Master Chief breathed a sigh of relief as he settled into his dingy apartment. One more interview over with. Another job he’d never get. Just his luck – the hiring partner was an Elite and worshiper of the Prophet of Regret. Chief had been sure he was Jewish; even threw in Passover references for good measure. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’ he kept saying as he pounded his forehead, ‘next time do your research!’
Even Cortana got sick of his bitching and left him. How ironic was that? He didn’t even want to be a lawyer. After all, he was the result of expensive genetic and cybernetic engineering – a genuine super-warrior. Super-warrior! But nooo … Cortana wanted a ‘stable guy.’ Said she couldn’t take his running around killing aliens. Oh sure, they looked innocent … but he’d seen enough action on Halo 3 to know the deal. Then there was the time he spent in the Covenant prison camp [“mau … di di mau”].
Sure, the Earth loved him when we was kicking Covenant ass, but with the hero field so crowded now and Spartans being churned out by the Supreme Earth Command at an ever-increasing rate, he wished more than ever that he’d taken that lead guitarist gig with Phantom Planet. To think; he could have played the OC theme song and retired on those royalties alone.
He grabbed the bourbon and started to pour. It was going to be a long night.
… to be continued at the lawyer-law office-family Halo tournament … details to follow