As usual around Christmas time when there is a war, the soldiers will sometime lay down their arms and come together for a moment in warmth and peace. Such a thing happened on board the Marathon today. Silent Night was playing over the intercom system during a lull in the fighting. I happened upon a squad of Pfhor projectile fighters led by a Purple Trooper. An odd thing happened, we just looked at each other, no one powered up their weapons. I slowly took my hand from the grip of my holstered .44 Magnum. The Trooper stepped forward and offered his hand saying gently, "Uhh er uhh ahhhh". This was an awkward moment for us both. Soon we were all singing carols and sipping eggnog. I reached into a side flap of an ammo pouch, found my lucky Bhanta foot and gave it to the Trooper. In kind he gave me a small cylinder with a blinking light. It was magical, and as he turned to rejoin his squad of blue fighters a light bulb lit up in his dim little pinhead. After 6 years of repeatedly playing the same level in the same map he finally realized I was going to spin around any moment and plant a rack of SPNKRs into his stinking butt crack. Quickly he barked a command to his corporal and the Pfhor squad opened fire. A grenade lifted my feet from the deck plating making me an easy target for the fighter staff's energy bolts to pin me against the bulkhead. The trooper charged with his battle rifle spewing metal slugs into my twitching, jerking form. Helplessly I fumbled for a weapon as I watched my shield bar rapidly slide from half yellow, to red, to nothing. As my lifeless battle helmet sank to the deck and recorded the scene, the squad of Pfhor pulled down their pants and slid back and forth across the room in the gore on their naked butts. Where's that damn action key!
Merry Christmas everyone and happy CARNAGE in the new year!
Gary Simmons
the Battle Cat
