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Miniutemen -Halo fanfiction-Sven gripped the his sniper rifle. Aboard the pelican, it was completely silent except of the faint hum of the engine, outside, countless Warthogs and Mongooses, and occasional Scorpion Tanks could be see speeding along on the ground, packed with Spartans and ODST soldiers. To the left and right, multiple Hornets, Hawks and Pelican air units were filled with evermore men and women waiting for the upcoming battle. This battle would decide who would control the nearby HALO. Neither side could afford to lose this battle. We had 20 million strong, the covenant had maybe 25 million. The Plasma mortar of a wraith flew over the horizon barely missing a Mongoose below. The Covenant were here. A Spartan with dark-green armor walked into the passenger area of the Pelican.
"Spartans! Today is the day we make history, they have 1/4 more forces then we do, but we have hardcore warriors!" The Commander yelled, trying to encourage the soldiers.
All of the soldiers but Sven dropped to the ground to be
The Flames of Chaos -prologue-The Flames of Chaos -prologue-
I do not own "Naruto" in any way, this is just for fun, please don't sue me.
My Chapters will be longer
A 14-year-old boy lay on a cozy, burgandy couch, reading a comic book by lamplight. He looked at the clock to his right. 12:38. It was becoming a habit of his to stay up very late, stealing away to the attic when his parents thought he had gone to bed. Truth be told, it was his favorite part of the day, ever since he had discovered that his brother had comic books, he couldn't wait for his brother to go off to collage so he could raid his comic book collection. The day his brother had actully left, he did go upstairs to prospect for long lost boxes of comic books that his brother, and dad before him had collected. The boy himself saw no point in collecting comic books, but loved reading them. He knew his dad had some old marvel ones but, when he saw what his brother had, he almost fainted. Naruto comic books. A kid at schoo
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
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