HALO: A shot in the dark

[Gladiator0161]

Onboard UNSC Capital Ship Hercules
Location: Earth's Lower Atmosphere

2 hours from mission briefing

The ship floated silently amidst the grey white clouds in Earth's lower atmosphere, the longsword fighters flying in their patrol routes like an army of bees protecting their hive. The thrum of their powerful turbines making the air shake with their own thunder. Admiral Bane looked out his viewport and sighed, it had been a long, bloody, and costly war. The Covenant had glassed the outer rim worlds like Harvest before making their way in system. Very little had been able to slow them down but, they had won a few essential battles. The loss of Reach had been the breaking point for most of the civilians and a few of the military personnel. Even the military brass felt the affects of Reach, though they were never allowed to show it publicly. They had to keep up moral. It seemed for awhile that the Covenant wouldn't find Earth, that the Cole Protocol had actually exceeded expectations in keeping their last world secret from the the butchers of the Covenant and their holy war. Then they found it anyway.

They hadn't come in force and it was generally agreed upon that the Covenant had just stumbled into the sector. The UNSC had quickly destroyed the Covenant ship, though they still retained heavy casualties. In the blink of an eye they'd lost two Orbiting MAC Gun Stations to Covenant bombs, and had it not been for Sierra 117, or Master Chief, and Cortana, they surely would've lost a third. Then before they could destroy a lone Covenant Cruiser that had been hovering over New Mombasa, it jumped, taking Captain Keyes ship along with Sierra 117 and Cortana along with it. That was when they picked up another ship on the far side of the moon, heading straight for New York City.

Admiral Bane had been ordered to muster the remaining troops and followed them, find out what they were after and stop them at whatever cost. That was exactly what he planned to do. "Anything yet lieutenant?" He asked the tactical ops officer, when he confirmed in the negative Bane simply rubbed his chin and mutered "Why are they just sitting there? Are they a diversion?" He knew his crew were wondering the same thing and he planned to give them the answers they sought.

"Well, while they're making themselves at home, we might as well take advantage of this little dry spell. Get the marines, ODST's and Spartans to the briefing room now" Admiral Bane flipped a pocket open and brought out a cigar and lighter "We're going duck hunting"

Location: Hallway, on section E 12

A spartan walked the halls in blue armor, the emblem of a black Gladiator's helmet with a gold background on his shoulder and chest, his own helmet held the gold V shaped visor of a scout. He was a sniper, and one of the best around. He'd came to be known as simply "Gladiator", due to his proficiency in killing Covenant, both from a distance, shooting them specifically in the head, and in melee combat. He was part of the third series of Spartans. Ofcourse he'd always added in his serial number when reporting for duty. He was the strong silent type. Right now, he had no duties to attend to so he simply stalked the halls, keeping himself alert and ready. He'd already memorized the layout of the Hercules but, felt that actually walking the length and breadth of it would do him some good in the down time. He'd been on countless missions against the Covenant. Before Reach had been glassed he'd been on Harvest fighting for the lives of every man, woman and child on the planet in the hopes that they could slow the Covenant down and let innocents escape. They'd succeeded in a sense. Whereas millions could have been glassed and wiped from the face of the universe, they'd survived but, thousands of others still lost their lives. There had been no time for remorse though, they'd had to escape the planet themselves, and retreat to fight another day. Then when Reach had been attacked he'd been assigned to a ship that was to reinforce the thousands fighting there.

A soft bump broke him from his reverie and Gladiator looked up to find himself faceplate to faceplate with another Spartan, a female judging from her stance. Realizing he'd bumped into her and that he was now outside the galley he stepped back and said in his rich deep voice "Sorry, I'm a little distracted" before giving her the sign of a smile, his index and middle finger splaying out to point out eyes on his faceplate, before drawing a curving line to indicate a smiling mouth. It was the closest thing to an emotional outburst that a Spartan displayed usually. Even a simple handshake could be dangerous to a normal Human, so most of them were extremely reserved about physical contact with anybody. Given the circumstances involved in a Spartan's development, most people understood why.

"Excuse me" Gladiator said gently before moving past her and into the galley.

[Hunter]

His designation was Spartan-132, known only among his brothers and sisters as Lance.   He was dressed in dark purple armor, his helmet currently slung under one arm as he headed for mission briefing.   He'd long since drifted into the position of a Scout, a pistol on each hip and his assault rifle slung across his back.

He padded nearly noiselessly even now, making a detour to pick up a bottle of water from the mess hall.   He uncapped it, tossing the cap into the recycler without even looking at it.   He took a good sized swig, exchanging nods as he went.

[Gladiator0161]

Gladiator walked into the galley and took in everyone in it, his eyes sweeping the room looking for anyone he might find familiar.
He spotted one such person, his eyes locking onto Lance coming into the galley from another entrance. Gladiator walked up behind him as he swiped a water and began to drink. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Lance spewing water in surprise. He'd served with the purple colored Spartan some years back on the 7nth Halo the UNSC had discovered. There had been heavy casualties there too but, atleast they'd had the chance to blow what must have been hundreds of Covenant to hell. He placed his hand gently on Lance's shoulder and said "Lance. How've you been?"

[Kyle989]

[Watch for links throughout the post.]

Kyle Nassir awoke from his dreams with a jerk, his right hand on the hilt of the combat knife beneath his pillow. Confirming that he was alone, he sat upright, slowly running a hand through his hair. It was short, but not cropped short like the other soldiers of the UNSC. He wasn't a soldier anyway, not really. Kyle had spent more than ten years as a mercenary and assassin, before the Covenant had shown up. His past life felt like a bad dream. Nothing he had done during those years had meant anything. Sure, he had acquired some wealth, but the years he had spent taking human lives hadn't really accomplished anything. Realizing he was holding the knife, Kyle shook his head and returned it to the sheath on his right-hand boot. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep, and he was tired of hanging around in the dark of his cabin anyway.

Kyle checked over his gear and then redressed, all in a well-timed and methodical manner. Some habits were hard to break, especially when your life quite often depended on them. Checking his military fatigues were well arranged in the mirror, the olive skinned man looked at himself, surveying his many scars while reminding himself that he was Lance Corporal Nassir now, and not an assassin. He looked into his own eyes, which looked so dark as they drank in the dim light of the cabin that they might as well have been black. Fitting, he thought.

After stepping back into his boots and making sure they were snug, Kyle donned the rest of his ODST Battle Armor piece by piece, checking the systems of his VISR before putting on his helmet. Satisfied that his BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) was in good order (he didn't need military protocol to teach him the importance of such things), Lance Corporal Nassir strapped on his weapons: a pair of M6C pistols, and a pair of M7S SMGs along with an assortment of knives. Finally, the Trooper was out the door to find something to do other than lay around. At least I look pretty damn good in this armor... Kyle thought with a smirk.

[The Golden Touch]

Breathing slowly, she watched the stars outside the small window.  There was a feeling of restlessness on board ships, and Adelaine, or Addie, as most knew her- hated being where she was not useful.  As a Spartan III, she and her comrades were a whole other class of special.  The training they're been taken brutally through from a young age had adapted their bodies into machines.  They moved faster, thought quicker and reacted instantaneously to situations where their lives were at stake.  Addie had forgotten how old she was now, and how many missions she had been on since Reach.  It did not matter really, only the current mission, the here and now.  Her facial expression behind the face plate of her helmet was grim- ready for Death.

She stepped through a doorway, always feeling the urge to duck when she passed through them.  In the MJOLNIR armor, she stood seven plus feet tall. Her black armor was dull in the overhead lights, devoid of symbol or other.  It swallowed most light, not giving off much of a reflection at this point in time.  Addie moved surefooted through the decks towards the briefing room.  As concentrated as she was, one of the other Spartans on deck was not.  She put up her hands, slowing his forward motion with a bump- barely using any strength as it was.  Face plate to face plate, she nodded to him, accepting his words.  Returning the smile with a flick of her fingers, she stepped aside for him to enter first. 

Eyes on the hallway, she waited.  Everyone was gathering- albeit slowly at that but she soon saw the second Spartan she was watching for.  With Lance present, she followed him into the room.  He was one of the few that walked around sans helmet.  She did not, for want of not being stared at by the ODSTs and marines like she had two heads.  They didn't like the Spartans, and she tried not to rile them any further when forced to catch a ride somewhere via cruiser.

[Aiden]

Gunnery Sergeant "Sling" Desmond Rockwell

Desmond Rockwell made his way slowly towards the briefing room, the Texas born native joined up before he was even born or so his father told the tail as he had been moving from world to world, ship to ship since his dad's days back in Texas with his pregnant mother. Truth was he was born on a ship in deep space but like hell that would show up on his birth certificate. Now a man of twenty-five and on his own, he followed his parents foot steps and became a marine and one hell of a good one. He was the epitome of the ODST, patriotic, loyal, deadly and most of all a little psychotic.

The dark haired, green eyed marine (When his helmet was off) walked, his armor was a literal portable armory. Strapped to his hips he held his babies from the very first threats of the Covenant, the dual M6D Magnum Sidearms with zoom-scope slung at his hips. Across his chest he had four M6G Magnums lining his chest in case he need to swap out guns and did not have the time to reload. Resting on his shoulders he had mounted a pair of Maulers to draw if he was in need of more fire power and his true but (worthless) trophy was the unpowered energy blade he confiscated from an Elite who was lunging at him and was caught between the eyes with his quick draw.

"You boys can go home now, ODST is here"
The helmet's polarized visor went clear to reveal the stern look on his face he always kept across his features. Like all ODST, he hated waiting around for orders to go kick ass. His trigger fingers were already inching for a fight and he wanted to get an early start on his kill count.

[Hunter]

"Busy."  Lance lifted the hand with the bottle to tap knuckles.   "While you lazy snipers just lay around, us poor scouts run ourselves ragged."   He jerked his head in the direction that he'd been going and then started walking.   "I'm on the way to brief right now."   He took another drink of his water, leaving random conversation as rest for the moment.    All Spartans were brothers and sisters on a level that didn't require explanation.  At this moment, his mind was on the mission that they were about to undertake.

[Gladiator0161]

Gladiator rapped knuckles with Lance and gave a snort to the Spartan's jeer "Yeah and maybe you scouts wouldn't be running yourselves ragged if you were quieter, like us snipers" a grin plainly evident in his deep voice. The Spartan swiped a water bottle from the counter and walked after the dark purple colored Spartan. "I'm on my way to brief right now" Lance explained simply before taking a drink of his water.

"Yeah, same" Everyone in the UNSC was family, sure everyone had their own groups but, everyone in those groups were brothers. It didn't matter if you were a ODST, Marine or Spartan, in the heat of the moment, everyone helped each other out.
It was a bond that was difficult to explain. If someone broke that sacred trust though, they were the outsiders, shunned by everyone. The Spartan's in general though, were viewed like distant cousins, or second cousins by some, and just like real families some cousins were closer than others. Gladiator grew to his customary silence as they walked on, his mind caught on two subjects both with equal importance to him personally. One was the mission to come. The other was of a more personal nature. Relationships. He didn't have any of a personal sort and that's what was eating at him now. Ofcourse, technically relationships of that kind weren't allowed but, everyone knew that the brass tended to look the other way now-a-days, especially now with the future of humanity at stake.

A few turns and an elevator ride later they approached the briefing room and Gladiator swept the troublesome thoughts from his mind.
The doors whisked open at their approach, revealing a man in his later forties. A glance at his service stripes revealed a thirty year veteran, while a glance at his rank insignia revealed the rank of an Admiral. The Spartan instantly snapped into a salut "Sir, Gladiator0161 reporting sir, as requested." The Admiral snapped a salut back "at ease gentlemen, you're early. I like that. Make yourselves comfortable while everyone else arrives. You've got a long mission ahead of you and I won't have you standing around like statues." Gladiator just nodded and walked over to an empty space of wall, leaned against it and crossed his arms.

With that the Admiral returned to examining a holographic display of a Covenant Cruiser.

[Kyle989]

Mercifully, after meandering aimlessly for only three and a half minutes, Trooper Nassir received orders and was given something to do. The orders came in the form of a message sent to his helmet's VISR. It was addressed to "Rook", his call-sign when out on missions with the rest of his four-man squad. The men of his squad (Knight, Bishop, and King) sometimes called him 'Rookie' because he was the lowest ranking one among them, but mostly they did so just to piss him off. Kyle wasn't very well-liked by his squad-mates. He wasn't a soldier, he wasn't one of them. In fact, Rook had been informed that he would soon be assigned to a new squad. So, when the message from HIGHCOM splayed out across the inside of his visor told him that he was the only one from his squad assigned to this certain mission, he wasn't very surprised. He was a little surprised that it had happened so fast however. He had been expecting it to take the Top Brass several months to switch him out into a new squad... Reading further, Rook realized he wasn't officially being moved yet, but nevertheless he had been picked for a special mission, one that even a few Spartans were involved in. Mission briefing in five, he reminded himself as he finished soaking in the contents of his orders.

Exactly one minute later, Rook entered the room were his mission briefing was to begin. Someone was saying something about being quiet "...like us snipers." The ODST found that interesting, doubly reassured by the weight of his rucksack. The armored backpack was invaluable to soldiers, able to hold a surprising amount. Kyle's currently stored his broken-down SRS99D-S2 AM sniper rifle, several clips of ammunition, and a few medical supplies. Knight, Bishop, and King hadn't exactly been the subtle type. At least there will be someone on this mission who appreciates stealth. Kyle slipped through the doors and took a seat without a word. Behind his maroon-colored visor, he studied the others, particularly the Spartans. They certainly looked impressive. Still, he made no comment, keeping his thoughts to himself unless invited to share them, like he always did.

[Hunter]

Lance finally got the briefing room, finding an unoccupied chair and settling into it.   He set his helmet on the seat next to him and then finished his bottle of water in silence, waiting for the briefing to begin.

[Gladiator0161]

Onboard UNSC Flagship Hercules

Ten minutes before mission start[/i]

The Admiral looked around and sighed, more than thirty men lined the room and probably not even half of them would make it back.
It was a terrible cost but, these men would save thousands with their intelligence. Admiral Bane looked to each and every one of them, memorizing their faces and the color of their armors and the designs painted onto them. He knew every man by name and he already regretted it. He mentally prayed and then looked up as the last man arrived "Alright men, here's the situation. There's a Covenant Cruiser hovering over down town New York City. We don't know what it's doing or what it's purpose is. Your mission to drop onto the Cruiser, find out it's objective and then destroy it. Your mission starts in ten minutes, grab your gear and report to the drop bay. You're dismissed and good hunting out there."

Gladiator stood up straight and saluted smartly "Yes sir" he said briefly before walking out of the briefing room and to a armory around the corner. The blue and gold Spartan looked over the weapons for a second Assualt Rifles, M5 Battle Rifles, MK6 Sniper Rifles, Rocket Launchers, Spartan Lasers, Plasma and Frag Grenades as well as an assortment of other weapons sat in their respective shelves just begging to be used. Gladiator grabbed a MK 6 Sniper Rifle and ten extra ammo packs and stuffed them in his belt. He slid the Sniper Rifle into place on a magnetic compartment on his back and then picked up a M5 Battle Rifle and ten extra ammo packs for that. Walking over to the grenades he smiled, he loved these things, soon enough 6 Frag grenades, 6 Plasma Grenades and 4 Brute Grenades went into his belt. Gladiator walked over to a nearby elevator and got in, pressing a button that lead to the 48th floor.

The elevator shot down, the familiar sensation of momentary weightlessness overcoming him. When the lift stopped, it did so with a small jerk, a moment later the doors opened and Gladiator0161 walked out into the darkened drop bay area. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before moving any further. The bay was in full commotion marines and ODST's running in every which way to grab last minute weapons and get to their "drop pods". The drop bay itself consisted of both walls lined with single occupant exoatmospheric insertion vehicles, the strict military types called them SOEIV's, everybody else just called them 'drop pods', a small armory and little else.

Having already chosen his weapons of choice, Gladiator walked over to a SOEIV, pressed the button that would open the hatch and got in.
Now all there was to do was to wait for everyone to report in, the hatch to close and the mission to begin.

[Kyle989]

Kyle studied the faces, insignias, armors, and weapons as the room filled with more and more soldiers. He noted, and not for the first time, how there was a subtle sense of segregation amongst the more than thirty UNSC men around him. The Spartans kept to the fore of the room for the most part, seated at the head of the briefing room's table or leaning against the wall. Several ODSTs had congregated around the middle of the table around Rook, giving him an unfamiliar sense of fellowship. Finding that he rather liked the taste of fitting in, Rook angled himself towards them, no longer using his chair and his shoulders as a barrier. He found them all looking at him, their visors opaqued to reveal the faces beneath. Deactivating the polarization of his own visor, Rook gave them a quick nod of recognition that seemed to be well-received. The less distinguished, or perhaps merely less infamous crowd of infantry-men lined the back of the room, eyeing the shock troopers and cyborgs with expressions ranging from admiration to contempt. When it came down to it though, Kyle knew each and every one of them would pull together in order to accomplish the mission. If there was reasonable doubt to the contrary then they wouldn't have been chosen for it. ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence) operated under a guise of ambiguity, but they were incredibly keen on proficiency, and Trooper Nassir was certain this mission was the orchestration of an ONI "spook".  That explains why I'm here then. I've worked with -no- for them before...

Kyle redirected his focus to the front of the room, meeting the Admiral's eyes through the maroon sheen of his visor. He listened intently as the man finally revealed the situation for which they had all been gathered. The intel was scant to say the least, but Rook was starting to get accustomed to such brief briefings. Compared to the careful and often tedious planning he had operated by as an assassin, fighting in a war was a no-brainer. Following the rest of the men to the armory, Kyle made a point of securing extra ammunition and a few more grenades than he typically carried. Next, he made his way down to the drop-bay, reaching it in record time. The Helljumper hadn't had time to explore much of the Hercules, but he was naturally very familiar with the flagship's bays and operation of the SOEIV 'drop pods'. Strapping into a pod next to a fellow ODST, Rook waited for the mission to begin. He returned a thumbs-up to a pair of Helljumpers settling in to his right, looking forward to the mission despite himself. Maybe it's time this lone-wolf learned how to hunt with the pack after all... he mused.

[Hunter]

Lance remained silent through the briefing and walked without preamble to the armory, selecting a pair of Covenant Energy Rifles from the rear of the armory as well as a quartet of plasma grenades.   He didn't make a sound as he padded from the armory to the drop bay.

Lance went to his drop pod and entered immediately, knowing that he'd be the first to enter and probably the first to engage the enemy.   He activated the pod then braced his feet, Energy Rifles in hand and ready.

[Hunter Phoenix]

Spartan 435 - Hunter was listening during the briefing, he had branched off to stand with the other two Spartans rather than stand with the normal infantry.

His black and red armour glistened in the artificial light of the war room, his helmet was also black and red, his two favourite colours. When he had first become a Spartan, he had been given standard battle armour that was green and brown in colour but he had modified it to what he liked, so it had become black and red instead, meaning he was good at night fighting, able to strike from the shadows and then bend back in before anyone or anything knew what was happening.

Once the briefing was over, he went to the armoury and selected his usual battle rifle and shotgun, then he was ready to go, going to the drop pod area, he strapped into his pod and waited to be dropped onto the target zone, this was going to be one intense fight. He couldn't wait.

[Gladiator0161]

Decent into Hell part 1: Newly Divided

Onboard UNSC Flagship Hercules:

Mission Status: Mission Commenced

Decent into Hell: Newly Divided. part 1

The warning klaxon's blared as red lights circled in their protective transparent containers, telling everyone that a drop was imminent. Gladiator checked his weapons and spare ammunition, making sure they were secure. Then checked the registered members of the mission on his HUD, counting off the people that he saw were there. He raised his hand and shut the door to his SOEIV drop pod and strapped himself in. Unless a pod had some sort of weight in it, human, weapons, or ammo, the locking mechanism wouldn't be released and the pod would remain suspended in it's bay and the trap door shut. It was a fail-safe, in case any would-be saboteurs  tried to place a bomb in one and destroy the ship. The sensors on and above the locking mechanisms were so precise they'd be able to detect a single pound of weight in the interior of the pod.

Ofcourse if anyone was late to the party, then the deck controller would have to release the pod manually. It happened once in a while but, not very often. Reporting late to duty could land you in serious trouble, even for a Spartan.

Gladiator looked down as the trap door below him was pulled back, the mechanical parts in the floor whirring and moaning with the effort until he heard the shunk of the locking mechanism engage to hold the plate in place so the SOEIV would have a clear path. The blue and gold armored sniper looked through the floor of his drop pod in awe. No matter how many times he made a high altitude drop, he was always amazed at the beauty beneath him. Even if it was mostly just clouds, it was beautiful. He could just barely make out the silver form of something looking like a whale from this height. A lone Covenant cruiser just as they'd been told in the briefing room, hung silently over a canyon of steel and glass.

A moment later another sound announced itself, this time a loud clank! as the lock holding his pod in place was released. For a moment he thought the locking mechanism might have malfunctioned, as a moment of weightlessness enshrouded him. A second later though, it was as if all his internal organs had shifted from their natural locations to the inside his throat, the G-forces taking hold and ripping him downward toward the planet's surface. The wind outside screamed like a fairy tale wraith or ghost, and water pelted his pod as he approached the top most layer of clouds. He looked up for a moment and saw other SOEIV's dropping from the bay. For a moment, the black drop pods almost seemed to blot out the underbelly of the Hercules. Then they disappeared as his pod fell through the clouds enshrouded by a world of gray, water pelting the armored exterior of his craft making a slight hissing sound. He looked down again. It was almost disorienting, nothing but gray, and the feel of the wind as it tried to buffet his SOEIV off course.

His hands firmly on the controls to either side of him, he made minor course corrections as he punched through the top layer of clouds at ridiculous speeds. It was like the worlds biggest roller coaster enhanced with jet fuel. Quite the adrenaline rush. For a moment his brain screamed to get the hell out of there as the danger set in upon him once again, but, his training kicked in and calmed his rapidly beating heart. He still had miles to go, but it would only take seconds to transverse to the RV point. He kicked in the afterburners on the bottom of the pod, slowing his decent to something less than terminal. He glanced around and saw that everyone was still with him, then a blue light caught his eye.

Air rippled around the font of the Covenant Cruiser and exploded into a frenzy of lightning and sparks as the neurons in the air discharged. The Covenant Cruiser's engines glowed brightly a second later and pushed the great craft through the transparent opening.

"Everybody prepare yourselves for emergency crash landings!! This bitch is jumping out!" he found himself shouting into the TEAMCOM as the nose of the great silver craft pushed through the ever widening opening into slipspace. A second later the Cruiser disappeared and the warp field collapsed, the result of the natural forces being ripped open and then closed just as suddenly resulted in a concussion wave that flattened the buildings beneath like paper, and bent the ones surrounding it like a child with a doll. As the wave approached his pod, Gladiator prayed that some of his men would make it out of the drop alive. Then something smashed into his pod with a horrifying bang! and scrunching sound, denting in the door and almost pinning him to his seat. The impact sent the pod spiraling uncontrollably. Ground, sky and water spun randomly about outside, as the Spartan desperately worked his controls to stabilize the out of control SOEIV. Blackness started to creep into his vision but, he batted it away, he couldn't lose consciousness now, his life and the life of his men depended on it. The elements outside dissagreed. The wind was screaming louder than before, unleashing all it's terrifying rage on the free falling peice of metal and the single occupant inside, now that his door had been bent inward from the impact of another drop pod. He couldn't tell if he was over the target zone or not. A moment later he blacked out, unable to grapple with the G-forces any longer.

Seconds later his pod hit something more solid than itself and bounced. The pod flew through the air, impacting upon the pavement of the street and bounced again, leaving a large scar in the mixture of concrete and tar as it hit. It punched through an abandoned diesel truck like a heavily armored bullet through paper, as gravity took hold once again and pulled it down to the earth, it impacted again, this time throwing it's occupant clear, along with the wrecked remains of the door. Gladiator landed on an abandoned car and smashed it's roof flat, either end of the car bowing upward as glass and steel were ejected from it's doors. The SOEIV continued onward smashing cars and signs as it's momentum carried it further into the city. Finally it punched through the side of a building, throwing concrete, bricks and glass everywhere, the impact like that of a bomb going off. The pod was on fire and it was banged all to hell, the entrance to it was bowed terribly trapping it's precious cargo, the MK5 Battle Rifle and the M 6 Sniper Rifle. It's damage was so extensive, not even an average sized man could fit in it now.

Finally, everything went quiet.

[Old Lady Willow]

"Woo! Here we go!" Jack, one of the ODSTs shouted right before the concussion wave hit his drop pod. He'd always been one for enjoying the adrenalen rush from dangerous situations. He made a few ajustments to his corse direction just at the wave hit, sending his pod out of controll. The world spun, sky and earth rotating so quickly that he couldn't tell which way was up any more. He eased the pod out of the rotation, slowing it to the point where he could actually see what was going on. Looking down, he saw another pod, one with a huge dent in it, falling toward the ground, spinning even worse than his had just a moment before. He made his own pod to follow it, not wanting to leave whoever it was inside left to die th the crash. Of corse, he'd be crashing himself, but probibly not as badly as the other one. He pulled more out of the spin, letting the pod fall vertacally as to try and land around the same place as the damaged pod. It wasn't easy, but it could be done. He was near the ground now, and going way too fast for comfort. He laughed, loving the chalenge, the way his heart pounded. He wondered if they'd let him keep his position as a ODST if they ever discovered his adrenalen adiction? He landed hard, leaving a large dent in the ground as his pod bounced once, two, three times. He opened the pod and crawled out, streaching his arms. He glanced at the now ruined pod, flinching at it's condision. "Don't think this one'll be used again." He muttered to himself. He'd hit his head really hard. He'd probibly had gotten a concusion had he not had his helmat on. His leg also hurt, but he could handle it. He looked around. He'd managed to land near where he thought the other pod would land, but the qusetion was, now where to look? Ah, there it was. He went over to it, flinching at the pain in his leg. It was empty. A little more searching, and he found the car, and the person laying on it. He lightly prodded the body with his finger, reconizing him. "Hey, Gladiator. You okay?"

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter had been silently waiting for his pod to land so he could fire, and swore inside his helmet when he was hit with the wave from the jump, he hadn't expected it and he blacked out as his pod flew somewhere into the city.

When he awoke, he was upside down in his pod, his head was killing from a newly formed massive headache and his pod was battered, broken and, if he was any judge, he was now stuck until someone found him.

"Just great" he muttered to himself.

He was dangling for a little while before he got really annoyed and bored about it, so he grabbed his rifle and started butting the pod with it, eventually it gave and opened up, dropping him on his head on the solid ground. He got over his headache fairly quickly, holding his rifle and looking around, he was in a hell of an area, debris and broken building lying everywhere, metal girders and piles of rubble that had once being part of something before the jump of the covenant ship had wrecked it all.

He tried the comms built into his helmet, but they must have been damaged in the crash because he wasn't picking anyone up nearby and no one responded either. He picked up his shotgun and slung it over his shoulder, hefted his rifle and set off looking for anyone that came down in the pods with him.

[Hunter]

Lance was barely out of the pod when a clutch of grunts had the unfortunate displeasure of stumbling across him.    With quick efficiency, the twin plasma rifles tore into the surprised Covenant unit.  The staccato sound of energy rifle fire drowned out any cries of pain, silence settling as quickly as it was broached.

"Contact."   Spartan-132 called over the radio, his NAV beacon flashing three times before winking out.   As he waited for the others to converge, he simply watched and waited.   Any other Covenant troops would likewise be put down in short order.

[Gladiator0161]

The darkness lifted bringing in pain and light to his conscious mind. His body hurt but, not to the extent that it would cripple him. A massive headache assaulted his head, if he was lucky he'd have a good sized cut that hadn't broken bone. The other possibility was that he had a concussion. He could hear something moving toward him. He made no movements, just in case it was one of the aliens belonging to the Covenant. He knew his helmet was still on, he could feel the reassuring feeling of the padded metal touching the back of his skull. He cracked open an eye as the thing approached, judging from it's size it was either a Brute or another Spartan. He closed his eyes again, letting the dizziness fade as he pushed the headache to the back of his mind.

"Hey, Gladiator. You okay?" a moment later something prodded him with what felt like a finger. He recognized the voice. Thankfully, it was another Spartan. He sat up slowly, the car's crushed hood whining with the movement. "Yeah, I'm fine. How's everyone else? Have you heard or seen anyone from the drop?" he said checking himself over, gently touching himself starting at his chest and moving to his stomach. His self examination revealed a couple of bruised ribs. That wasn't good. If he took any hammering from a Brute or a glancing blow from a Hunter, his ribs would break. He looked at his arms and legs and checked their movement. Good, nothing broken in his extremities. Next thing he checked was his weapons. He still had his grenades, his Rifle ammunition and his combat knife, which was more like a short sword to a normal sized Human but, his Battle Rifle and his Sniper Rifle were gone.

He sighed and jumped down from his twisted cushion of metal, rubber and electrical wiring "and where's my pod? I need my weapons."

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter had been silently stalking a raiding party of grunts and a couple of elites when the little gadget on his wrist went off, the little bleeping sound alerted the party ahead that he was there. He instantly sprang into action, popping off two grunts with his rifle before having to duck into cover as a tirade of fire came his way.

He sprang into action as the fire died down, he jumped high into the air, higher than a normal human could manage, and he killed another three grunts, coming down and rifle butting the last grunt in the face, crushing its skull and killing it instantly, then he picked up a plasma grenade from its corpse and threw it at the elite as it dived away from him, the grenade missed by inches, landing quite a distance away and exploding in a burst of plasma.

He shook his head in annoyance and ran after the elite before it could get away and alert any other raiding parties of his presence. He fired at it with his rifle till he ran out of ammo, the small shield around the elite shimmering as bullets hit it. Throwing his rifle away his hefted his shotgun in his hands and ran faster, soon catching up to the covenant member. He butted it with his rifle, then kicked at it, which knocked it over and shattered the shield, then he fired a round from his shotgun full into its face, destroying its head and most of its upper body.

He then checked his arm device and saw that it was a locator beacon that had been activated a short way away from where he was currently positioned, so he put his shotgun back over his shoulder and picked up the twin energy rifles the elite had been using, they were a little depleted of plasma, but they would do for now. He set off looking for a way back to the main party.

[Old Lady Willow]

Jack felt relief when he responded, glad that his teamate was more or less alright. "No, sir. You're the only one I've found." He steped back, giving Gladiator room to examan himself. "As for your pod.... I'm afraid it'd damaged beond repair. There's no getting into it ether." He gestured in the derction of the still burning pod. "I have a few weapons left in my own pod, you're welcome to ues them." A pause, "I'm keeping the flame thrower, though." It was a weapon he'd made himself, and he wasn't about to let anyone else use it unless it was life or death. Well, it was life or death, but it didn't hang on the weapon at this point.

[Gladiator0161]

"No, sir. You're the only one I've found. As for your pod.... I'm afraid it'd damaged beyond repair. There's no getting into it ether" the other Spartan replied gesturing in it's general direction, and stepping back a little to give Gladiator some room. Gladiator worked his arms as he listened to his fellow team mate.

"I'd like to take a look anyway, maybe there's a way I can get my weapons out. After all, I left a Sniper Rifle back there and it should come in handy in our current situation" he said beginning to walk in the direction of his downed pod. He flipped through the emergency frequencies on his COM. Nothing but static reported back. He'd keep trying anyway, it was possible that somewhere out there, surviving team members could be close enough to hear him.

He looked back to the Spartan accompanying him "What's your call sign son?"

[Old Lady Willow]

He followed Gladiator, trying not to limp too much. "They call me Raven, sir." Truthfully, he really didn't like that name, but it really didn't matter. 'What's in a name?' as they say. He made a quick trip back to his pod to grab his weapons. Wouldn't want them to get stolen, after all.

[Gladiator0161]

The air was strangely silent as he waited for Raven to rejoin him after gathering his weapons. It shouldn't have been as creepy as it was. New York City encompassed an even larger area than it had originally. It was considered a Mega City now, and held at-least a billion people.
Now, it was silent, except for the wind whistling past the pillars of steel and glass, and whatever aircraft was passing over. It was a ghost city.

Gladiator looked around and waited for Raven to collect his weapons before continuing on to his drop pod. With any luck, they'd be clear of enemies for the next ten minutes or so. He wanted just enough time to retrieve his Battle Rifle and Sniper Rifle. Raven came back a few minutes later, toting a Flamethrower, two pistols, and a energy bladed dagger. Gladiator was surprised at the light armament but, didn't say anything, a second later they continued on towards the crash site. The SOEIV had left a pretty good trail of destruction in it's path, making it pathetically easy to find. Crushed cars with torn off hoods, signs snapped in half had dug into the walls of nearby buildings, not to mention the road. It was dotted with impact craters and cracks spider-webbed their way all over the street. Finally a long scar of torn up and heated concrete and tar marked his pod's location. Unfortunately it had drawn the attention of the Covenant nearby. Gladiator counted 8 Grunts, 4 Jackals and two Elites, a decent sized force.

Gladiator hefted two of his plasma grenades, one in each hand and looked to Raven. "What do you say? Think we can take them?" he said, sarcasm evident in his voice. Ofcourse they could take them, they were Spartans after all.

[Old Lady Willow]

Raven nodded, "Of corse we can!" He pulled out one of his own plasma grenades, and a fully loaded pistol. He liked the smaller weapons, keeping himself light, making it easier to move around. He activated the grenade and tossed it toward the group. It landed at the feet of one of the Grunts. The grenade went off, the explosion tearing it apart. Laughing, he ran out infront of them, pulling out his energy dagger as he did so. He meant to draw atention to himself, giving Gladiator a chance to strike. One of the Jackles fired at him, and it hit his shoulder. He swore, but the damage was only skin deep, thanks to the armur.