Story 2

"Foe Hammer's going down with the Banshee hot on her tail. In a desperate attempt for survival, she opens the Pelican's rear bay door and makes her way to the back. When the Banshee is close enough behind her, Foe Hammer makes a stupendous leap onto the shiny irridescent hull of the purple Covenant craft.

She quickly slips on the smooth surface but manages to grab hold of the stubby wing, tightening her knuckle-white grip as the craft accelerates into a loop in an attempt to get rid of this unwanted hitchhiker. Foe Hammer's resolve, however, never wavers, and with her superhuman strength manages to pry open the Banshee's hatch door in mid-flight.

A menacing blue Elite pilot is exposed and utters a guttural growl of disapproval. He sets the Banshee to auto-pilot and turns to face his opponent. As the craft flies over the desert-like terrain on which the Pillar of Autumn now rests like a fallen giant, the two pilots engage in hand-to-hand combat, a deadly grapple for victory.

The Elite pulls out a plasma rifle and points it point blank at his enemy. Foe Hammer double-flips over the alien, landing behind him, and swiftly performs a sweep kick. The Elite succumbs to the depths below.

Now Foe Hammer slips into position in this most foreign of cockpits. She instantly adopts the basics of the instrumentations and engages manual control, racing for the Longsword fighter she sees rocketing toward the sky. Trailing the Longsword, however, is another object: 343 Guilty Spark. Foe Hammer goes into an intercept course, opens the hatch, and makes another death-defying leap, this time onto the floating orb.

"Th-this is most unnacceptable," 343 sputters as Foe Hammer clings onto the overly-polite ball with both hands. She sees on him what appears to be a panel and uses one hand to force it open. Foe Hammer - jack of all trades, doer of anything - somehow manages to hack into Guilty Spark's systems via this access panel, all while clinging hundreds of feet off the ground. She learns of 343's teleportation ability and, through a clever feat of reverse-engineering, beams herself to the coordinates she estimated the Longsword should be at by now.

She appears, just as she had hoped, right inside the Longsword. Before her stands a now unmasked and most surprised Master Chief. Foe Hammer, John 117, and Cortana then partake in a steamy three-way. The End."

By: Doggone from HBO forums

Story 3

"Foe Hammer glances at her instruments once more. Nervously checking her radar, she cuts around the stern of the downed Pillar of Autumn. Cortana demanded "immediate extraction," and by Jove, Foe Hammer is going to provide it. Her second motto--after "We deliver," of course--is "We specialize in immediate extractions."

A small blip fades onto the cracked radar screen. Foe Hammer eyes it in consternation--a Covenant Banshee! Immediately, she takes evasive action; cutting into a scar torn into the Autumn's hull, she handles the war-worn Pelican like an ace. The enemy Banshee shrieks by, outsmarted by this clever sleight-of-hand.

Nosing the Pelican forward, Foe Hammer peers out of the grimy cockpit windows. All seems well; nothing disturbs the smog and sands which stretch off as far as the mind can reach. She decides to wait a couple more minutes, until she deems the threat to be nonexistent.

The radio springs to life.
"Cortana to Echo 419! Request extraction now, on the double!"
An alarm sounds in Foe Hammer's head. What Cortana is asking for is unreasonable. It is dangerous. She shouldn't do it.

But before her doubts take over, Foe Hammer hears herself speaking, replying out of years of experience: "Affirmative, Cortana. Foe Hammer inbound." Gritting her teeth, she swings the Pelican out from its hiding place. Jamming the throttle forward, she prepares for Covenant pursuit. And she is not disappointed. One--no, two Banshees! Their screams echo across the desolate plateau as they close the distance. Foe Hammer sees that she will not make it in time; she grimaces, and braces for the inevitable strikes.

The Pelican protests as it weaves around bolts of cyan plasma, each potent enough to burn a hole in the armor-plated hull. But despite her impressive piloting skills, Foe Hammer cannot hold the Banshees off forever. Several bolts sear the starboard engines, which fuse together from the intense heat.

The radio crackles, "Cortana to Echo 419! Two Covenant Banshees are approaching on your six! Evade, say again, evade!" A vague sense of annoyance mingles with Foe Hammer's panic. Does Cortana think she is blind? Hasn't she worked her tail off for these people, shuttling them around wherever they need to--

Foe Hammer is unprepared for the explosions which rock her ship. She is thrown forward into the cockpit glass, spider webs spreading across the glass from the impact. Thick rivulets of blood stream down her face--a concussion? She thinks so. Can't hear well, mind dull...then her thoughts momentarily clear. She speaks into the dying radio receiver: "I'm hit! Mayday! Mayday! Airfoil structures have been shot to hell! I can't hold her! I can't hold her!"

She swings around in panic. What can she do? But the Banshees are all over her, and she sees the access junction come up to meet her, a lone Warthog perched atop its surface. Another explosion rocks the Pelican, and she feels herself falling. Stars explode across her vision as her body crumples against a chitinous surface. A deep, growling Elite's voice is the only thing which keeps her from blacking out. She opens her eyes.

Foe Hammer is clinging onto the wing struts of a Banshee. The Pelican is nowhere in sight. But the Banshee on which she is hanging is not a normal Banshee. It appears to have a glistening, golden coat of paint spread luxuriously across its surface. The cockpit swings open, and a blue-armored Elite climbs out. Quickly, Foe Hammer swings her legs up, vaulting onto the body of the Yellow Banshee. She delivers a quick punch to the Elite's jaws, catching it off guard. Yet it does not attack her, but glares at her instead.

"What you doing, soldier?" The voice of Sergeant Johnson is unmistakable.
"Sarge? What the...?"
"Ha ha ha ha ha! I ran into an Elite just a few minutes ago. You can't imagine how pimpin' a costume its armor made!"
"Well, then, let's get out of here immediately!"
"Climb in! This Banshee has an increased passenger capacity." Indeed, Sarge is correct; the Yellow Banshee's full leather interior is rather plush. But before Foe Hammer can audibly admire Sarge's interior decoration skills, a loud flash emanates from outside the Banshee.

"What's happening?" Foe Hammer asks.
"The Autumn...she's..."

A nuclear fireball envelopes the Yellow Banshee. But before the Banshee is destroyed from the fury of the explosion, Foe Hammer deactivates the cup holders. Sarge's can of Orange Crush spills across the cockpit, absorbing the heat from the nuclear blast which manages to break through the edges of the Banshee's sunroof.

Five minutes later, Sarge and Foe Hammer look out the cockpit window. To their disappointment, nothing is left but dust and echoes. So they fly to the nearest bar and order Margaritas."

By: Red Loser from HBO forums