Colour Group: Dark Green: Halo

Master Chief awoke to find that he was alone. He got up, and dusted off his armour, then looked around. He could feel something strange in the air. Surveying his surroundings, the corridor he found himself in was dark, the floor was covered in chipped brown tiles and the walls were made of painted cinder blocks. He attempted to patch a communications channel through the device built into his helmet but all he heard was static. His first thought was to find supplies when a bright light at the end of the corridor drew his attention. He stepped forward into the light and was momentarily blinded as his helmet’s vision system adapted to reveal the ruins of a 2-story atrium. Holes in the ceiling exposed the sky above and everything was covered in a thick layer of fine beige dust. Large plaques hung loosely from the walls, names worn away, and the rusted metal frames of couches whose cushions were long eaten away by moths lay to his left. Crumbling brown stone bricks attempted to cover half the height of the walls but the upper half appeared as if it had once been lined with windows. Chief felt exposed, he could see into the empty hallways of the second floor just as easily as anyone or anything on the second floor could see him. Though in front of him was an abandoned canteen which may contain supplies, the set of steps to his right distracted him from his goal. The tiled steps were immaculate, not a speck of dust, chip or scratch as if they were immune to the ravages of time. The steps led up to an equally untouched set of double doors which were shut. Wiping the last bit of dust from the front of his helmet, he read the gothic lettering on a sign nearby: POETS. Approaching cautiously, he could hear a low hum emanating through the opaque glass, the steady sound of a drum-beat was growing louder from within, along with the unmistakable sound of a 6-string-BAM! The double doors flew open and a fireball exploded forth, sending Chief flying. He hit the wall spine first, shattering bricks on impact and fell face-down onto the ground. His armour had saved his body from some of the damage but his ears rang and he felt nauseous. Mustering the last of his strength, he lifted his head, and with blurred vision could see pairs of black boots surround him. The last thing he could remember as he closed his eyes was the faint jingle of steel chains before his mind slipped into the darkness. DARK GREEN!! Master Chief needs you help! Join us in CPH 3679, we must band together to shift time in our favour and win Frosh Week!