside. That’s when, all of a sudden, the doors burst open, and in a cloud of smoke with two dead pig cops by his feet Duke walked in. I was glad to see him.

He walked straight up to me with his fists full of dollars, took his seat and said to me: "Shake it baby."

***

Massive thanks to Amy, creator/writer of the "Daisiesanddolls" blog, for this excellent addition to "Stories from the universes", and for being my first ever guest post writer! You can read Amy's own blog here: daisiesanddolls.blogspot.co.uk. There's even a blog from me on Amy's site too...the wonder of guest posting.