Chief VDay

Happy Belated Valentines to the

It had been days, four according to his chart, but time felt like a blur. The last fight was tough, his suit took a beating. He remembered the head wound like a bright flash of light. Still, he was surprised to wake up in a field hospital. Every mission he assumed he would win or die trying. Apparently this time he won.

He stretched his stiff neck and shoved up on the cot, his head wound still pounding but nothing like his chest. Whatever shrapnel made it past his shields must have been jet-propelled. His chart used the word "speared". Yikes. Truthfully, he was more embarrassed than anything. He didn't remember the incident at all, but there was probably an out and he should have taken it; it's not right for a SPARTAN to find himself like this.

Something pink drifted in his peripheral vision. On the bedside table, a Valentines Day balloon hung in the air covered in red hearts. Chief raised an eyebrow and followed the path of the string down to a small vase with three roses and a bow.

This was some kind of mistake; he had no valentine, nor would the hypothetical person guess this was his taste. He elbowed up and found a card on the table beside.

0051. It's coming back now. The squad was stranded, outnumbered, he dropped in to help. One Spartan versus the worst. At least they made it out. He looked back at the balloon and cracked a wincing smile. Will those kids ever grow up?

Probably not. He eases back into place and, with a heavy sigh, admits... he's glad.



love you guys