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Authors Note: Despite the title of this chapter, it is NOT the last one, I assure you. We haven't even met the Lancer's ye... I shouldn't have said that. You didn't just hear me say that. Any way's, after dragging you through a few boring chapters, this one is going to be pretty much one big fight scene, with plenty of explosions and flesh wounds, so go grab a cola of your choice. I know this chapter has been a while coming, I'm sorry. My computer was infected with 53 viruses. With Xbox LIVE! dropping today, don't expect to see another chapter until at least Wednesday, hehehe...

      "Alright Marines, don't even think about the big bad hunters. We have to shoot a few Jackal's and Elite's before we take those bad boys on. Boomer, Major Izzy, Dubbo, Mendoza, give your Jackal friends a warm welcome." The Sarge barked.
      "Sir, yes sir." Boomer replied.
      The Twins opened the door and discharged their shotguns in unison into the back of the unlucky Jackal standing near the door, holstered them, pulled out their rifles, and stepped back to let the other Marines continue the fight.
      "Damnit Boomer, I hate attacking with you. I always get shot, last time I got shot in the ass!" Said Major Izzy, an African American man, much like the Sarge, who had broken the record for Purple Hearts awarded to one man.
      "Just be quite and stay low, after our shotgun calling card I doubt we can take any by surprise" Boomer grumbled.
      Everyone entered the room, Boomer and Izzy in the lead, moving from bits of fallen ceiling for cover. This area of the base had sustained heavy damage, and cover in the form of debris was most plentiful.
      "Hold up, I think I see an energy shield poking up over there, near the other door." Private Dubbo whispered.
      "I see it to. Ok, I'll throw two grenades, if they try to run everyone stand up and spray your assault rifles. On three Marines." Boomer ordered, pulling two grenades from his belt and pulling the pins, getting ready to release the safety, and starting the countdown.
      Two grenades flew through the air. One landed just behind the Jackal's, the other hit the shield that Dubbo had spotted with a dull thud and bounced to the ground. They let out their typical bird like scream, running and keeping themselves covered with shields. But, as they turned tail to run, no less than four MA5B Assault Rifles opened fire, reflecting off the shields, but at the same time making them lose their grip on the shields and throwing off balance. One fell to the ground, the others started to slip. Inside the grenades the delay was running short, burning down to the fuse, and boom. Several Jackals were introduced to the joys of shrapnel as their bodies flew up to the ceiling and back down again.
      "Area secured Sarge, that was easy enough..." Boomer reported into his radio, letting an empty clip slide out and fall to the ground and slapping a new one in.
      "Roger that, I saw the hole thing. We're going to let our resident super soldiers mop up the Elite's in the next room." The Sarge chuckled as Outlaw and Switchblade entered the room.
      Boomer approached the cover of the Jackal's, surveying the damage. Not much, four dead bodies and some blackened floor, something still didn't feel quite right though. As these thoughts were going through Boomer's mind, a plasma pistol was charging to the left of him, and the Jackal that held it was ready to avenge the death of his comrades.
      As it charged, Outlaw walked up to him and checked the bodies of the Jackal's to see if he could use their Shield's or pistols. A static hiss filled the air, and he reacted at twenty milliseconds, clutching Boomer's arm and pulling him to the floor.
      "What the?!" Boomer yelled on the way down.
      Switchblade ran as if he were a blur, and drove the handles of his pistols hard into the back of the Jackal as if they were hammers, and he heard and felt bones crack under the force of the blow.
      "Sorry about that, I just didn't want some important area of your body getting incinerated." Outlaw chuckled, standing he and Boomer back up.
      "Thanks I suppose..." Boomer replied, somewhat shocked at the speed of which everything had just happened.
      The deadly duo approached the door and paused to see if Jenkin's could confirm how many Elite's were on the other side.
      "Alright, I'm sure that there are six now. Its your lucky day, just like with the Jackal one is facing the other way right inside the door, easy prey for you two." Jenkins informed them, getting a somewhat malice grin.
      "But that's an elite, we can't take him down with one hi...oh right." Outlaw said, somewhat embarrassed "Ok, open it up."
      The doors slid open, and before the Elite could even turn to inquire what he thought was a Jackal making an hourly report, a fist cracked his spine, and his two jaws went limp. He had been dead before he could even activate his shield.
      Outlaw kept the Elite propped up, took control of its hand, and fired its Plasma Rifle, using him like a big, deadly puppet, until it started to vent excess heat. He let the body slide to the ground but kept the Plasma Rifle, his Rocket Launcher was slung over his shoulder, as he side stepped behind the cover of the doorjam.
      "Ok, I think they're mad now Switch, how about working a little high caliber magic..." Outlaw said, stroking his new toy as the ammo count appeared in his HUD, seventy six.
      The Elite's were so tall that the ceiling debris didn't completely cover them, and even though they didn't know it the very top of their head stuck up above the jagged ridges of debris. Several loud shots fired, and two more Elite's fell to the ground with head wounds, more like holes really. The remaining three crouched a little lower, behind the cover provided by debris.
      "Three down, three to go." Switchblade reported.
      "Alright, three on two sounds fair enough, lets go." Outlaw said.
      They entered the room, Outlaw holding his newly acquired Plasma Rifle, Switchblade his trusty Pistol's. They jumped and ran over and through debris, plasma from Outlaw fired and knocked out the shields of an Elite just as a hail of semi-explosive rounds from a Pistol tore his chest to pieces. At this, they both crouched down and the air around them sizzled and popped as plasma rounds zoomed over head.
      "Ok, we've got two left, their grouped together, three meters ahead at ten o'clock." Switchblade informed Outlaw.
      "Alright, sounds easy enough" He replied hoisting his rocket launcher.
      "They're also right next to the structural beam for all three levels above and below this one, no explosives." Switchblade said, pulling Outlaw back down as he tried to stand up, Rocket Launcher over his shoulder.
"Ok then, stay here, I'll be right back." Outlaw said, running away in a crouch. Even in a group of two he ran off from the group...
      Switchblade sighed and just stayed crouching, already figuring what Outlaw was trying to pull. He heard two plasma rifles fire, shields sizzled, an Elite let out a roar. The firing stopped for a moment, then that same Elite roared once again as his ribs were broken by a slap from a Plasma Rifle. There was a thud as it hit the ground, dead or in a coma, then several more pops as Plasma Rifles discharged once again. This time it sounded like plasma hitting the Elite instead of a shield, and there was another thud.
      "Its safe to come out now, I only got hit once or twice." Outlaw chuckled, as if getting shot now was a joking matter.
      "Even in a group of two you run off." Switchblade snapped back, examining the blackened bits of chest armor.
      "C12, run a scan, is my suit compromised?" Outlaw said to seemingly no one.
      "Negative, all systems are normal, slight burning detected to upper right chest armor." A disembodied voice replied.
      "Damn lucky if you ask me, don't do that again" Switchblade grumbled.
      "Sarge, we cleared out the room. Anyone who wants a Plasma Rifle or grenade should come in here now. We're probably going to need them." Outlaw said into his helmet radio.
      "Roger that, move it up Marines, time to take on the big bad Hunters." The old warhorse joked once again.
      They all knew that attacking this next room could be the last thing they ever did. They didn't care, after spending two weeks on a rock you'll do anything, even if "anything" is taking on fifteen Special Ops Hunter's. They all got in position, the doors leading to the next one were large enough that five of them standing shoulder to shoulder could move through, and there were two doors. The room was also quite large, a repair station for the vehicles kept in the shuttle bay.
      "Ok, here's the game plan, stay low and out of sight, if your going to fire on a Hunter you should ALL fire on the Hunter, fire from just one of us at a time isn't going to do JACK to their armor. If you see a cannon charging up, let the intended targets know so they can get out of dodge. This fight won't be easy, and it'll end fast if we don't work together. Outlaw and Switchblade will be taking the point, Boomer and the marines in the middle, and I'll hang back to guard the Techs in the rear." The Sarge commanded.
      "Sir, yes sir!" everyone barked.
      Everyone stood together, waiting for the Spartans to go through their respective doors. Once they went through and got under cover, everyone would follow. At that point, Jenkin's would trigger the autocannons. Once their ammo was depleted, the fight would begin in earnest.
      "Major Zecks, I feel the need to tell you that the probability of us winning this engagement is seven thousand two hundred and thirty nine to one." The AI C12 said.
      "Shutup C12" Outlaw replied.
Outlaw and Switchblade crouched down, moving among debris silently. Once they found cover that suited them, they gave the signal. Switchblade chose to stay behind a table with debris scattered in front of it, so he could stay covered and have a base for his rifle at the same time. Outlaw chose a pile with a small hole, just big enough for a rocket tube, to crouch behind. They signaled the group and they moved forward, Boomer leading the Marines fearlessly per usual into a fight that could be their last. The Sarge was also following the normal routine, staying back and monitoring video feeds.
      "Alright Marines, before we get the party started I just want to give you a little refresher course on what we're about to kill. Special Ops Hunters can fire their Fuel Rod Cannons just as fast as you can fire your M6D's, and the weak spot in the rear has a cover over it. Nothing short of a sniper round can get through that plate. The weak spot in front, however, is exposed, albeit covered by their shield most of the time." The Sarge lectured "Roll out the carpet, Jenkin's."
      As the order was given, several hidden panels along the walls and on the ceiling and floor retracted, exposing ten Covenant killing machines, autocannons. They began firing, the roar louder than a Warthog's LAAG and just as deadly. The barrels spun faster than the eye could track, ripping into Hunter armor and flesh. Most of the Hunter's were caught off guard, and the four that had been standing near a wall, right in front of the cannons actually, were shredded instantly. There wasn't one recognizable bit of body left.
      The rest were standing guard throughout the room, but there had also been two in the center, yet again right next to cannons. They took fire from above and below, bullets entering their heads and coming out their legs and vice versa.
      After these first six were shredded, they finally realized what was going on and raised their shields. Most of them still took some damage, but the guns at last clicked dry and only one more had fallen. Thirty-eight marines and two Spartans against eight Special Ops Hunter's, not the fairest of fights.
      A few moments after the room fell quite, the Hunter's were still looking around in confusion. Several lines of Marines stood up in various places and generously poured on MA5B fire. Rounds pinged off the thick armor until it wore away in some places and flesh became exposed to raw gunfire. The rifles depleted their ammo and they all fell down to reload.
      Now, however, the Hunter's knew where the enemy was. Anyone looking could see the faces behind their thickly armored heads putting on what looked like a grin of insidious pleasure. A bright green glow started to come from various areas of the room, and some piles of debris were melted under a hail of constant plasma fire. Two of these Hunter's were standing right in front of a pile of debris Marine's had been behind. They jumped on top of it, and started to charge up their own cannons.
      As this happened, a white streak crossed the room and a high caliber round bore into the back-plate of one Hunter. The other met a fiery death as a shaped charge hit his upper back, throwing shrapnel both from the rocket and from his own armor everywhere. The bullet, however, had not penetrated. He charged and fired eight shots before another round hit nearly the exact same spot, killing him. The four unlucky marines hiding behind that pile met a gruesome end.
      One Marine, no one could fire out who it was even after the battle, started to sing the song this unit had always sang since the start of the Covenant war, when they went into battle expecting to die. It was a rather sad song that always gave courage to face they're fates with pride, yet no one could figure out who started it up all the time. Most believed it was the Private, but he always denied the inquiry.
      "If this should be, our final stand, we sill stand together with pride..." as he started to sing, others joined in with him "... we will honor the past, and fight to the last, it will be a good way to die." Everyone had started now, even Jenkin's and the Sarge, who were in no danger "It matters not if the cause is lost, and we can-not stop the tide, we will fight to the end, and then fight again, it will be a good way to die." Their song was echoing through the repair bay now, the Hunter's looking around, confused, occasionally firing at random piles. "This moment will, live on through time, if anyone ever asks why. The Ma-Rines did not fall on their knees, you will know, they found a good way to die."
As the song finished, everyone stood tall, firing for all they were worth. Several more Hunter's fell dead, but now, as the line started to advance, the Hunter's could fire once again now that targets were in the open.
      Six Marines were melted to near nothingness, and one more Hunter fell. There were just four of them left now. Another sniper shot, another rocket flew, killing one hunter. At this point both Spartan's realized staying under cover any longer was pointless, and they stood to face their fate whatever it may be.
      Outlaw dropped his Rocket Launcher with a clank and surged forward, a streak that blew the hair of several soldiers into their eyes. He made a fairly daring move and ran straight towards one hunter, grabbing its shield. He slowly yet surely wrenched the arm that held the shield upward, bones snapping. The shield at last pointed straight upwards, and the beasts cannon couldn't do anything at this range. The shield came crashing down onto the Hunter's head, and its eyes widened in pain. All the weight of the beast began to wobble as it became dazed from the blow to the head, and Outlaw, now with both hands free, drew his shotgun and pumped several cartridges deep into the now revealed weak spot of the Hunter, and it fell dead.
      Switchblade made an equally stupid move, taking out on of his pistols and running towards another Hunter. He jumped, nearly hitting the ceiling, and sailed in the hair above the hunter, landing a drop kick to its head. The two heavy warriors fell together, one on top of the other, and as the Hunter fell to its back six pistol shots went deep into its belly, shredding the beasts heart and destroying one of its lungs.
      The two remaining Hunter's backed towards each other, firing non-stop. Most of them were misses, and the shots that did explode weren't killing anyone. Boomer showed his face, running and strafing against the fire. He continued this suicide charge, running between the Hunter's. It didn't look to them like he had done anything, but everyone else saw. His belt now sat on the ground, and one grenade was short a pin. Everyone jumped behind cover, and the Hunter's merely stood there, confused once again. Half a second later, four grenades exploded. Even their thick armor couldn't withstand the force, shrapnel ripped into the backs of both. The explosive force hurled them into a wall, where they made a rather large dent in the plating before sliding slowly down to the floor.
      For a moment, everyone just stood there, staring. They had done it. Fifteen Hunter's were dead, and only ten marines had fallen. At this moment they all felt invincible. For ten minutes, everyone just stood. Eventually, they all dropped their guns and let out a cheer of triumph. No one had said anything during the course of the fight, and now the room exploded with noise that wasn't gunfire.
      They gathered the bodies of the dead, they would be going with them for a proper burial once they hopefully got out.
      "Alright, time to attack the shuttle bay..." The Sarge reminded them all, killing a rather dramatic moment.
      "Sir, I think we should wait. If there's a computer port somewhere in this room they might have a direct link to the cameras and cannons in the shuttle bay. They shouldn't be able to jam that link, so we could see what we're up against and take some of it out, they sure as hell aren't transmitting those jamming signals for nothing." Jenkin's informed everyone.
      "Sounds good, everyone start looking." The Sarge said.
      Those who didn't look for a panel were resting, some of them using the dead Hunter's as pillows despite the cold, hard armor. It had been an exhausting fight, especially for those who had the wind knocked out of them by the near misses in the last moments of the fight. They would have to attack whatever was in the shuttle bay in a while, but for now, rest.

Next, Chapter 7:What Lies Within and A Narrow Escape.

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