Marine 1: Did you hear the announcement? We're being reassigned.

Marine 2: What? That's great news! Maybe now we'll finally see some action!

Marine 1: We're being reassigned... to Master Chief's unit.

Marine 2: Oh. Oh, no.

Marine 1: I know.

Marine 2: Are... are we being punished? Did we do something wrong?

Marine 1: Sarge told me it was an honor. An honor.

Marine 2: That bastard.

Marine 3 enters

Marine 3: Hey guys, did you hear the news? We're going to be in the 254th Spartan Support Unit! We get to meet Master Chief! Holy cow, I gotta go call my mom!

Marine 1: He doesn't know.

Marine 2: Marine, have you ever met anyone from a Spartan Support Unit?

Marine 3: No! That's what makes it so exciting!

Marine 1: Don't you find that strange? There have been 253 of them.

Marine 2: That's over a thousand men, Marine. All dead. Every. Last. One.

Marine 3: What? Come on, that's crazy. How is that even possible?

Marine 1: How? That's a good question to ask. How is it the UNSC always drops Master Chief off with a full complement of soldiers, but picks him up alone?

Marine 3: I... I don't know.

Marine 1: Just look at these weapon records.

Marine 3: Let me see those. Assault rifles, battle rifles, snipers. Typical unit distribution. Looks like a pretty standard support outfit. So what?

Marine 1: That's how they all start out, yeah. But then Master Chief goes around to them one by one. He takes only the best weapons for himself. He leaves his own men with nothing but plasma pistols to fight off the aliens.

Marine 3: Plasma pistols are pretty good!

Marine 1: (scoffs) He may as well have given them rocks to throw.

Marine 3: Look, that doesn't mean anything. Master Chief needs to have the best weapons. He needs them to protect us.

Marine 2: Protect us? My cousin showed up to his unit in a tank, once. He's driven tanks all his life, my cousin. Spent hundreds of hours in simulators and on the battlefield. No one's a better tank pilot than he is. He was all excited just like you, but when he got there, Master Chief wanted to drive. My cousin refused. Do you know what Master Chief did to my cousin? He shot him a hundred-and-thirty-nine times in the face.

Marine 3: Jesus Christ! What did the others do?

Marine 2: Nothing. Master Chief is nine feet tall and made of titanium; all those men had were plasma pistols and rocks. They had to pretend like they hadn't seen a thing. But then, when he got behind the wheel... his tank driving... it was so awful...

Marine 1: Have you ever seen an entire squad crushed by its own tank before? Master Chief hasn't. He wasn't even looking where he was going.

Marine 2: Like he didn't even care.

Marine 3: How do you guys know all this?

Marine 1: Maybe you should try doing your own research, instead of just believing the cover stories.

Marine 2: Don't you get it? He doesn't protect us. He doesn't even care if we live or die. It's like some kind of game to him.

Marine 1: I once saw a video of him driving a jeep full of soldiers straight into an enemy base, once. No plan of attack, just drove right in.

Marine 3: No! But that's suicide!

Marine 1: It sure was. No one survived. But Master Chief just reappeared five seconds later, about half a mile back along the beach.

Marine 3: He can't die?

Marine 1: Who knows? But I think it's clear that, if God does exist, He loves Master Chief and hates us.

Marine 3: Whatever, man. You guys are just trying to scare me.

Marine 1: How do you want to go, Marine? Better get your affairs in order.

Marine 2: I hope I go quietly. I don't want to go like the 233rd did. All covered in sticky grenades.

Marine 3: Shut up! Shut up! We're going to be fine! I'm calling my mom, and she's going to be so proud of me. You guys are sick. Sick!

Marine 3 dials phone

Marine 3: Hello, Mom? Hi! Guess what? I'm going to fight alongside Master Chief! Awesome, huh? Mom? Mom, why are you crying?

Other Marines drop their gaze to the ground and shake their heads slowly

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