HALO: A shot in the dark

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter watched as the Private worked on his helmet, she seemed to know a lot about tech that was lacking in most other people of her rank. He was grateful though and stayed silent as she worked on his new comms unit. He would need to requisition a new helmet once they got back to base.

"I knew you couldn't fix my leg, I was joking, to lighten the mood"

He heard a crackling coming from the Privates helmet, someone was using the comms but he couldn't hear what was being said because of his distance from the device, but the fact that he could hear anything coming through a unit meant that a jammer had been taken out and they could communicate over a limited distance.

"Want to maybe check your comm unit? Could be back up or a status report from Gladiator"

[TyKing]

Tech Bay Four
UNSC Flagship Hercules


The screen in front of the technician beeped, causing Matt Fry to surface from the pages of the most recent issue of Babes & Bullets. He blinked once then stared at the message that flashed across the screen.

>>UNSC COMMUNICATION/COMSEC/ENG/FRY, MATTHEW A/PFC>>BURST MODE/LOW ENCRYPTION>>

Frowning, the UNSC technician hit the display key on the console in front of him. "Aw man," Private Fry said as he read the incoming work order. "Those guys creep me out."

"Who freaks you out?"

The query originated from the other side of the small bay where another technician was putting some of the new MJOLNIR armor through a heat shield test. The technician had a shock of red hair and a liberal sprinkling of freckles which was why most of the techs called him 'Ginger' even though his name was Glenn Richards.

"Creeps me out," Matt answered. "Those ODSTs..they're all a little crazy."

"Of course they are, wouldn't you have to be a little crazy to be dropped a few thousand feet through the atmosphere in a metal pod which slams into the ground with enough force to squash your bones to powder," Ginger pointed out. "No sane person would stand for that."

"I guess, but the last time I was over there they had me playing this card game which seemed to be a cross between hearts and Russian roulette," Fry complained as he picked up his toolbelt. "Not to mention I lost a month's pay to them and had to put up with their stupid jokes about..well techs. Apparently anyone who isn't an ODST is less than perfect. Hell, they even think they're better than Spartans."

"Maybe in their dreams. You better get a move on though, don't want them annoyed with you when you get there," PFC Richards suggested.

"No kidding," Matt said before he exited the bay. "If I'm not back in two hours..come find me."

Launch Deck
ODST SOEIV Pod Bravo Victor Six

"Come on you little son of a bitc.." Fry cursed as he pulled another set of wires from the depths beneath the control panel inside the pod. His haste was due to the ODST whose pod he was repairing. The female ODST had promised to make a man out of him if he repaired her pod in a timely fashion. Fry had told the ODST that he was a marine technician and had been made a man the day he graduated from boot. This answer got plenty of laughs and led to the woman challenging him to an impromptu wrestling match which ended with her pinning him. She’d also felt him up and might have gone farther if the ship had not gone on alert and her and her fellow troopers had been called away to a briefing.

Fry had cringed when the female ODST had given him a sloppy kiss and a smack on the ass, promising to return and ‘thank him properly’ once he was finished with her pod. It was for this reason that Private Fry rushed to finish the repairs, he wanted to get the hell out of there before the ODSTs returned. The sound of yelling and war whoops outside of the pod told Fry he was too late.   

“Hey Techie Marine, you still in my pod?” Lance Corporal Grace Takomi said as she banged on the outside of the hatch with her fist. “Move over then because I’m coming inside..” She grinned and tried the latch but found the pod locked. All around her other ODSTs were climbing in their pods getting ready for their mission drop. “You need to vacate the pod, Techie,” she said, “Or be prepared to go on your first combat mission.”

Mission?! That was all he needed to hear. Matt attempted to open the pod but the controls wouldn’t respond. Oh hell. Now the warning lights were flaring and the klaxons blared. The ODST became frantic, pounding on the pod before running off to the side.

Matt’s fingers flew through the wiring, selecting the correct systems as he reached for the pliers on his tool belt and...the plating beneath the pod opened up to reveal space.

“Nooooooooo!” Matt yelled as tried to open the pod. There was a burst of static over his communications link and he had the common sense to strap himself in before PFC Fry found himself rushing towards the planet below. Earth..I’ll finally get some leave. The thought was so absurd he had to laugh. Of course it would be crawling with Covenant now. Most of whom will have me for breakfa.. The SOEIV pod began to shudder while the console blinked red and the computer called for his attention. Fry punched a few buttons and was rewarded by the computer spazzing out then firing the anti-grav thrusters.

“Yeah this is really complicated, I don’t see how ODSTs perform under such pressure,” Fry said in a slightly mocking tone. His eyes dropped to the floor and he realized that the pod was headed for a ship, a ship which seemed to be glowing with a silvery sort of color about her nose. Another burst of static filled the pod then Matt was slammed against the side of the vehicle. Since he wasn’t wearing a helmet, the tech slipped peacefully into la-la land.

Hours Later

The ODST was still banging on the outside of the pod. “Go away,” Matt groaned. His head hurt and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a pissed off female ODST. He opened his eyes a sliver then they flared wide as the world around his pod came into view. It was waist high in water and a floating piece of debris was banging against the side. A floating piece of purple debris that looked curiously familiar.

I have to get out of here, Fry resolved, slapping the eject button. The hatch punched out from the pod then it filled with water and Fry found himself up to his neck in foul, smelly, oil slicked water. Undoing the clasp on his safety harness, the technician slid from the pod. Matt managed to grab the M6D sidearm that was attached to the side of the pod before he began swimming towards the closest land in sight.

The tool belt, a faithful friend in the past, now sought vengeance for his mishap and tried to drown him with its weight. He unfastened the belt and let the tools sink to the bottom of the river. The floating debris which had seemed so familiar was being pushed towards him and Fry recognized the Covenant Ghost. Swimming over to the craft, Matt hiked a leg up and pulled himself into the Ghost’s seat.

He’d read the specs on the craft and knew its basic functions. Fry also knew from the Ghost’s console readout that it had minimal power. “No weapons, but enough juice to go..well, hell, where do I go?” Matt stated aloud. The tech had no idea where he was. It was clear from the skyline that he was in New York. But where in NY? Fry had a pistol with nine shots, no communication link or armor and no idea whether there were friendlies about.

“This is what Gunny Highway would call a Charlie Foxtrot,” Matt said, thinking back to boot camp and his D.I. “Time to improvise, adapt and overcome.” The marine technician powered up the Ghost and pointed it towards the shore. With any luck he would be able to find shelter and supplies in the city. And maybe, some folks who were friendly.

New York, Earth

The Ghost's controls drove slightly less erratic than a hog cart's, or how Matt assumed a hog cart would drive. When he tried to a hard turn the craft would slide around a corner then keep going until it bashed into a wall or debris and came to a stop. After a few jarring crashes, Matt resolved to take corners at a relatively slow pace.

This will never work if I'm being persued.. the marine thought. Although if I don't find any armor they only need to hit me once and I'm toast.

Navigating around another street corner, Fry came upon a trio of Grunts who were all loitering around another crashed pod. Maybe this one has a functioning communications beacon. the PFC hoped as he increased his speed and ran down two of the snouted Covenant foot soldiers. Double thumps were heard beneath the Ghost and it shuddered then straightened out. The last living Grunt said, "I'm out of here!" and waddled off in the opposite direction on his stubby little feet. Matt turned the Ghost then accelerated it and ploughed over the last Grunt.

He slowed the Ghost, only staring momentarily at the streaks of light blue blood that had burst from the little oinkers' suits, before approaching the ODST pod. The pod was open and inside was a dead trooper. Matt stared down at the ODST. He'd seen dead people before but they had been mostly civilians. The trooper looked peaceful but his head was laying at an odd angle and Fry couldn't see any signs of trauma or a wound. The broken safety straps in the pod told Fry all he needed to know. The ODST's pod had slammed into the ground and the force had cause the straps and thus the trooper's neck to snap.

The ODST's battle rifle was still clipped to the side of the pod but Matt knew he had to get the trooper's armor first. He gingerly removed the soldier's helmet to reveal a young male with a livid scar running down the left side of his face. "Sorry Buddy, but I need your armor more than you do right now," Fry told the dead man. Taking the rest of the armor, Matt suited up and put on the soldier's helmet. The internal systems within the armor needed a reboot, but that proved to be no problem for the combat engineer. Information scrolled across the interior of the visor then the armor's health rate and targetting reticule came online. Matt procured the battle rifle from the pod. When he touched it sensors in the gloves relayed information about the weapon to his HUD, informing him that it had a full clip.

When the armor's communications systems came online, Matt attempted to make contact with any friendlies. "This is PFC Matthew Fry of the USNC ship Hercules, I am lost in New York. If anyone can hear this..I'd appreciate a waypoint to a safe destination.."

[Gladiator0161]

Gladiator listened for any signs of comm use by friendly forces, it took a few minutes but, eventually he got something. It wasn't much, just a pattern of recurring static with the sound of a jumbled voice breaking through intermittently. He focused on that signal and tried to apply what he knew about radio signals and their transceivers, which wasn't much at all. He fiddled with the setting on his transceiver, turning the sensitivity this way and that and back again, until the static cleared up to where he could discern more. After a few seconds he recognized a voice. Sergeant Jacobs. Shana's commanding officer.

"This is Sergeant Jacobs confirming: Snipers are in the area. I repeat, snipers are in the area. I have two men down and more hostiles are on the waa-Private 589 get your damn head down! If I have to repeat my order one more time I will kill you myself!...Jacobs out."

Something nearer though chose that moment to break through the static, almost deafening him.

"This is PFC Matthew Fry of the USNC ship Hercules, I am lost in New York. If anyone can hear this..I'd appreciate a waypoint to a safe destination.."

Shaking his head to clear it and turning the volume on his internal speakers down he grimaced and worked his jaw, he felt his ears pop and grimaced again. It seemed that the areas directly behind him had been freed of jamming, whereas the areas where Sergeant Jacobs and the rest of the team was were still bathed in jammers. Well, atleast that's something, now maybe we can contact command and find out what the hell is going on around here Gladiator thought as he back tracked towards the apartment complex that he'd found Patric in. He pulled up his map of the city on his HUD and examined it, placing two waypoints, one where he knew his team was, and the other where he thought Private Fry might be, which he guessed was over by the wharf. First things first though, he needed to contact command and give them an update.

"Alpha zero two six, this is Sierra zero one six one. Copy. Over." Gladiator ducked back into the relative safety of the apartment complex's doorway, waiting for any sign that he was being received. A moment later some familiar text scrolled across his HUD.

<<USMC COMSEC/CMD/0143T05146Z24/SIERRA 0161/CONNECTION ESTABLISHED/BURST MODE/HIGH ENCRYPTION>>

"Zero one six one, good to hear your voice soldier. We lost your after the Corvet jumped. Give me your sitrep soldier," the familiar sound of Admiral Bane's voice filtered in over the comms.

"Yes sir. Good to hear you too sir. We have heavy casualties here sir, ODST Sling, Sierra zero four two Raven, Sierra one three two Lance, and Sierra zero two five one Siren are all assumed KIA. Only myself, Sierra three three four, and Sierra four three five Hunter still remain from the original team. Sergeant Jacobs and his team are near our position under sniper fire. Me and Sierra three three four are ready to provide assistance," Gladiator said summing up their situation as quickly as he could.

There was an audible sigh from the Admiral "understood. Provide assistance to Sergeant Jacobs team and then hump it back to your current position for a mission update. Oh, and provide a NAV point for Private Fry so he doesn't wet himself, you're going to need all the help you can get out there."

"Understood sir. Gladiator out," he said in response, smiling a little at the Admiral's comment and nodding to no one in particular.

He switched his comm to TEAMCOM a second later so he could transmit "Private Fry, this is Sierra oh one six one, as you might have noticed we're at war soldier, no place is safe for long. Confirm your location and prepare to receive rendezvous coordinates."   

[ashia starstreak]

The marine looked up from the spartan helmet back to Hunter. With a slant of her lips and a raised eyebrow she thought about his request. Shana didn't want to pick up her helmet, but knew she should obey. The slight thought of a giant  attempting to place her helmet on had crossed her mind as she thought why not do it yourself? The idea was just silly enough to make the woman crack a small smile upon Hunter before, she stood up and walked to him. Handing him his helmet she said, "Temperially fixed. I spliced the wires to make it work for now. Hopefully it'll last until this mission is over."

Turning her back to the red and black giant, SHana bent her upper body over and picked up her helmet. Placing it upon her head, she adjusted the straps and spoke into it. "This is private 1068689 requesting a repeat of last transmission, over." Her green eyes flashed to Hunter a moment and scanned his armor, before showing him her back once more.

Within a moment she got a response. "Shana, This is Jacobs, I need you to take the injured spartan into further hiding, we're real hot here. With little firepower I don't know how well we'll fair, over."

Shana sighed and grumbled beneath her breath as she cursed the sergeant for constantly calling her by her name. She was just a number now, an easily forgotten maggot, why did he insist on calling her by name? Before the private could reply back, gunfire sounds from the enterance of the garage. Looking back to Hunter shana nodded toward the building the garage was connected to and said, "We need to go."

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter nodded his thanks to the Private and placed his helmet back on his head. Testing the systems as they rebooted, they seemed to be working to a satisfactory level. He was impressed with the ingenuity of the cadet, normally they could barely fire a rifle, let alone splice wires so proficiently.

"Good work Private, and good idea, let's get the hell out of here"

He propped himself up and using his good leg, forced himself into a standing position, gun fire was sounding outside of their hiding place, which was only going to get worse as the Covenant moved in on their position, Shana was right, they needed to shift to a better position before they were caught.

"Any ideas on where we should move too? Please let it be somewhere without stairs"

The thought of stairs was a horrifying thought for the Spartan, he could manage walking on his broken leg to an extent, but putting all of his weight on it would likely cause him to eventually black out from pain.

[Sushi]

Just a few of the proud skyscrapers that had previously dominated the city still stood. Most were reduced to massive piles of rubble, giving cover to the intense ground battle. Every now and then an MA-5 would clatter in noisy bursts, but more often than not they were silenced by a flurry of plasma bolts.

One of the strongholds of human activity was Firebase Romeo. Some from the initial insertions, a few teams from the Hercules, even a single scorpion from the 17th UNSC Tank Battalion. Wrecks of warthogs were used as improvised machine gun nests, and what precious instacrete they had was used to build a central command bunker and a pair of pillboxes. They had an objective, and they were going to hold it until they were physically incapable of doing so. It had only been twelve hours since mission start.

From just outside the perimeter, a second sun rose from the horizon, sizzling as it lazily arced into the field positions. The plasma round detonated with an ear-splitting bang, throwing several Marines hurtling through the air. The few that survived could only groan in pain as overworked medics ran from casualty to casualty. A second plasma mortar turned most of the medics into casualties themselves.

The blast had roughly awoken OSDT Staff Sergeant Wilkins from a two-hour powernap. They had all been on alternating sleep cycles to keep as many guns on the perimeter as they could at a time. His eyes stinging from a lack of sleep, he grabbed a nearby canteen and poured the freezing water onto his head before slamming on his helmet and rushing out of the bunker, BR-55 in hand.

"Ah, shit..." The red blips on his squad readout showed CPL Montes and PFC Lindt were KIA, with SGT Nelson MIA. That cut the already scant men under his direct command in half. Marine regulars and even fellow Helljumpers were still looking to the Staff Sergeant for answers, as he was one of the only men who had fought against the covenant before this operation, and more importantly survived.

A dazed-looking Marine private ran up to Wilkins. "Sarge, there's a wraith platoon nearby. Four fucking tanks! What the HELL do we do now?"

"Cool your jets..." The ODST quickly checked his tags, having long forgotten most faces in the hellish fighting. "... Private DiTomasso. We'll get tank-hunter teams together. For now, you need to help organize casualties."

PFC DiTomasso gave a tired thumbs-up. "On it, sarge."

SSGT Wilkins nodded, his grim expression hidden by the opaque helmet visor. He stepped through the steaming wreckage of several field positions, looking for a particular building that hadn't quite collapsed yet. One particular tower had a winch installed for quick access to the upper floors. He clipped himself into the harness and made the ascent, arriving at the top in a little under a minute. Upon entrance, he glanced around warily.

Their only Spartan-II had been using the place as an observation post. Despite frequent comments and even bets to the contrary, it had yet to take a hit from a plasma mortar. The interior seemed a little better-off than most of the other structures, and it would have looked almost friendly if not for the various weapons laid all over the place. He audibly cleared his throat. "Ma'am, the covenant brought more Wraiths."

The Spartan emerged from one of the side rooms, an elegant, but brutal mass of brown ceramic panels and black joints. A M19 rocket launcher poked over one shoulder, and a variety of web gear was loaded with ammunition. "Four and a pair of ghosts, to be exact. The sporadic bombing means they want to prod us for a reaction, instead of killing us outright." The external speakers slightly masked her voice, but it was clear, quiet, and very martial.

"Will all due respect ma'am... they're doing a hell of a job at killing us regardless." Wilkins felt a chill down his back as the Spartan turned, armored visor hiding their gaze as they stared at the Helljumper. The ghostly image of an ID tag flashed next to her outline, reading 'Callsign: Valkyrie.'

To his surprise, the armored giant sighed. "This is true. They have more tanks than we have Marines. "

The ODST nodded. "Not to mention those Phantoms hauling loads of food and ammunition to them every night." He unconsciously patted his vest, just to make sure that his eight magazines of battle rifle ammo were still there. "Our firebase is going to get drowned with covvie logistics." Wilkins was incredulous the entire time. He had always known Spartans as those of few words - this one seemed to be holding a normal discussion with him.

"Either way Staff Sergeant, the first step is to destroy their armor. We can look into a goodie raid or a supply drop afterwards. I'll need you to organize two sections with antitank missiles and LOTUS mines in one hour. Have a 'hog ready to go and the Scorpion's ammunition double-checked."

Wilkins unconsciously snapped a crisp Marine salute. "Ma'am."

Hidden by the helmet, 'Valkyrie' smiled. She was only a Petty Officer 1st Class, but she found more and more that the Marines treated her as a leader as much as a simple boost to their fighting capacity that had landed in the wrong dropzone twelve hours ago. It reminded her of being with the rest of the S-2s, if only vaguely.

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The Spartan crouched in the rubble along with a dozen black-suited ODSTs. Over half their numbers were equipped with M19 and M41 rocket launchers and as much ammunition as they could physically carry. Only two hundred meters from their position, the Covenant armor group was pounding away with their wraiths, firing shells into targets she could only hope were prepared. She quietly noted there was now a fifth tank, the group laid out in a neat horizontal firing line.

Valkyrie opened the private channel to the base communications and fired off a quick burst message. Elevation 200. Search 30. Target stationary. Fire for effect. Any covenant decryption would be too late to make a difference, the messaging hitting HQ in a fraction of a second.

They didn't have actual artillery, technically speaking. But the Scorpion's 105mm main gun could indirectly land a shell several klicks away. Accurately. The first shells came in almost directly on top of the right-most wraith, tearing it open like a bulbous purple tin can. The second wraith was blown apart before the rest took the hint and scattered, now firing wildly into the estimated direction of attack. Leaking plasma obscured the air, only pierced by the brilliant blue of covenant fire.

"I got a lock!" An ODST laughed ominously before a rocket leaped from his M41, zooming into one of the Ghosts. The elite driver actually turned around and tried to leave the vehicle, but the explosive beat him to it. A thunderclap punctuated the crunch of vehicle and driver alike being torn apart as a ragged cheer rose from the Helljumpers. Crazy or not, they still professionals, and the men swiftly relocated to avoid the inevitable return fire.

The Spartan took her cue and left at a dead sprint, hopping out of a window and circling behind another pile of rubble.

[TyKing]

PFC Fry moved from what had at one point been a waiting area for public transportation to an abandoned office complex whose front had been knocked off by plasma scarring. Bypassing the security desk which had been woefully rendered moot by destruction, Fry took cover behind a desk that sported a couple of holopics of the previous owner's family, a red stapler and a dusty but unscathed coffee mug that boasted it was the 'Property of Big Daddy'.

A flurry of pink shards shattered against the opposite side of the desk.The sound of breaking glass caused the tech to cringe lower. Needler. Why did they have to have a needler?! His communication had given away his position to a pair of oinkers led by a jackal, who upon seeing their comrade's blood annointing the front of his Ghost, had proceeded to lay down a barrage of plasma. And needles.

A communication link scrolled inside his helmet's visor.  >>USMC COMSEC/SIERRA 0161/COMMTEAM/PFC FRY, MATTHEW A/BURST MODE/HIGH ENCRYPTION>>

Saved! His relief was cut short by a bright blue ball of flame soaring over the desk and attaching itself to the temporary wall behind him.

Diving sideways, Fry launched himself behind the cover of another desk and rolled away as a burst of deadly plasma exploded from where the grenade had adhered itself. The scavenged armor saved his life but the super-heated gas still burned his left leg and caused Fry to unleash a yell of pain that was punctuated by a number of expletives.

"Private Fry, this is Sierra oh one six one, as you might have noticed we're at war soldier, no place is safe for long. Confirm your location and prepare to receive rendezvous coordinates."

"No shit Sierra 0161." Fry said as he fired his battle rifle over the top of the desk, shooting blindly to keep the Covenant at bay. "Location is static. I'm under fire. Will contact when clear. Fry out."

There was a squeal of pain from the enemy soldiers and the PFC couldn't help but feel elated, knowing he'd hit at least one. Moving behind another desk in the row, Fry kept ahead of the grenades that the oinkers were pelting in his direction. He snapped up from behind the desk and drilled the stubby little pig with a shot to his breathing apparatus before ducking more shards from the needler. Moving, never staying in one place, Fry left the office building and furiously limped across the street to half vault, half fall into a derelict fountain outside one of the taller appartment buildings. The water in the fountain was only a couple of inches deep. It soaked through his pants and bathed the plasma burn on his leg, cooling the seared flesh. He drew a bead on the opening which he'd used to leave the office building, scoping in with the carbine's optical sight while he switched from burst to single fire for accuracy.

The jackal loped through the hole in the wall, his head bobbing up and down before he stopped and scanned the street. The tungsten tipped round cut a path through the jackal's skull and burrowed into his brain as purple gore splattered a nearby wall. The Covenant light infantry dropped to the pavement, his bright green shield extinguishing along with the creature's life.

This is my rifle, this is my gun. This one's for shooting, this one's for fun. Fry thought smuggly as he keyed his helmet mic.

"Sierra 0161, this is PFC Fry, my location is.."He still hadn't the foggiest where he was."..here. Standing by for coordinates."

[ashia starstreak]

Shana looked up to Hunter for a moment before trailing off toward the noise from her squad. She didn't want to leave them behind and knowing they'd have a better chance with more experienced fighters beside them only tugged at her more, but that was not her objective now. Shana glanced back to the giant before turning her back to him. The woman proudly walked deeper into the garage, her strides long, her shoulders back.

Slowing down, the marine looked around as she pulled forth her handgun. Checking to be sure it was loaded, she inched closer to a pair of doors ahead of them. Green eyes making their way back to the spartan, Shana had to mentally kick herself as she forgot his status. Hurrying back to his side the short marine offered him assistance. Shana knew she couldn't offer much being as small as she was compared to him, but that didn't stop her. "Remind me to rig you up a mobile or some sort of contraption. Come on, lets go big guy. I found a door just ahead, dunno where it leads, but we gotta git gone." she said holding up an arm to help guide him. Shana moved in close and wrapped it around his waist, but she couldn't help feeling mighty awkward as the top of  her head only reached bottom of his ribs.

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter only nodded when Shana returned and tried to lift him up. He had to admire her spirit. Pushing up with his good leg, he was soon stood up and limping along with Shana, her leading him to the door and wherever it led too. His broken leg flared up whenever he put weight on it, but he pushed through it as best he could and continued moving, trying to be less of a burden than he was.

"Let's hope this door leads to somewhere useful" he commented on the great unknown they were going to step into.

He pushed the door open and was surprised to find them in an abandoned shopping center of some kind.

[Sushi]

"Reassigned?" Valkyrie asked tonelessly. The channel crackeed a little as the comms technician tried to get a fix on the single long-range radio the firebase had.

"<Firebase Romeo is stable enough to reallocate . . .  assets to a new area. The . . .  contact with encircled forces in delta sector. Covvie armor is . . . area. As soon as possible. How copy?>"

"Stable? This area isn't stable. We're still reeling from that plasma bombardment." She responded matter-of-factly. "Ammunition is a constant concern and the base is hemorrhaging manpower. It's only going to get worse as the covenant throw more at this strongpoint. Over."

The voice on the other end didn't respond for a moment. "<Petty officer, I'd change the orders if I could. I'm just the damned messenger.>"

"...Affirmative. Out." The spartan killed the line and stepped away from the radio array, pondering the situation. More than what the Marines were like now, she wondered what would happen to morale, as her departure would not go unnoticed. Being killed in another routinely dangerous mission was a secondary concern... though perhaps not being around dozens of troopers if she did bite the dust was preferable. She opened a private channel with Wilkins. "Staff Sergeant. I'm being reassigned to the battle in the city."

"<Damned unfortunate, ma'am. Any last requests?>"

Valkyrie shook her head at the half-joke. She removed the mag from her rifle to check the load, then the ammo in her pouches. "My normal loadout and a three-day pack. I can grab the ammo myself."

"<Alrighty then! I'll get the falcon pilots to give you a lift to the OP. And I'll be damned if I take no as an answer.>"

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Two Falcons would head out from the base just before dawn, like any other combat air patrol. By the time they deviated from typical flight patterns and alerted covenant banshees, they had already made their delivery and departed the LZ. At the Spartan's request, the crew periodically threw out the cylindrical canisters of weapons and supplies that would keep the fight going for the stranded forces.

Valkyrie checked her equipment. An M19 launcher, MA-5K with illuminator and holographic sight, M6D sidearm, a dozen grenades and plenty of magazines. Her rucksack had several reloads for the launcher in airtight packs, countless rifle magazines, three days of high-energy foods, several liters of water, electrolyte powder and a water purifier... along with the mission-dependent equipment, like the pair of lotus mines, C-7 canisters and suppressors. It was a heavy load for anybody but a Spartan, so she would have to avoid fights until she could reconnect with local forces.

The pilots had commented there might be other S-2s in the area. She needed to get their attention, discreetly. Valkyrie prepared a text burst, standard UNSC encryption and giving a very slight signature.

Code Select Expand

S102. Coordinates?

Even if covenant intercepted the message, it was useless for forces who weren't familiar with their callsigns. But considering the time it could take for a response, Valkyrie would have to do some digging herself. She locked a suppressor onto her rifle and proceeded through the ruins, hugging the shadows.

[The Golden Touch]

Mission Start... 3... 2... 1...

The screech and groan of metal on metal was loud inside Adelaine's blackened helmet, the HUD blank for now without the bleeps of jackels and grunts. The sounds of the metal straining to withstand the outside pressure were deafening as the single person pod plummeted toward the Covenant ship. She prayed then, for whatever reason she was compelled to. There was little she could do but wait for the impending collision but talking to an invisible higher power was easier than screaming, 'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!' She concentrated on the mission instead- the thirty personnel of ODST, Spartans and others should not have too much trouble with their mission Admiral Bane had given them:

"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."

Those ten minutes had been filled with the organized chaos that was the loading of weapons and personnel. Addie moved through easily enough, dodging a soldier unlucky enough to cross in front of her. Grabbing her normal sniper rifle, assault rifle, pistol and raided the plethora of grenades stacked in rows, Addie- call sign Shadow, continued to brace for the impact landing on the Cruiser would be. Bumpy and teeth rattling, there was a roar and she was thrown in her harness- helmet clanking against the wall sending her senses reeling. Trapped inside her pod, her comms went static and she was left in her own headspace for a time. The limited view was nauseating, but she managed to see Earth rushing up towards her, the flames of her entrance into the atmosphere licking across the glass.

"Sierra six three six, off course- entering Earth's atmosphere..."

Adelaine heard only static in her Comms, hoping someone had heard her call before the rush of interference as she peeled off on her lonesome. The computer chirped to life, its voice heralding her imminent collision, 'Brace for impact in ten...' The female Spartan started counting silently, watching the ground rush upwards.

Nine...

Eight...

Seven...

Six...

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

Addie braced, the metal compacting under the grip she had built in her years as a Spartan. She fought the urge to close her eyes, watching buildings come into view that could only be New York City.

'One.'

The pod skipped, bouncing across the ground and colliding with a carport and taking out a few vehicles along the way. Adelaine growled in irritation, everything shaken loose in the chaotic tumble. She peeled herself off the wall of the pod, releasing her harness with a quick clip. Pulling the handle, she pushed open the door to peer outside. It did not look like she was in an area with much Covenant activity. Retrieving her weapons, she loaded up and peeled off, leaving the area at a double time to avoid running into anyone that may have seen her wayward crash landing.

"Sierra six three six landed- New York City, Earth. Off course and on foot. Please advise."

She circled through buildings, creeping around the bigger groups with their Hunters and Wraiths. Addie knew enough to avoid them whenever possible to conserve her ammunition until she reached the rest of her squad. She had climbed to a tall roof top, spotting smoke far in the distance. Addie could only cross her fingers that it was a friendly. Repeating the call every hour as she moved, she reached no one and then night was falling. Dusk was fading into twilight as she holed up- blackened armor hiding her from view. She could only hope that tomorrow she would find a few others from the thirty personnel sent in.

Day One melts into Day Two...

Sleep was barely required, and there was still a hyper sense of adrenaline as Adelaine waited in her hole. She had maintained radio silence through the night and up until the sun peeked over the New York horizon. Moving quietly, she climbed to a roof top- looking for the smoke she had spotted. Her vision sharpened, spotting circling Banshees and blue flames that could only be tossed by the aforementioned Wraiths. Hoofing it off again, she kept a keen eye out for enemies- her HUD surprisingly quiet for the moment.

It was a few hours and several calls for statuses later that she even ran across another group, though this one was smaller. She crouched behind a concrete wall, peering down into the street as a group of jackals, grunts and a single brute came tromping a little less than quietly up it. Her scope was trained on the brute, watching him issue is orders, waving his bladed weapon toward the other end of the street that was directly in Addie's direction. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger gently- the round catching the muscled creature in the eye socket. She thought she had missed for a second, knowing that one stray should would send him into a rage and she would be hard pressed to down him later. He dropped, crushing a grunt that disappeared under his bulk with a spout of methane.

The patrol dove for cover, scanning for her position with creepy accuracy. Addie watched a jackal take control, forcing the grunts to gain ground in her direction. Slipping silently down into the shadows, she moved street-side to approach her prey. Her hands deftly checked and primed a grenade, lobbing the frag into their midst. The metal landed and bounced, scattering the ragged-tag group in the absence of their Brute leader. The hiss of the methane breathing apparatuses was not hard to pick out, and she lifted her pistol with a deft two-hand grip as she advanced.

Green sparked on her left and she ducked, huddling out of sight as a jackal advanced past her position. She retrieved her combat knife, flipping it in one hand as she pounced- assassinating the bird-like creature with practiced skill. Dropping the corpse, she moved- taking out the patrol until she was left to pick apart the gear they carried. Taking as many of the 'sticky' grenades they loved to carry, she loped off again- dead-set on finding another person in this place. Her strides were even and quiet, making great time to no where until she finally managed to hear:

"This is PFC Matthew Fry of the USNC ship Hercules, I am lost in New York. If anyone can hear this..I'd appreciate a waypoint to a safe destination.."

True, she did not hear any thing else and she shifted, locking on to the transmission. "PFC Matthew Fry, this is Sierra six three six in your area. Status?" She ducked into cover, spotting another patrol as she waited for a reply.

[Vengurd]

He had stood silently as the other spartan had moved to another position and waited with alert patience, keeping an eye on him as he kept an eye on the surrounding area until he returned. Patric had listened in on Gladiator's report and gave him a nod before turning his head to the side and tipping it down the street where he had spotted a warthog that abandoned, a lone body nearby with the head and much of the upper torso missing. He must have been the gunner, or at least might have been considering the bodie's booted right foot had been caught on the rear bumper of the 'hog.

"I have the gun," he announced as he started forward, jogging down the street, paying close attention to his HUD and surroundings. Climbing into the gun operator's mount he experimentally moved the barrel of the turret from side to side, up and down. A grin stretching his lips as closer examination confirmed what he had guessed at a distance- this was a gauss rifle cannon. The rate of fire was only about as fast as you could pull the trigger, but the power behind it would make sure anything hit would at least feel it.

[Gladiator0161]

Gladiator looked up as Patric spotted a 'hog and made his way over to it as he called the gunner's seat. The blue and gold armored Spartan jogged up to the driver's seat, momentarily taking note of the torn emasculated body that was hanging off the back. Going over to it, he gently lifted it off the Warthog and set it on the pavement. There was no head, no shoulders, just a mound of torn meat that started where the ribs should have been. He waited a split second out of respect for a fallen soldier, then moved over to the driver's seat again and slid in. Turning the key that was fortunately still in the ignition, the beast roared to life. Activating his comm he said "Hang on back there, you're in for one hell of a ride!" stomping on the gas pedal, the 'hog leaped into action, peeling rubber as the two Spartans roared towards Jacob's last known position.

"First things first though, we're gonna take care of those snipers pinning Jacobs and his team, then we go pick up Fry" Gladiator called back to his gunner as he turned the steering wheel and drifted around a corner.

Switching his comm again he contacted Jacobs "Sergeant Jacobs, this is Sierra oh one six one with Sierra three three four, we're in a Warthog and headed your way. We'll take care of those snipers for you. After that's done, book it to Shana's position and wait for a mission update. We'll be back after we pick up some reinforcements. Over."

A second later Jacob's voice came over the comm "Glad to hear it Sierra oh one six one. I appreciate the help. Over and out."

Another two blocks and they were closing on Jacob's position, the sounds of the gun fight could be heard from half a block away but, the carnage and the multicolored plasma shots from Covenant energy weapons were noticeable from a much longer distance. Gladiator hit the zoom on his HUD and spotted the Jackal Sniper's positions almost immediately as he tracked their unique silvery purple fire, he layed out their positions as NAV points on his HUD, and then relayed them to Partic. He turned the car left and right, avoiding the deadly sniper fire that was now being directed at them. He heard Patric open up with the Warthog's Gauss turret, and the concussions as the high impact rounds detonated on their targets, amidst the plinking sounds made by successful sniper hits on the vehicle's armor plating. As Gladiator focused on driving, he noted that the path ahead was littered with vehicular debris, some was Covenant but, most had once belonged to the UNSC. A big flat piece of road had been blasted from it's home, and now sat resting at an angle against a pile of crushed and still burning civilian cars. Gladiator instantly recognized the pattern of debris ahead, the holes dotting the road, and what had made them. A Scarab had been through here at some point. Probably from when New York was first invaded. Seeing no other alternative other than breaking hard and hoping he had enough room to drift so he could turn around, Gladiator made for the piece of large debris, aiming to use it as a ramp. Patric was still firing the Gauss turret but, the amount of Sniper fire coming their way had lessened quite a bit.

As the front wheels caught on the surface of the road debris, the Warthog jounced upwards before all four tires caught the pavement, gripping it like velcro. A second later the Warthog and the two Spartans inside were air born and flying over the decimated cars. Gladiator smiled as Patric gave a small whoop of excitement. The landing was harder than he would've liked, and he had to do some serious steering to keep the beast level but, it did so under his skillful hands. Coming up on the end of the block Gladiator looked back and told Patric to hang on as he drifted around the corner. A few minutes after that, he drifted around another corner and they were going back the way they came, and heading towards Private Fry's position.

About ten minutes went by before they crossed more Covenant but, it had just been a rag tag group of a couple of Jackals, three Grunts and an Elite. Gladiator didn't even slow down, and passed them as they blurred by. He was hustling it down the main road, dodging debris, rolled over cars, burning cars, smashed cars as he simply rolled over the bodies that littered the ground, grimacing with each bump. Fifteen minutes after that, they ran into a group of four Hunters that were guarding the path that led to the bridge. Fortunately there was enough space to race between them. The Hunters raised their weapons charging and their massive shield arms went into defensive postures but, by the time they had fired they had either hit air, or each other as some tried to track the vehicle, hoping for a lucky shot. Gladiator turned to look back, and laughed as he saw two of the massive eel like aliens blast each other in their 'faces', only to be thrown back and toppled over by the force of their own weapons. Five minutes after that they attracted the attention of four Banshee flyers, two of which ended up pasting themselves on the entrance to a tunnel that Gladiator had ducked into, as they tried to make it at the same time to chase the speeding Warthog. Two though survived as was evidenced by their green glowing missiles that impacted on either side of the armored vehicle.

Gladiator whooped at the sight of the four laned bridge, now only a few miles away, how many he couldn't be certain but, the fact that he could see it on the horizon amidst the towering canyons of tritanium steel he took as a good sign. White plasma fire from the still trailing Banshees splattered against the windshield and burned holed through the material. The blue and gold Spartan reflexively raised an arm to protect his head as he called back to his passenger to see if he was alright. Eventually the hail of plasma fire vanished, answering his query.

The rest of the half hour that it took to get to the bridge was relatively uneventful, atleast to Gladiator, who's sole focus was on driving the hog. Not thirty feet onto the bridge though, they caught the attention of some more Banshee flyers, how many he couldn't be sure, as he was focused on dodging debris in the road, once his path was relatively clear, he looked back and saw that there were three Banshees on their tail. Two of which unleashed two missiles. Dodging left, he felt the 'hog jostle as the missiles impacted to the right of them. Looking back again, he jinked the jeep back over to the right, dodging another set of missiles.

They were almost across the bridge when two Banshees came from ahead of them, dipping down low and firing their missiles before barrel rolling nimbly away as the hog bared down on them. He dodged one set successfully but, the second pair hit the hog on the front left tire, blowing it out and sending the Warthog's nose to the pavement, flipping the vehicle. Gladiator found himself air born as he was wrenched from the driver's seat.

Training took over and he formed himself into a ball. Pain lanced through his back and arms as he impacted on the ground, bounced, hit again, and skid for thirty feet or more until he hit something that felt like a concrete barrier, and flipped over onto his stomach, his feet flying over his head. He rolled so many times he lost count before he finally lost consciousness. His forward momentum finally lost energy a few seconds later and he stopped.

The Banshee flyers circled once, unknown to the unconscious form on the street, and then finally left, making their way towards the city on their original path.

[Vengurd]

 He only nodded as Gladiator stomped on the gas pedal and leaned back to get his bearings. His focus glassed over as he let the details blur and the sound of the 'hog enveloped him, turning into a background noise. Colors shifted and melded until eventually Patric saw and heard only a muddled form of what really was there. His entire body going slack, bouncing and swaying as he let the motion of the 'hog flowed into him. From the background noise the poks of plasma and retorts from UNSC hardware registered, snapping into clear focus. The barrel was already snapping to the second of a dozen identified targets when the NAV points snapped into focuse on his HUD before they too grew muddled. Fingers methodically pulling the triggers, hands squeezing, breathing slow and shallow, a slack jawed sort of grin the only physical recognition of his mental state as he sent bullet after explosive bullet into sniper's positions. There a window exploded out, a jackal screeching as it was flung out, there a balcony collapsed. Walls collapsed, roofs caved in.

His whole world was a blur and by the time they had left the marines behind there were only three sniper's positions left that he could identify. Sight and balance momentarily shifted as the 'hog became airborne and Patric unconsciously let out a small whoop of excitement before the 'hog roughly landed. They drifted around and sped by the way they came, giving Patric another round at the snipers from another angle, identifying more from the other direction. More destruction blossomed as explosive bullets smashed into buildings and vehicles, smashing bodies apart with punitive ease. They were clear of the snipers fast than the first time around and Patric let his arms relax in the firing position.

Time flowed by with Patrict lazily looking spinning the gun's turret every few minutes, his rotation timed just so that he missed the first group of covenant without even knowing they were there. His grip tightened as Gladiator's driving became more hazardous than before, weaving to and fro to avoid the debris of conquest and war. After a time the weaving lessened and Patric watched as the four hunters timed their firing improperly. He fired several shots into the hunters still standing to distract them from getting a proper bead on the 'hog. One shot missed and hit the road between the hunters. Already weak the pavement caved in, introducing the Hunters to the circulation of the great human city of New York's Sewers. Now the little things had a reason to glow green. Turning the gun Patric aimlessly moved the gun from side to side, angled up slightly. Within time he could see banshees and began to trade fire with them, a tunnel entrance signing the contract for two banshee's before Patric could.

A few more minutes of trading fire and a close shot or two and Patric finally got a hit, the leading banshee veering into the path of the closely following banshee whom tried to turn away too late, turning into a bright blue sun, debris falling. Satisfied he had dealt with them Patric turned the turret back toward the front of the 'hog and began to lazily move the gun from side to side again. After a few minutes of this Patric felt something warm on his abdomen and then a strong twinge. Looking down Patric saw a small sized hole punched into the stomach of his armor, a small trail of red leaking from the hole. A fair amount had already coagulated around the wound and a fairly sized puddle had formed around his feet, suggesting he had taken the hit sometime during their pass with the snipers. He grimaced slightly and told the suit to administer the appropriate pain killers and drugs.

Soon the trail stopped flowing and the pain faded before it could begin to over-come his affinity for pain. His attention was jerked back to the sky as Gladiator jerked to one side and green explosions erupted on the other. He turned the gun and fired a single shot into the rear most banshee, scoring a direct hit. He would have opened fire on the other two banshees but for his strength fading. He felt increadibly weak now and grunted in shocked surprise as he realized the wound might just be worse than he had initially though. He had already lost a lot of blood and had only just recovered from dehydration. A wound like this, especially right after his last op...Things weren't looking too good for him and he needed to find a place to get himself patched up ASAP or he was gone. Grimly set he raised the gun and pulled the trigger as the 'hog gave a sudden jerk and snapped him up, his feet momentarily leaving the sticky puddle of blood before the pavement in front of them slammed into his back jarring the visor of his helmet into the gun mount, his entire upper body collapsing into the gun, destroying it as the remains of the 'hog flipped and turned, crumbling around him before he was finally thrown from the 'hog, hos unconscious form slamming into the guard rail of the bridge, snapping the stone and metal into pieces and plummeting to the shallow waters below. His body crashed into the muddy water below just off the shore of the island.

The pain, so intense, so incredible, jerked him awake for a full minute. So shocked and numb Patric could only blink and allow training to take over and telling his suit to transmit an SOS and a need for an immediate attention for medical care before the pain spiked, freeing a gasp from his tortured lips as he fainted before the half functional suit blipped at him poorly, warning him that the transmitter of his suit was malfunctioning, the pack attached to his back that housed the extra radio equipment was destroyed and reduced to shrapnel and nearly completely torn free.

[ashia starstreak]

The marine looked around the open space. Standing beneath a grand staircase, Shana noted the first of it's steps were located a couple yards away. It indicated the second floor was taller than the average height of a normal building. Large windows once stood tall at the opposite end of their position were now shattered. At their left was an elevator, but further down to the wall was a room. Judging by the racks of clothes, it was quite clear..this place was a large mall. Shana's green eyes looked up in wonder and disgust all at once as she was in disbelief to what she saw.

The marine counted five balconies from their positions. Shaking her head, the woman released Hunter to face the door behind them. Pulling off her left boot, Shana slipped a roll of duct tape from around her ankle. She put her boot back on and pulled out her last frag grenade as she worked at a boobie trap using the two items. With the grenade securely placed, Shan tore the tape to weaken it's hold using her teeth. She pulled out the pin of the grenade only after double checking the security of of the duct tape's hold.

Shana slide her hand through the roll of tape and used it as a temporary wrist band. She eye balled it quite pleased with herself. "Whoever tries following us will have their mind blown away. Come on, lets move out..see if we can't find a working vehicle outsii- Get Down!" The woman said as she turned back around and spoted a undeniable crimson color at the corner of her eye, As Shana's eyes moved to it, her first instinct was correct. A red armored elite stood tall behind a rack of clothes. If he had not made the mistake of moving, Shana might have discarded him as a display dummy. As he lifted his plasma rifle at them, the woman pushed Hunter forward urging him to go toward the protection of the wall beneath the stairs. The elite barked orders and several grunts weaved out from behind the clothes racks.

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter was thrown off balance and landed with a rough thud as he hit the ground, his ribs breaking out in pain that sent a wave of nausea through him. Fighting to keep the vomit from filling his helmet, he swallowed with a push and rolled onto his front and began to army crawl towards the space that Shana had pushed him towards. As the shot began flying, he managed to crawl into the space and keep ducked down but he felt helpless without a weapon. A sitting duck, literally.

He didn't even know how many enemy forces were around, all he knew was that Shana was the only one who could help him right now and for the first time since he could remember, he actually felt a little bit afraid. But on top of the fear was a sense of gratitude towards Shana, who was going out of her way to look after him while he was down. He knew it was all part of being in the army, but still, he couldn't help but feel that she was going out of her way to ensure that he was alright.

Ducking his head out trying to get a lay of the enemy positions, he couldn't see a thing because every time his helmet even poked out a little, he was shot at and had to dodge back in again. Damn his weakened condition, otherwise he would be dancing the dance of death with these alien freaks, showing them who was boss before he blew their brains all over the marble floor.

[ashia starstreak]

The marine winced at what she had done to the spartan, cursing beneath her breath. She hadn't enough time to think of anything else and before she could leap over to join him, plasma was fired. Shana pushed herself back landing against the double doors. Her green eyes grew in fear as they desperately looked to the boobie trap. With a deep sigh of relief the woman was momentarily at peace. Standing on tip toes Shana struggled to stay behind the covenant's line of fire.  She thought about reaching for her handgun, but knew she couldn't get a shot in with plasma flying past her.

With an idea blooming, she took off her helmet. Shana was second guessing herself, she hesitated but forced her hands to place the helmet forward stopping when only the tip of her helmet was in their view. Immediately a plasma impacted her helmet, the force almost knocking it from her hands. Bringing the helmet back quickly she dramtically let out a gargled groan as if they had hit and killed her. Placing her partly melted helmet back on shana reached for her gun.

As the firing stopped, she could hear the covenant murmering. and then foot steps cautiously approaching. The marine froze in place, each step heightening her heart rate. When a grunt appeared before her, Shana raised her gun and squeezed the trigger without thinking. Before the alien could so much as look surprised, a bullet hit his skull and he landed with a heavy thud.

Plasma filled the area once more. Slinking down, Shana grabbed the dead corpse and inched it closer to her. She frantically searched his body for a sticky. Her heart sinking as she could not find it. Just as she was about to give up, her eyes glanced to the marble floor and spotted one. "Ugh..thank god.." she said swiping it up along with a plasma pistol.

Kicking the corpse away from her, she tossed Hunter the PP. "Ya alright!?" she called to him and activated the grenade. Facing the covenant, Shana chucked the blue ball.

Upon seeing it come at them the covenant jumped further away into the department. an elite knocking over a rack as he dodged for cover, but when the grenade did not land inside the store and was spotted on the wall above the entrance, they laughed at her. Mockingly, Shana laughed back. "Heh..heh..heh." she said back pushing the elevator button.

The sticky blew up and the wire cage came crashing down along with rubble from above their entrance. The avalanche wouldn't have killed any of them, but it bought the marine just enough time to move the Spartan. "Come on big guy, we gotta go!" she said, her redneck accent shinning through. Running behind the giant, Shana held him beneath his arms and painfully slow she began dragging him toward the elevator. "Daaamn..yer heavy." she commented as she struggled her way to the enterance of the elevator. The marine attempted a smile, but the adrenaline pumped through her faster by the second as she heard the covenant begin tearing down the blockage. Oh shit..oh shit.. Shana thought as she picked up her speed toward the elevator.

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter called back to Shana

"I'm great, a weapon would have been fantastic but then I don't think I would be much help"

He kept ducked down when suddenly he heard an explosion and he had to laugh

"Nicely done"

He then felt Shana straining to pick him up and drag him to the elevator that was approaching so he picked himself up a little and put his weight on his good leg. He then hobbled as best he could through the pain in his broken limb and ducked into the contraption when its doors opened and the elevator welcomed them like an old friend.

"Which floor do you wanna take?"

[TyKing]

>>USMC COMSEC/SIERRA 636//BURST MODE/HIGH ENCRYPTION>>

"PFC Matthew Fry, this is Sierra six three six in your area. Status?"

If Matt hadn't have been looking at the business end of a battle rifle, he would have gladly replied to the Spartan's query. But as it happened, he was currently engaged in a struggle with one of the few people he'd ever expected to want to kill him. He watched as his captor removed the comm tech from the ODST helmet he'd been wearing then dropped it on the dusty floor of the crumbling apartment building in which Fry had taken shelter. His captor's boot came down on the commtech and crushed it, effectively cutting off Fry's ability to communicate with what he had thought was an evac team.

Fry cursed. "Why didn't you answer her?" he demanded, "Then we would have more of a chance of surviving.."

"Unfuck yourself Techie, it was a Covenant ploy to get us out in the open," the ODST said as the barrel of her rifle wavered over Fry. The woman's eyes went cold as she stared at Fry. "What happened to Cal?"

"Who?" Fry asked. He knew that ODSTs were wound tight but being held captive by a soldier who was UNSC had never seemed a possibility. Maybe she's been wound up one time too many? he considered. "I don't know a 'Cal'." Covenant ploy?? Who's she kidding, they always kill us, they don't take prisoners.

"You're wearing his gear. I don't think Cal would give his gear to a Techie."

"He wasn't really in a place to disagree," Fry answered, immediately realizing he'd relayed the news of Cal's death in the wrong way because the ODSTs weapon drifted upward so she was aiming at his unprotected forehead. "I mean, he was dead on impact. I killed the Covenant around his pod and then took his gear.."

"Sorry Techie, I don't believe you, you lost me where you said you killed the Covenant." The female ODST snugged the butt of her rifle against her shoulder, aiming through the scope at Fry. "Take off Cal's gear."

"What?"

"Take. off. my. partner's. gear." the ODST repeated.

Shit. She's gone off the deep end. Cal and her had something going.. Fry thought as he made a show of removing the ODST battle armor without doing much. I have to get away from her and I need to keep this armor in order to survive long enough to get an evac. The crazy ODSTs grip hadn't weakened on her weapon and Fry was looking death in the face, but it never crossed his mind that he should kill the woman. She was UNSC and so was he. When she had first pulled him behind the makeshift barricade/lobby desk in the building, he'd been relieved after his initial shock had worn off. Another soldier with their head on a swivel meant his chances for survival had increased, or so Fry had thought.

"Listen I know you're upset about your partner's death but.." Fry started to say before the ODST switched the selector from burst to single shot, silencing his attempt to deffuse the situation. I need a distraction so I can get out of here. Matt tried to think of something, anything he could do, but nothing came to mind.

A round buried itself in the wood of the desk, missing Fry by mere inches. "Shit! Okay, you can have Cal's armor!" Fry said as his shaking hands began to move faster but with no more success.

A bright blue and white orb flew over the makeshift barricade and attached itself to the front of the crazy ODST's helmet. The single shot had drawn the attention of the Covenant patrol who were searching for stragglers among the ruins. Fry launched himself sideways as the ODST fired on him. He felt a round strike then there was a brilliant blue explosion.

***

When Fry regained consciousness he could hear Grunts close by, their tell-tale squeaks and snuffles an indication that the enemy was checking for any signs of life among the ruins of what had been the crazy ODSTs 'hunker down' spot. The butt of a weapon was sticking out of a pile of rubble a foot in front of the combat engineer but he dared not grab it and give away his position. Fry's forehead throbbed and his face felt wet. He was pretty sure he was bleeding. He remembered feeling the shot strike him but there wasn't any pain and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

[Gladiator0161]

Chapter 3: Medic Please


When Gunnery Sergeant Desmond Rockwell awoke a day ago, he found himself buried beneath rubble. with no sign of their sniper friend, Lance. He'd called out audibly, and over comms but, he'd had no reply either way. Either he was buried too deep in the rubble, or his comms were broken. Either way, he was on his own. Before he moved, he checked himself over, and found that his right leg had been pinned by a large piece of ceiling. It had been bleeding but, that had stopped for now. He was extremely disoriented, and couldn't determine which direction he was laying. Last thing he remembered was Lance shoving him, saying something about incoming fire from a Wraith Tank. The blast itself had probably hit one of the supporting beams that stabilized the top floor, that must have been why the roof had caved in.

He switched on his nightvision and took a look at his surroundings one more time. A single beam lay a few inches away from his head, supporting the debris on top of him, keeping it from crushing the life out of him. He could see a few inches past it, to a relatively stable section but, past it was a wall of debris that cut him off from the rest of the building. He looked down at his feet, and a pin prick of light came through a crack barely a centimeter wide. He had no idea how far he'd have to dig to reach that light, or even if that was a good idea. If he removed one wrong piece of rubble, he could make his situation, or that of Lance's even worse. If he was still alive that is.

"Shit, this is bad" he had muttered to himself, trying to gently dislodge his leg from the piece of ceiling pinning it. He heard a rumbling noise start up, so he stopped. Then he had drawn his knife, and spent the rest of the day cutting away at the ceiling tile, drywall, wires, and insulation that was pinning his leg, trying to make a hole just big enough to get his leg free with slow but, deliberate movements. He found through his movements that he had sustained other injuries as well, mostly along his stomach, back and head but, it was just pain and disorientation at this point. He wouldn't be able to tell what was hurt until he'd cut himself free of the debris trapping him. When he felt his blood pressure rise, and his breath quicken, he stopped sawing on the debris and took a break.

It wouldn't do him any good to lose control because of the increasing sense of claustrophobia. When the small pinprick of light disappeared, he new that night had fallen. Fortunately by then, he'd been able to cut himself free, and reach that wider area ahead of him. His leg was broken, and carefully removing his helmet and lightly fingering his skull  revealed a minor concussion, that he was sure of as the disorientation still plagued his senses. He'd stripped off his chest and torso armor and found minor lacerations along his stomach and sides but, a piece of drywall had buried itself in his back near his shoulder blades. He could feel it especially when he propped himself up against the wall, away from the claustrophobic confines of where he'd awoken.

"Guess I'll hunker down here for the night" he muttered to himself as sleep drifted in easily. When morning came, if it came, it was still dark inside. Only the pin prick of light that he'd spotted the day before gave him any indication of the time. Dragging himself over to the wall, he wrapped his knuckles on it a few times, trying to determine how thick this particular piece of debris was. It really hadn't told him anything as far as inches, or footage went. He wasn't a construction worker, or ever a carpenter. So, he just began working away at the wall, pausing every now and then to catch his breath. When he did finally make an opening in the wall, the debris had shifted but, he could tell that on the other side was freedom and possibly safety. He saw a hallway, and evening light streaming in through the windows. He made the opening a little wider and then tried to fit himself through.

It hadn't worked the first time, or the second, and the third time just about killed him as more debris dislodged and tried to smash him. Fortunately, he'd been able to squeeze himself through and clear his injured leg, just as the wall, and the remainder of the ceiling collapsed. He sat against the wall, and blacked out due to the pain. When he awoke, the sun was close to the horizon but, he could see some kind of action going on a few blocks away, and hear the sound of a Gauss Warthog's turret firing, though he couldn't see it. Help was only a few blocks away but, he wouldn't make it there easily in his condition. He had to find a way to splint his broken leg, and make some sort of crutches, or something for him to lean against to take the weight off of his injured leg. First thing first though, he had to make a splint. Seeing two pieces of piping that had been dislodged from the ceiling, he crawled over and drug them out after some effort, and placed them on either side of his broken leg. He removed his armored chest piece slowly, then used his knife to cut away at his sleeves so he could bind the small pipes to his leg.

Tying the strips of cloth hurt like hell but, he'd been through much worse. After he was done though, he fell asleep for a few hours, letting the pain subside. When he woke again, he found himself staring at a Phantom, just outside his window. He had a moment of panic before he realized that his helmet was still on, he polarized the visor, and then waited for the Phantom to leave. A light washed over him, trained on his form for a second, and then disappeared. He watched as the Phantom slowly drifted away down the block somewhere. Bracing himself against the actual wall, he made himself stand up, gritting his teeth through the pain as he hopped his way down the hall, towards the singular door. That door led to a stairwell.

Cursing, he sighed and hopped over to the rail, and leaning heavily against it, he made his way down the stairs, one step at a time.

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Gladiator's hand drifted among a field of wheat, colored in gold and white, the bristles of their heads softly playing with his skin, tickling him. Looking up, he saw a gorgeous gold and red sunset on the horizon, farms and water towers dotted the landscape. Then suddenly, the image shifted. No longer were the fields gold and white but, glassed over, burning, and black. The farms that had once dotted the landscape were blown open, or reduced to their foundations. Rim joices and crawl spaces lay exposed to the air. Bodies were everywhere consisting of both Human and Covenant. Suddenly he was running, through fields of ash, following a blood trail that led from an Elite that had it's chest cavity blown open, to a single tree that was scorched from the heat but, the top most layer of branches still held it's green leaves.

Sitting propped up by each other, their hands holding one another, lay two civilians that had bled out due to their wounds. The girl, with a pretty face and long brown hair, had her eyes closed, he lips which were now blue, were pursed ever so slightly, as if she had just finished telling the boy she laid against "I love you". A plasma wound marred the right side of her stomach. She'd died excruciatingly, painfully. Confusion clouded the Spartan's mind. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be! Suddenly the huge Spartan crashed to his knees, the earth rumbling in complaint with the impact, as he looked at the boy, the full impact of what he was seeing dawning on him. The young man had full head of black hair, his jaw and facial features strong and determined, his striking blue eyes that had once been alert, were glossed over and lifeless. A Covenant energy sword wound marred his stomach and spilled his intestines onto the ground. One hand held an old shotgun, it's polished wood work marred by the streaks of blue alien blood, the Elite's. He'd killed his attacker, and died in his lover's arms. Gladiator removed his helmet, setting it onto the ground, and moved to caress his own face.

Gasping and coughing, Gladiator groaned as he woke from the memory. His head felt like it had been split open, and his whole body was on fire. It took all the self control he had to not lift himself into a sitting position, and throw the helmet from his head. He wanted to vomit. He looked around gingerly, remembering where he was and what had just happened a few minutes ago, trying to keep in mind that he was lying prone on the bridge, and that his position was open and vulnerable. Slowly, he looked around with his eyes, trying not to move his head. A gray muddy spider-webbed looking sky was the first thing he saw through his cracked visor, but, he didn't see any Banshees flying about, or a Phantom carrier overhead. A good sign. They'd probably mistaken him for dead.

Seeing that nothing was around him thus far, he craned his head back and looked behind him. Nothing besides the broken heap of metal that had been the Gauss Warthog at the bridge's apex, a whole lot of civilian and Covenant vehicle debris littered the street between him and the 'hog, he could also see bodies that belonged to both Human and alien. He noticed the Warthog was leaning against something, the front of the vehicle smashed but, resting against the ground, it's rear was in the air with the underside of the armored all terrain vehicle facing him. He couldn't see what it was that the wrecked thing was resting against though.

He tried to zoom in on the Warthog, to see if Patric was in it's vicinity but, the HUD only groaned. Groaning himself, he gently lifted his head and checked to see if there was anything coming his way from ahead of him. Again nothing. He checked himself over before sitting up, he didn't seem to have anything broken but, he could tell a couple of his fingers had been jammed. His entire body hurt but, he'd been extremely fortunate. Groaning softly, he managed to roll himself onto his stomach, and then push himself up into a kneeling position. Taking his helmet off gingerly, he found that the hardened up-link remote sensor package atop his helmet, or the HR/RS, had been smashed almost beyond recognition. He set the helmet down for a second and gingerly ran his fingers over his military cut black hair, grimacing and taking a breath due to pain, as his fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot at the top of his head. He guessed that he had a small concussion. A moment later, when he tried to stand, he knew he was right as his vision swam and he stumbled back into a kneeling position. His DMR rifle was only a few feet away, so he crawled over to it slowly and gathered it into his shaking hands.

Making sure to not make any sudden movements, he looked around for his sniper rifle, which he spotted ten feet or so away from him. Lifting the DMR's scope up to his eyes, he looked through the scope but, his hands were shaking badly, making the sights jump. Growling, he magnetised the weapon to his thigh, then tried to stand again, only to stumble back to the ground. His stomach chose that moment to growl it's complaints. He crawled over to his sniper rifle and gathered it into his arms as well, checking it over. It was badly damaged from having been underneath him while he skidded on the road but, the scope was intact, and the weapon was usable. He made his way towards the crashed Warthog, taking his time. Halfway there, he found that he could finally stand if he held still but, walking now proved a challenge.

When he finally arrived at the destroyed vehicle, he'd found that there was no sign of Patric. Leaning up against the bus that was propping up the Warthog, the Spartan allowed himself a moments rest before he heard the high pitched squeaks and squeals of a Grunt, and the deep toned language of an Elite. Gently laying himself down, he looked beneath the bus, past it's remaining tires, and spotted the aliens, and their Wraith Tank. Luckily for him, it looks as if they were doing some routine maintenance on the tank, as both of the aliens were outside it and messing with some panels. Gladiator cursed silently in his head, as he felt the adrenaline kick in. They could find him at any moment, and he was in no condition to go toe to toe with an Elite.

In my condition the Grunt alone might be a challenge for me[/color] he thought as he sat up and slowly scooted himself around to the back of the wrecked Warthog, where they wouldn't be able to see him come on Spartan! Think, think!

[Sushi]

Any soldier who had ever fought against Covenant armor never forgot the distinct sounds of a M68 gauss cannon - especially those that stood close enough to get permanent hearing damage from it. Mounted to a 'Hog it was one of the most mobile and deadly weapons the UNSC ground forces had, and it made a joke out of Covenant weapons traverse. It was the very distinctive whine and slam of the weapon that had drawn the Spartan to the site of a recent battle on a large bridge.

Two Banshees lazily circled overhead, occasionally firing a burst of plasma at the remnants of a fight. Dozens of dead covenant and Marines alike trailed to the site of a Warthog crash. The vehicle had flipped over, warped enough to put it out of action without a full retrofit.  Like a crime-scene technician, the Spartan traced the course the vehicle had taken before it had wrecked, through the road, past the bodies and wrecked vehicles... and one intact vehicle.

Some covvie felt bold enough to service their Type 26 assault carriage virtually completely out in the open, using only the wrecks of the 'Hog and a bus for concealment. From her vantage point in the buildings at the foot of the bridge, it would be an easy shot. But her concern was the multiple Banshees and any ground forces they could summon. Without backup, the Spartan would have to pick a more manageable fight. Valkyrie considered if the gauss weapon on the vehicle might still be usable...

There seemed to be movement by the wreckage. Valkyrie hit the zoom on her visor, bringing the far-off Warthog wreck into sharp clarity. To her surprise, another Spartan was using the vehicle for cover. His armor was a rich blue, even with a layer of burn marks and bullet dents, and the cracked visor in his helm was still recognizable as a V-shaped "scout" model from a distance. She didn't recognize the soldier, so she could only assume he was a Spartan-III. A replacement for her breed, Valkyrie mused.

An attempt to establish a secure laser communications line had failed, so she assumed his comms array was disabled by the incident. That didn't leave many options, but the spartan knew that the longer she waited, the more chance covenant would have to repair and rearm. Valkyrie shouldered her MA-5K and activated the illuminator under the muzzle, flashing it at the other spartan until she eventually got his attention. She carefully motioned downwards, instructing the wounded man to take cover. She hefted the M19 launcher and gave the man a "thumbs-up" before disappearing into the ruins.

Valkyrie found her vantage point in short order. She brought the rocket launcher to shoulder as it interfaced with her suit's targeting systems. The magnified image of the weapon's sight was visible in the display as she meticulously sighted in the Wraith. The elite driver and a few grunts were working on several access panels in the sides, with wiring leading up to the open hatch in the top.

Not all precision work was done with a rifle. A six-hundred meter shot with a 120mm shaped charge flying on a column of fire was something that needed more than patience alone. It took a special sort of dedication to work out the math that the computer could occasionally screw up on and be willing to expose your position the moment you fired. But when it actually happened, it felt surprisingly hands-off. Once you launched the explosive, there was little you could do to affect the decision you just made.

Luckily for Valkyrie, she was usually on target. The rocket landed almost dead center in the Wraith's cabin, exploding in a narrow plume of fire that fried out all the controls and instantly disabled the armored beast. The confused covenant were looking around for an attacker when the second slammed into the ground by their feet, overloading the elite warrior's shield and killing the grunt technicians. The Spartan flipped open the launcher's feed cover and fed another two rounds in as she ran to the nearby stairwell. At roof level, she sighted in one of the two Banshees and acquired a lock. By the time they found a location to bombard with fuel rods, the the rocket had lifted into the air and torn the lead fighter into molten metal.

Valkyrie eyed the green bar marking her shield level as it recharged. As soon as it filled up, she vaulted out the nearby window and slid down the cable rigged on it's edge, sliding down the front of the building in a few seconds. Common sense said to rescue the wounded as soon as possible, but she also needed to take the covenant's attention away from his hiding spot.

Valkyrie hit the arming stud on a grenade and hurled it into the air. The grenade exploded a foot from an elite's face, ripping off its head as it was driven into the ground. The confused grunts and jackals under its command responded with a flurry of needles and plasma fire that left her cover a slagged mess. But the spartan had already relocated, and accurate bursts of 7.62mm fire were raking into the unarmored covenant soldiers with gruesome effects.

For half an hour, she crept through the wreckage littering the bridge, taking out small groups of covenant with bursts of rifle fire and grenades. Eventually, the last covenant warrior was left to ferment in their blue blood. Valkyrie dropped her field pack by the bus and started to load her pouches with fresh magazines, casually waving over the other spartan.

[ashia starstreak]

"Doesn't matter which floor, so long as we're free from covenant for the time being." Shana answere the injured spartan. Carefully letting him go, the marine made her way to the button display and pressed a '2' and a '5' just to get the elevator moving. Looking up, Shana bit her lip and tapped a boot impatiently. The doors were moving too slow, her brain couldn't help from placing her into a state of panic.

As the doors finally began to close, two long fingers slid their way into the space. Red armor glistened within the artifical lighting as an elite suddenly appeared before the two soldiers. In Surprise, Shana jumped back. Luck was on their side and before the alien could lift his rifle the door closed, his fingers withdrawing at the last second.

"Ooooh, damn it!" Shana growled placing her hands up and balling them into fists. Throwing a punch to the space between her and the wall, the short woman let out an elongated sigh. She could not believe the elite had taken her by surprise. Switching her weight from foot to foot, Shana shook her hands. "Ooh man..hit me I flinched." She said and turned her attention to Hunter. Leaning forward to him, the marine brought her arm out for him to punch, but before the Spartan could make a move, the elevator came to an abrupt halt and shook Shana off balance, knocking her helmet off her head due to not being securely strapped back on since her decoy with the covenant earlier. Placing her hands out, she saved herself from falling on top of Hunter. As she regained her baring, she looked up and around. "What in the hell was that?"

The evevator groaned loudly and shook once more, the force pushing shana backwards into the corner. As her forearm highlighted the '3' and '4' buttons, the elevator gave and her and the Spartan went plumpeting down. The last thing Shana saw was her face making contact with the hand rail, opposite of her position.

[Hunter Phoenix]

Hunter jumped when he saw the elite in front of him, trying to get into the elevator with them. He wouldn't be able to fight it if it managed to reach them. Fortunately it didn't come to that as the doors closed, cutting the outside world off. When Shana hit a couple of buttons he began to relax a little. He was about to tell Shana she was insane for wanting him to hit her arm and was about to decline when all of a sudden the elevator stopped and then plummeted.

Shana was knocked out when her head connected with the hand railing, but Hunter managed to hold on as they fell. Suddenly the elevator stopped several floors down and Hunter howled in pain as his legs gave out and pain shot through his broken one, which he was sure had just shattered from the impact. Falling to the floor with pain in both his leg and his ribs, he could only just hold on to consciousness enough to take his helmet off. He let out one loud howl of pain and then slumped into darkness, a small trickle of blood escaping his mouth.

[Gladiator0161]

Gladiator's heart was starting to race with worry, with how bad his hands were shaking now, due to the stress that was increasing of not being able to sight a weapon properly. He'd checked the Elite driver and the Grunt gunner again, making sure that they didn't know about his presence. They didn't, they just continued with their maintenance. He began to get frustrated with his current condition. He was too weak from exhaustion to stand, and too nerve wracked from his latest near death experience to fight. He was pinned, exposed and very, very vulnerable, worst of all, he knew it. He could see the end of his life play out before his eyes, the Elite stepping around the corner simply checking the perimeter, seeing the helpless Spartan, and reacting in surprise. Himself futilely trying to shoot the Elite before it brought it's weapon to bare, then the hot fiery sting of plasma fire that would end his life against this god forsaken all terrain jeep, the alien's cruel four pronged grin as the life faded from his body. His fists clenched, he couldn't go out that way, not after all he'd done to try and protect Humanity from extinction. Suddenly a red laser sight beam caught his attention as it moved up his leg and to his chest, breaking him from his imaginary endings. Gladiator jerked to the side on instinct, or started to, but, stopped himself as the laser sight suddenly dipped to the road and stayed there for a second.

The relief that he felt was obvious and visible as his shoulders slumped and his head rocked forward. He raised his hand, gave the air a thumbs up, indicating that he understood, before saluting a thank you to his savior, and then using the remainder of his strength to throw himself to the ground as he spotted two puffs of smoke from a building over by the wharf. He made himself crawl a few meters but, then just laid flat on the ground as the two MK-5 Rockets passed by overhead and detonated against the Wraith Tank. He could hear the aliens cry out in surprise a split second before each one died, one squealing in terror while the other raged at it's failure. He could hear the sounds of battle from up ahead, apparently the Covenant had sent reinforcements to help keep the bridge. Looking up, he saw a lone Spartan jog up the road a few minutes later. He'd never been so grateful to see another Spartan. As the Spartan got closer, he saw that it was a woman underneath the armor, probably a Mark II like himself.

He immediately recognized the CQC helmet, Mark 5 Recon Chassis and Para Knee guards that she wore, all of which were colored in Tan and Black. He was probably never going to live this down but, he couldn't have cared less at the moment. He was just grateful to have backup. She dropped her field pack and started to load fresh magazines into her pouches. A moment later, she casually motioned him over. He was momentarily confused as to why she wasn't speaking through the comms when he realized that his own must have been knocked out during the crash. Sitting up took some effort but, he managed it, and crawled over to her obediently. Taking his helmet off for a moment, he grimaced against the day's sunlight and for once took notice of the dried blood on his face as he looked at his helmet's visor examining it closer. Sure enough, right where the comm relay was supposed to be housed, a big gash had been sliced right through it, and then smashed open due to the compression by the HR/RS. Looking to the new arrival, he gave a weary smile and said "Thanks for that, you saved my life. I'm Gladiator, Sierra zero one six one, you arrived just in time Spartan. Got any more friendlies with you?"

[Sushi]

"Don't thank me until I actually fix you up. Bingo friendlies, unfortunately." Valkyrie slapped the mag to ensure the bullets were seated, then tucked it into her gear. She knelt beside the wounded spartan and dug into her medical supplies, injecting biofoam in a few key places through access ports in his suit. She briefly interfaced with Gladiator's suit to check pulse and blood pressure. "... very slow BPM and a failing blood pressure. You've lost a lot of blood from your wounds." Valkyrie pulled the other spartan to his feet, dragging him over to the bus and smashing the door inward with a stout kick. Easing the wounded soldier into a comfortable position, she took her pack and climbed in.

It was cramped, but out of view and relatively safe from the odd plasma bolt. Valkyrie went to work rapidly, hooking an IV into Gladiator's arm and connecting it to an artificial blood transfusion bottle. A few more administrations of biofoam and a painkiller drip set the man up for a slow, but definite recovery. A small assortment of gear landed at the wounded soldier's feet - field rations, water, grenades and a stamped steel can of ammunition. "That's standard ball ammo. None of the high-velocity DMR stuff, sorry, but ammo is ammo." The M392 was designed to share ammo with the MA-5 series if necessary, but relied on ultra-high pressure, armor piercing ammo for its performance. The spartan was actually relieved the man hadn't carried a battle rifle, which carried a heavier type of ammo she hadn't brought with her.

The immediate situation seemingly handled, Valkyrie turned to the spartan. "A UNSC-standard SOS signal pinged my sensor array briefly. It went out before I could get an exact location, but I have a general area. Was anyone with you when the M12 crashed?"