Without War: By the Mechanical Balls

"What's that smell?" Sergeant Johnson commented, sitting on a steel bench against the wall, still donning his bright, lime-green colored suit.

"Oh I don't know, but I'm fairly certain it's that bucket of piss and crap in the corner over there," Master Chief pointed out casually, sitting across the way from Johnson.

"Well in that case… Hey!" Johnson shouted out, "Can one of you please clean this thing out? My nose hairs are almost lighting on fire over here!"

"Keep quiet in there," an obese officer barked from what seemed to be a light blue barrier. "I can't smell anything through this barrier, so I don't know what you're talking about." The officer smiled smugly and took a large bite of his pastry, which in itself was about the size of a football, and oozing with an obviously unhealthy cream filling.

"…You fat bastard," Johnson mumbled under his breath, as he looked away seeing the Arbiter seemingly a little uneasy. "You know, leatherhead, you should probably relax. All that heavy breathing and grunting is making me feel uncomfortable, if you catch my drift."

"But… That creamy liquid… That rich creamy liquid!" the Arbiter grumbled, with a nervous desperation.

"…Now you're really making me feel uncomfortable," Johnson muttered leaning back as far as his could.

"That delicious… what do you call it… 'Chocolate milk'… I must have some!" the Arbiter continued, twiddling his long fingers out in front of him as if he wished to have a cold bottle in his hands.

"Looks like Arby's having some withdrawal," Chief commented, with not one sliver of compassion in his tone.

"Well that's sure a surprise for the guy to like such a drink," Johnson pointed out before looking towards the Arbiter, "If you should get addicted to anything, it should probably be Heinricker's Cognac." Leaning back, "Sar-J could use a glass of that right about now."

"Yea, well I think you actually need a tall glass of 'shut the hell up'. Now me, I could use some 'lets me the hell out of this dump right now'!" Chief lashed back, in an erratic and thoughtless manner.

"…That's it? That's the best you have Chief?" Cortana echoed after a small pause rang through the room.

"Well that was simply, awful response," Johnson grumbled with a slightly amused chuckle as he stood up from the bench.

"Quiet both of you!" Chief retorted, turning away and crossing his arms, "There must be a way out of this place…"

"How about you stay here, and lament your actions Chief! This could be a good time for an important lesson in the rules… of society!" Cortana shouted, broadcasting to everyone in the cell.

"Your human society is filthy, and exists to be crushed. What benefits would exist for following such pathetic rules," the Arbiter rumbled.

"Hey now, cocoa-milk head – We're not that bad. But I will have to agree, rules of society exist for poor and ugly people – both which I am not – of course. So it doesn't benefit me at all."

Cortana could only groan, as the three nodded in agreement that they had done nothing wrong, even though there was still a monstrous hole in the side of the shopping center as a result from their actions.

"I see you worthless turds are showing great remorse…" a man growled from behind them.

Everyone turned back and saw the man standing behind the light barrier. "Ugh," Chief sighed, "Oh, look. It's Fatty McFat Fat."

"Shut it Robo-boy!"

"Robo-boy?" Chief responded, turning to the others with his arms raised in confusion.

"I'm not here to deal with any crap from those who had the courtesy of blowing a hole into the side of my shopping center!" their large supervisor barked with his arms crossed. "I've got you guys, right where I want you."

"You know, that hole… it offers a spectacular opportunity for some positive renovations. So in a way, we should be thanked!" Chief pointed out, with his finger pointed upward.

"Shut your mechanical trap, Master Grief," he barked back.

Silence filled the cell, as the three looked around at each other.

"As dreadful as that was, the name was appropriate for you Jonathan," Arbiter suddenly spouted.

"Arby… shh!" Master Chief directed. "So… What are you here for, to gloat?"

"No I came to retrieve you guys, since I still employ you."

Master Chief jerked his head back to everyone and back to the smug looked boss, "Well how about that! Looks like me and Arby are getting sprung! Have a nice time in here Johnson!"

"Wait a damned second! I didn't do anything to deserve to rot in the hell hole, while these guys are walking after razed structures with improvised explosives!"

"Well…" the fat officer cut in, with a mouth full of gooey pastry, muffling his speech, "You did get caught driving three times the legal speed limit."

"… That's not important! I didn't blow up anything!"

"Well you're coming with me as well, celery stalk," he quipped pointing out his outfit.

"Hey, say what you want about me, but leave the jacket out of it!" Johnson retaliated.

"I'll say what I want, about all three of you as a matter of fact. You bone heads, now belong to me," he directed, pointing at all of them through the barrier. "And you wise-guy," her directed towards Chief, "I've got you by those mangled mechanical balls."

"Mangled…?" chief leaned over, whispering to everyone in the cell.

"Oh… splendid!" Cortana commented, oozing with sarcasm.

"You know, I should just throw this spoiled jar of mayo into your face Chief… right, into your big, stupid cybernetic face!" Johnson complained, spiking the jar of green and white goo onto the floor – which will no longer be referred to as mayonnaise.

"Hey relax," Master Chief responded with his hand held up defensively, now again wearing a simple apron. They were all back at the super market, still a mess, stomping around in rubble and smashed produce. "This will be a piece of cake."

Although, the word 'cake' resoundingly echoed through the large, and understandably empty supermarket, exemplifying the sheer size of the place – which was basically completely in shambles. With the sound of Chief's comment disappearing from the echo's repetition, small pieces of additional rubble fell from the walls. "Well… it'll just be a very large piece of cake."

"Kiss my meaty and voluptuous ass, Chief – right on the tattoo of myself on the left cheek," Johnson responded angrily, pointing his left hip towards Master Chief.

Chief recoiled, then crooked his head in bewilderment, "Wait… you have a tattoo of yourself on your butt cheek?"

"Hey, I have so many people kissing my ass, I might as well treat them to a nice view, am I right?"

Master Chief stood there silent without a motion for a moment, before responding, "Nothing about your ass would constitute as 'nice'."

"Hello filthy humans," Arbiter called out, as he walked through another one of the few remaining shelves, sending all of the produce flying around as the metal of the shelf twisted and tore like tissue-paper. He looked around at all of the mess, including the stuff he just strewn about the floor from walking through the shelf, "Your designated area of sanitation is quite inadequate."

"Well, it'd be a lot easier to clean if we didn't have to clean after your giant alien worthlessness!" Johnson jarred off, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"My worth is substantial - unlike you, formally fashionable, and still pathetic human!"

Johnson gasped, "How dare you put my fashion into question!"

"Johnson…" Chief commented from the side, looking off to the side, while blindly directing to Johnson's outfit. He was sporting a grody apron, with a soiled white t-shirt underneath, and a pair of dark blue sweat pants. "Sweat pants, huh?"

"Don't you look at me! Erase this data from your memory!"

"Well yea, Arby – you might want to… I don't know… stop walking through the damn shelves all the time." Master Chief flicked at some of the twisted metal, "I don't think Mickey D's will like to see you busting up his precious store."

"No waste any more time!" a tiny voice belted, as the trio looked up to the top of the shelf to see Goro'maar perched atop the shelves, pointing a box of cereal at them emphatically.

"Hey peanut, why don't you stop makin' a mess up there and maybe Sar-Jay will consider your demand as a favor," he barked back, referring to himself in the third person.

"…And stop waving that around, you'll get that Count Chocula all over the place! Last thing we need is to clean chocolate bits you scatter around," Chief added.

"Chocolate bits? This 'chocolate' you speak of comes in a solid consumable as well!" Arbiter asked in utter disbelief.

"Whoa, keep your pants… uh… I mean…" Chief stammered, scanning the clothes-less body of the Arbiter, "…Calm down."

Feeling impatient, Goro'maar threw the box down at them, plunking the arbiter in the head, which did not even as much cause a flinch. The box harmlessly bounced off his head, although got his attention, as Goro'maar started shouting, "You all shut up and get to work! Or… or…"

"Oh, watch out! The little guy might beat us up!" Johnson quipped.

"Hmph! Well then Goro tell judge you not live up to agreement! Flashy human will be really popular in prison!"

Johnson gasped, "He's right! I'm way too attractive to survive in prison!" Johnson grumbled in disappointment as he grabbed his mop, "You win this time meatball. Just pray you don't see me again once I'm finished cleaning this place!"

Master Chief, grabbed his broom as well, and without any word, walked away, staring up at Goro'maar as he passed. The Arbiter, still standing there, looked left and right in hesitation, before furtively going back through the hole he'd walked through in the shelves. Although on his way out, he plucked up one of the boxes of Count Chocula on the shelf, and made a quick and embarrassed escape.

Watching them part ways without much for incident, Goro nodded his tiny head as if he were impressed with himself. "Goro can get used to this!"

"Well that was nice to see, I think I may be in the twilight zone!" Cortana suddenly spouted out, as Chief continued heading down the grocery aisle. "You managed to keep your mouth shut, and not get us into any more trouble. I can't believe it!"

"Don't worry, I will make it up to you, do not fret!" Chief shouted out with all the confidence in the world.

"…What? I don't want you to owe me anything like that! I'm perfectly fine with nothing!"

"Oh, but Corty – you see, Goro'maar shall see the true ability of good ole' Master Chief – by the time I'm done with him, I'll be using him as a therapy ball. It's got to be done," he lectured as if the campaign against the small grunt were a no-brainer.

"C…Corty…" she responded in a defeated tone. "You know Chief… I'd like to think that prison isn't going to be a very nice place to go. So before you decide to sabotage the one individual who could put you away for a very long time – I'd like you to upload me to a vending machine, or possibly that little kids ride outside the shopping center…"

"You mean the 'Pillarette of Autumn'? You'd want to be ridden on a daily basis?" Chief stopped and chortled, "Oo, that didn't sound right!"

"Oh, be mature! It's just anything would be better than prison with you!" she barked.

"Don't worry about that, the all-out assault is fool proof. I shall enact my revenge, all while maintaining my destiny as employee of the month," he explained, placing his hands on his hips to strike a pose – looking into the sky through the large hole in the wall, to allow the light to glisten off of his helmet in an impressive fashion.

"Ugh… How could you possibly do that? Good employees don't enact revenge on their superiors!"

"Not directly! Now see, I'll just have Arby and Johnson do the dirty work! I'll mastermind everything, then when one or both of them go to prison, I win employee of the month by default and Goro'maar feels my wrath at the same time!"

Cortana groaned, "Chief… you're surprisingly sinister you know. I take it you have a plan in mind already…?"

"Nope!" Chief spouted out, "I was hoping that you could take what I just told you, and fill in all the blanks! Piece of cake, right?"

Cortana couldn't respond, none of her algorithms had any suitable response for his brick-headed request.