 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
The Agent and The Lieutenant (A Militaristic PoV)
Posted By: Matt Civ<matt_civ@hotmail.com>
Date: 7 November 2005, 3:31 am
Read/Post Comments
|
note: After playing both Halo games i was inspired by those super cool marines and the books the see the story from the point of view of some marines and an ONI agent. I hope you enjoy it.
1800 hours, November 12, 2552 (military calendar)
Edge of apolis system, exact location: classified
Operation: Houseguest
"Covenant blood is so strange." Webb churned this thought over in his mind as he wiped his combat knife on his sleeve. "It's so thick and vile, yet feels so familiar…so human." He looked down at the body of the elite he'd killed, its throat was still gushing purple-green gore onto the burnished metal floor. "They're even uglier when they're dead." He whispered to himself as he sheathed his knife. "He was only a blue armored rookie, nothing to write home about." He chuckled to himself as he slid a fresh clip into his modified SMG. "Now things are gonna get ugly."
Special agent Ethan Webb (a.k.a Orion) knew that he couldn't stick around. He had to make best speed to his final objective: he needed to disable this instillation's detection gear so that a trio of Longsword fighter/bombers could swoop in and send all the damned bastards to Hell! Webb holstered his SMG. "I'll need to go in silent from now on" he thought, as he quickly slipped on a pair of matte black gloves. Webb heard the squeaks and the clip-clop of grunts approaching his position. He wedged himself in between two conduits. Webb had already stashed the body of the elite, so he waited patiently as the three grunts passed by him one by one. He could tell by the way they moved that they thought they had no need to fear this particular corridor; they were his favorite kind of Covenant; stupid. When the third one past him he stepped out from his cover and was behind the hapless rear grunt in one stride. He separated the grunt's head from the base of its spine in one deft movement. He kicked the legs out from under the second one, drew his combat knife and buried it into the leader's throat. He turned to rip off the respirator of the rising grunt. Webb tossed the squirming grunt between a pair of conduits along with its squad mates.
The journey into the communications node of the instillation took just over two hours. Ethan had avoided detection by scrambling security systems with electro-shaft and squeezing himself into the vaulted ceiling of the corridors and walking scissor-legged above patrols of grunts and jackals. He now approached what was most likely the COM station he was looking for, all he needed to do was insert a data-scavenger program into their systems and tag the place for the bombers. All of this would have went off without a hitch if it had not been for the three elites guarding the area and the fact that the Covenant systems would know they'd been hacked in about four and a half minutes. Ethan decided to resort to some rather archaic tactics. He never let the techs at ONI pack his gear; he liked to pack some special items that some people liked to call "Old School." Webb clutched two rather normal looking grenades in his hands, he was still hanging from a row of pipes on the ceiling, so when he threw the grenades, he angled them toward opposite walls of the room. The clang from bouncing grenades attracted the attention of the guards to either side of the chamber. The fist to go off was the "Flash-bang." Webb shielded his eyes and ears from the blinding light and bang of the grenade and snapped on a re-breather to his helmet as he fell into the chaos on ground. Before the elites could clear their vision and steady the startled grunts, who had started shooting in random directions, the second grenade detonated and Ethan landed next to a jackal seated at a large important looking console. The chamber was suddenly beginning to fill with a thick red smoke. The aliens were too busy convulsing on the floor and tearing at their burning eyes and throats to notice Ethan initiating the program that would allow his buddies to drop nine BEHEMOTH missiles onto their listening station. This station was the first Covenant structure to be found by the UNSC, everyone hoped it was the gateway into Covenant territory. Ethan only had 2 minutes and 30 seconds to activate his SATCOM uplink, tag the station and get the hell out of there before the aliens knew he was there. Ethan grabbed two silenced MD6 pistols from his rucksack, which he affectionately called "Valkyries", he immediately began sprinting down the corridor to where the emergency escape craft were docked. In such a secure place such as this, that area should be relatively unguarded. 1 minute 40 seconds. As he rounded a corner, Ethan spotted a file of grunts, five coughs from his Valkyries and his path was clear again. 1 minute. Just as Ethan reached the lifeboat area, a very pissed looking elite in red armor blocked his path! Without slowing, Ethan ran up along the wall to his left and sent six 7.23 AP slugs for the alien's elongated head. While coming down off the wall, Ethan winced as two rounds cleanly missed, but a smile crossed his rough features as the next three impacted his shields and the final round punched through and exited its skull spattering gore along the opposite wall. 45 seconds. Ethan punched the door release and seated himself at the pilot station. The security systems came back online just as Ethan pulled away from the dock couplings, elite hunter-killer teams raced through the station desperately searching for the infidel who had disgraced them. As Ethan acquainted himself with the alien controls and set a rendezvous course to the Prowler ONI had stashed for him near a local moon, he wished he could see the faces of those proud Covenant bastards when they turned into a Super Nova. Ethan calculated the coordinates for a jump to the ONI base orbiting Mars, as he thumbed the activation switch he spoke silently to himself "I'll make them suffer, I'll make them feel the pain they've caused. I swear my life on it!"
0600 hours, November 18, 2552 (military Calendar)
Sol system, Earth, New Philadelphia
Marine squad Omega on shore leave
Lieutenant J.G Sanchez had forgotten how much she loved shore leave. Her squad had been on the front lines fighting the Covenant for the past three years, this was their first leave in almost two years. They probably only got it 'cause someone in the Admiralty took note that they'd all been to hell and back and kicked ass while they were in town. Unlike the others in her squad, who hung at the bars for the most of their five days, herself and Stephanie King decided to stay at a nice hotel. The plan has to lounge around for a while, soak in a luxurious bubble bath for over an hour then go meet the boys to make sure they weren't up to any mischief. After a good soaking, Cristina Sanchez examined herself in front of a mirror. She was about 5' 8''; she was in top physical shape and dark brown hair that hung around her shoulders, way over regulation. "Command does have its privileges," she thought to herself. Although she was attractive, some marines would even say "hot", she hated seeing her naked body. She had some pretty unsightly plasma burns on her stomach and right arm, not enough to inhibit motor skills but just enough to make her feel sorry for herself. Cristina's years of military discipline helped her banish these thoughts from her mind; she pulled on a pair of jet-black cargo pants and slipped into a white tank top. "It's time to party," she said to herself with a slight smile crossing her lips.
Private Patrick O'Malley downed the last of his beer and set the mug on the counter rather shakily. Sure, being of nearly pure Irish decent had its perks but even he had his limits, twelve beers beyond the limit of most other non-Celtics. "Yo, Molly! You up for a game of pool" Patrick swiveled on his stool to face his buddy, "no thanks Christer" he yelled back, "I think I'll just take in the scenery" nodding toward a group of attractive women. "I hear ya! But I say you have a better chance of getting a date with the Lt.! And you know she hates you" Christer hollered back. "Your on!" Slurred Pat. Private Chris Blouin turned back to his game of billiards and O'Malley elected to just rest his head on the counter for a while; he was out cold within the minute.
Patrick awoke with a start and opened his eyes to the sight of a daunting black man with a goatee and shaven head shaking his shoulders roughly. As Pat's other senses started to take in his environment he realized that he was in a smoke filled bar he had been in earlier. "Rise and shine Molly" was all he understood of the garbled sentence the man had directed his way. "What?" Pat inquired. "I said: get your ass into the 'hog, we're dusting off!" replied the now impatient sounding man. Everything seemed to flood back to the young private. He was on Earth on shore leave with the rest of his squad and he was being spoken to by Sgt. Biggs! Now fully alert, Pat said "Sir yes sir! Moving sir!" "Damn right you are" growled the sarge. As O'Malley bolted for the 'crew' 'hog parked outside, Biggs followed him muttering "lightweight…"
Lt. Sanchez had received the re-call order just as she had settled down for a nice sit-down dinner, a rare commodity while on duty, now she was standing at the back hatch of Captain Gualtieri's Pelican. Cristina was still missing four soldiers when she noticed a warthog gunning its way toward the pad. "Haul ass boys!" she yelled over the whine of the transport's engines. Sgt. Biggs, Pvt. O'Malley, Pvt. Blouin and Mendoza piled into to bird and Cristina sealed the hatch. Sanchez gripped a handhold on the bulkhead, she could tell that they all loathed leaving the laid back city, but she had a feeling that by the sound of Admiral White's voice; he had something fun in store for Fire-Team Omega. "We'll be clearing the atmosphere in two minutes and will rendezvous with the Exodus at 0247 hours." The never flinch navy flier voice crackled through the hold speakers. "Rodger that GG" replied Sanchez as she turned to address her team. "I hope you all enjoyed your time groundside, 'cause we're back on active duty." She was met by mostly vacant stares, an exasperated sigh from Jenson and smile from Wesley Biggs. Sgt. Biggs, more commonly referred to by the squad as 'Boss', was 100% grade-A marine corps and had toured with Avery Johnson back before she was born. The only reason he wasn't leading her whole unit was because he wasn't exactly on even footing with the brass. Cristina knew that she could depend on him for support during intense combat situations; he was rock solid. Her NCO (non-commanding officer) Michael Perez wasn't as experienced as Biggs but knew what it took to kill Covenant. Perez's most useful ability was actually his relationship with the others in the team; he could tell what the squad was feeling. That was very useful info for the CO. Cristina positioned herself near the aft hatch of the pelican, grabbed a handhold and pinged Biggs of the Command Freq. "Yes?" he replied into her helmet's comm. "Would you mind organizing everyone for when we dock with the Exodus" she sent back. "Sure thing ma'am" he replied as he unbuckled his crash webbing. As Biggs gave the marines orders to head straight for the gear station on the Exodus and then to prep, Cristina tried to gather her thoughts. "Why would they send us there? I thought that system had been abandoned after the Covenant glassed the colony there." As GG settled the pelican into the docking couplings and her marines piled out of the bird, she decided that she'd 'cut through the crap' after she was properly briefed.
Pat O'Malley dashed to his gear locker in the marine's deck on the destroyer with Biggs breathing down his neck. He peeled out of his sloppy civilian clothes and slipped into his fatigues. After pulling on his combat boots and clipping an MD6 to his tactical web, he fastened his ballistics armor. The whole team took some time to select standard-issue weaponry. Christer hefted a Jackhammer launcher, Kirby grabbed two SMGs and slung a SM A2 sniper rifle on her shoulder and Sgt. Biggs took a Battle Rifle, Magnum and a satchel of C12. Pat selected a M60 shotgun with thirty-six .6 gauge depleted uranium slugs as ammo – 'Elite Killers' and 5 fragmentation grenades. Pat fastened his helmet as he and the rest of Fire-Team Omega jogged to the prep and briefing chamber. Marine squad Omega hurried into the assembly hall and froze in their tracks, even Sgt. Biggs' jaw dropped slightly, standing before them and 450 other UNSC soldiers were no fewer than six ONI officers. There hadn't been that many in one place since the beginning of the war, some of the team just about lost it when they saw who flanked the six intelligence officers…four SPARTAN-II super soldiers! including the famed Master Chief.
note: If i get enough positive comments, i'll continue posting more of it. I'm 13 pages (8000 words)in and not slowing down.
|
