Halo Reloaded - Gesundheit
@authortobenamedlater, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask
The snow-world battlefield was already chaos incarnate—cobalt plasma streaks slashing through the blizzard, the thump-thump-thump of Jackal carbines, and Vannak’s machine gun hammering out its steady BRAKKA-BRAKKA-BRAKKA into the white haze. He was crouched behind a blasted barricade outside the ONI facility, keeping the enemy pinned while the rest of Spartan-One cleared the complex. Then it happened.
“hhHHHHhhuhhhTSSHhhHHhhHEEEEWWWWW!!”
The sneeze detonated inside his helmet like a flashbang. His visor fogged, the HUD flickered, and for one awful second he was blind, ears ringing from his own bodily betrayal.
“—oh come o—” was all he managed before a bright green blob from a fuel rod cannon screamed out of the storm. WHOOMPF!! The blast hit square at his cover. The explosion blew Vannak backwards like a 300-pound frisbee, sending him ragdolling through the air, limbs flailing in slow-motion.
KRAAAASH!! He smashed straight through the reinforced door of the ONI building, bounced across the lobby tiles like a skipping stone, and finally landed flat on his back in a cloud of plaster dust. His gun clattered six meters away with a very sad clink-clink-clink. Silence.
Then John, stepping through the hole with his usual calm, peered down at the heap of twisted Spartan sprawled like a dropped action figure. His silver visor tilted. “…You alright, Vannak?” A low groan answered him. Vannak raised one gauntleted hand like he was about to deliver last rites… then sneezed again.
“hhhhhhHHHTTSSHHhhhuuuHHhh!!” The recoil of his own sneeze actually rocked his helmet against the floor with a comedic CLONK!
Fred’s voice crackled over comms, dry as a desert. “That’s affirmative, Chief. He’s alive. Dignity? Debatable.” Kelly sprinted past, psion senses humming as she ducked incoming fire deeper in the hall. She didn’t even look at him—just called, “Nice landing, Vannak! Ten points for style, minus fifty for sneezing at the wrong time!”
From somewhere above, Linda’s voice sniped in (pun intended): “I had eyes on you, Vannak. Thought the Covenant got you. Turns out you got yourself.” Kai chimed in, trying not to laugh but failing: “New combat doctrine: never sneeze in a firefight.” Riz added helpfully, “Logging incident for after-action report: ‘Spartan-134 neutralized by seasonal allergies.’”
John knelt beside Vannak, hauling the bigger Spartan up by his chestplate with a single armored hand. Dust showered off him. Vannak’s voice finally rasped through the comms: “—I… hate… snow planets.”
John, deadpan: “…Gesundheit.” Kelly actually burst out laughing mid-firefight. Even Fred’s steady shooting paused a beat as if he was shaking his head inside the helmet. Then, as another fuel rod round slammed into the wall beside them with a thunderous KROOMPF!!, John gave Vannak a shove toward his gun. “Come on, ragdoll. Cover fire. And this time—keep your nose clear.”
Vannak muttered something unrepeatable, grabbed his weapon, and started unloading with a furious BRAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!! at the enemy like he was personally avenging himself against pollen, dust, and the entire galaxy. The rest of the squad roared forward, still snickering in their helmets.
