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Order of the Seraphim
Date: 12 March 2002, 9:03 am

The year is 2558 and the Covenant have found and stationed themselves on Earth. After the Pillar of Autumn's crash landing on Halo, no contact was made between the UNSC and the PoA. The people of Earth, as well as the people of the few remaining Inner Colonial Planets, have lost hope for their race with the demise of the SPARTAN IIs and the recent turmoil between the diminishing UNSC army and the mercenaries who offer their services (sometimes falsely) to the cause of protecting Earth. The government of Earth has behaved strangely since the first landing of the Covenant upon Earth's soil, causing Earth's people to mistrust it.

- Genesis -

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Somewhere outside of the Milky Way Galaxy

ÝÝÝÝÝ"Chief, I've finally found earth," Cortana announced. Under the visor the Master Chief's eyes widened in surprise. It had been six long years since the destruction of Halo, after which he and Cortana drifted through space in their Longsword, unable to find any planets to land on that had not already been wiped out by the Covenant. "Set us on a course straight for it," ordered the Chief. "Gladly," Cortana responded.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Stuttgart, Germany
Time of Day: 10:53 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝSergeant Craven pulled out his MA5B Assault Rifle, already loaded for battle as a scratched, silver bird, the Pelican dropship, soared through the sky toward him and his squad, landing on the Pelican-Pad (similar to a Helo-pad.) On the side of the Pelican were painted the numbers "007," after the famous agent of the Hollywood past. The Pelican dropship had seen its years of usage, and so had Sgt. Craven as he set his black, torn up boot on the lip of the back, climbing into the Pelican and seating himself on the right side bench of the small room used to transport soldiers into battle. His squadmember, Pvt. Kuhlman, was the last to get on the Pelican, his cobalt eyes looking the inside of the Pelican over, spotting blotches of blood in one corner and then a puddle of it in the opposite corner slowly oozing toward the exit of the Pelican. Private Kuhlman's eyebrows slanted inward as he became distressed, hoping he'd make it home after today to see his newly wed wife, pregnant with their baby boy. The rest of the squad had already loaded onto the Pelican and were checking their weapons for the last time before they ran into battle just outside of Stuttgart. Private Kuhlman looked toward his sergeant asking, "How many Covies do you plan on killin' this time, Sarge?" Sergeant Craven replied, "Son, as many as I can get my dirty hands on." Private Kuhlman let a grin run across his face, knowing today would be a good day, as he was in good hands.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Just outside of Stuttgart, Germany
Time of Day: 11:01 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝPelican dropship 007 flew toward the battlefield at a mediocre speed. The pilot of the Pelican only saw towers of red and orange erupting from the ground and little grey dots running toward smaller red ones with specs of blue scattered over the field. He could see the blood on the ground, knowing that the Marines were charging the Grunts and Elites, each side losing heavy numbers as plasma bursts and bullets rang through the air finding random targets and laying anyone to waste. Stationary guns were poised to take out the troops of the Pelicans as they jumped off, but were soon detained by fragmentation grenades and Marine fire. The pilot thanked God for that. As many as ten Pelican dropships, including Pelican 007, landed on the battlefield, deploying over fifty marines, forty of them armed with fully loaded MA5B Assault Rifles and ten of them armed with S2 AM Sniper Rifles. The squad of P-007 hit the ground running, staying together as they ran for a piece of what use to be a banshee. Their boots tore up the dirt that laid on the ground, causing it to fly as they all ran, bucking and weaving from grenade explosions and even friendly fire. The squad finally made it to the banshee, with Pvt. Kuhlman peeking over the crest of it to survey the battlefield. "What do we have, Kuhlman?" yelled Sgt. Craven. Just as Pvt. Kuhlman was about to respond, a plasma grenade flew over his head and landed 10 yards from the squad's location. Even at 10 yards, the plasma grenade would send the squad flying over the banshee and right into Covenant fire where they'd take an unparalleled beating like no other. Private Smith instinctively got to his feet, dropping his MA5B Assault Rifle as he did so, and began running for the plasma grenade. His boots lifted off the ground, his arms reaching out in blind faith for hope of anything to hang on to, even though there would be nothing to hang on to. His body landed on the plasma grenade just as it went off, snuffing out the full explosion of it, even though his skin bubbled on his back, showing signs of intense scorching. Private Kuhlman's eyes narrowed and his mouth opened in fear, frightened that he was just three seconds away from blowing up, and saved on the fourth second by his fellow comrade. Sergeant Craven screamed, "No time for cryin' Marines, lets move!" Each squadmember stood up and ran from behind the banshee, holding down the triggers to their MA5B ARs, squelching out Grunts left and right as they did so.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Just outside of Stuttgart, Germany
Time of Day: 11:16 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝSeveral marines were lifted off the ground by a plasma grenade while at the same time five different Elites scattered across the battlefield dropped from the 14.5x114mm APFSDS rounds that went through their chests and heads thanks to various snipers outside the battlefield. The Covenant and Marines were equally losing numbers, the only difference was how they lost those soldiers. A banshee flew over a warthog, launching a proton torpedo right into the front of it, causing the warthog to fly backwards, flipping several times as its engine fused with the body of the warthog, its driver and passengers vaporized. Soon after, a rocket streaked across the field toward the banshee, making dead contact with it, resulting in the banshee to erupt in flames and fall to the ground, the Elite inside of it having already flew out of it due to the impact of the rocket. Marines and Elites with Grunts charged each other relentlessly, absolute chaos. There was no sanctuary.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Outside Earth's atmosphere
Time of Day: 11:19 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝ"I've lost control of the engines," yelled Cortana. "Not good. But we can still make it, we'll just have to brace for impact," said the Chief. "Where are we going to crash? Can you find out, Cortana?" "Let me check. Alright, we'll probably land somewhere in southern Germany," she answered. "What do you mean by 'probably' and 'southern Germany?" asked Master Chief. "We'll soon findout," Cortana answered.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: Just outside of Stuttgart, Germany
Time of Day: 11:23 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝThe battle continued as Private Kuhlman ran behind an Elite, hoping to shoot it from behind as to kill it quickly. The Elite, aware of his surroundings, turned around to face Pvt. Kuhlman. Private Kuhlman shrank in his skin, never seeing an Elite before, especially up close. It damn near killed him just to look at the Elite. The Elite, covered in blue armor, raised its arm high, ready to strike down Pvt. Kuhlman in a single blow. A white streak blazed across Pvt. Kuhlman's shoulder as he watched the Elite fall over, landing on its back with a loud thud. Private Kuhlman turned around slowly, afraid to move at all, petrified almost, to see toward the direction from which the round had came. He waved slowly toward the shrubs he saw, thinking the sniper must be using those same shrubs for cover. Private Kuhlman noticed he had stopped breathing from fear, and then his body slacked letting out some of the tension, as he was thankful to be alive. A screeching sound, almost like that of a banshee, but much louder was heard. At first no one paid attention to the sound, neither Marines nor Covenant. Then it became louder. Sergeant Craven seemed to be the only person looking at the sky as the battle raged on. A fireball that seemed to be spinning out of control was about to land directly in the middle of the battlefield. About twenty Grunts charged at a small squad of Marines, ready to overpower the small group of humans with their numbers. A loud thunder erupted from nowhere, drowning out the plasma bursts and the gunfire. Marines and Covenant alike flew into the sky, as well as many being squished under the UFO that landed. After the thunder, all was quiet like the eye of the storm. Sergeant Craven didn't know if he was alive or dead. He soon noticed that not a single soldier was moving, Covenant nor Marines. They all stood still, gazing toward the small crater made in the center of the battlefield. The blue and red chrome color of the Covenant armor mixed with the dull grey of the Marines looked like one massive abstract painting. A rather loud hissing sound was heard. One of the doors of the UFO opened. The object couldn't be identified because it was burned halfway open, but Sergeant Craven was pretty sure it was a Longsword. The keyword was "was." A humanoid figure in scratched up, dull green armor hung to the side of the door, before taking a few faltering steps and then passing out as it tried to climb up the side of the crater. It's visor reflected the sun as it laid on its back, its right arm raising and its hand grasping for something, anything. The Covenant slowly backed away from the battlefield, walking as slowly as possible. Grunts scattered all over the battlefield started yelling "It's him! It's him! Get off the field!" Elites were looking to their left and right not knowing what to do. They had obviously seen this figure from visual images sent by senior soldiers or heard of him from transmissions. Marines' mouths gaped wide open yelling "It's the Spartan! I thought he died!" In the midst of it all, Sergeant Craven took the opportunity to turn toward an Elite and whack it with the butt of his MA5B Assault Rifle with all his might, then pull back and start firing at it. At the sound of the Assault Rifle fire, the Elites turned tail and ran toward their base, with the Grunts soon following after. They didn't care where it came from, all they knew was that the most hated figure of all Covenant history was in their wake, and they didn't know what was going to happen. The Marines were astounded that the Covenant had retreated. They knew that soon, though, they would return, most likely with more numbers. It wasn't like the Covenant to leave and never show up again. Soon medical evacuation showed up and took the armored body away. Obviously someone had called for evac. Pelican ships landed on the battlefield as close to troops as possible. The troops climbed in the Pelicans and were lifted off.

Date: 5/10/2558
Location: En route to Stuttgart, Germany
Time of Day: 11:28 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝSergeant Craven checked and re-checked that what remained of his squad was on the Pelican. He looked to Private Kuhlman and asked with a grin, "Wasn't that grand for your first day? You just witnessed the return of our last hope. Tell your friends all about it." And with that the Pelican soared back to Stuttgart, Germany.

Order of the Seraphim Chapter 2
Date: 14 March 2002 9:45 pm

The serpent spreads his poison, but I shall bear justice to all.

- Blow of a Trumpet -

Date: 5/13/2558
Location: Stockholm, Sweden
Time of Day: 4:58 A.M.

     A tingling sensation rushed through John's body as his eyes opened, blurs present that surrounded his entire body, but soon distinguishable shapes formed from those blurs. He saw the medical gown he was wearing, a bed, and a few walls. He felt a sore in his wrist, spotting a tube and needle placed in it. The skin along his forearm was discolored from the IV inserted in his wrist. The room was dimly lit yet there were no light fixtures. A ray of sunlight filtered through a window on the left wall. He looked toward the window through which the light came, spotting a few oak trees placed along a hill. John didn't know what the time of day was, so he looked for the one indicator that would tell him whether or not it was the morning or afternoon. To his right was a digital clock displaying the numbers "4:58" and then in smaller sized letters "a.m." John thought he must have lost his mind because he saw light at such an early time. The sun wasn't supposed to be out for another hour and a half.
     The door on the right side of the room swung open and a pair of smooth, creme colored legs strolled through. John's eyes scanned up the tempting legs to see a white plaid skirt, and further up a delicate face accentuated by a frame of ash tendrils. John only heard of the nurses that fit that common stereotype of "Hell-ooooooo Nurse," he never actually saw one. Until now, that is. His face blushed with a red hue as the woman came over and primped his bed covers while he laid under them, still dressed in his patient's gown. A soft voice broke the silence saying, "Hi. How are you this morning?" John didn't know how he felt or how he should feel. He responded simply, "I'm doing fine." "That's good. You keep up the rest and you'll be out of here in no time," the nurse told John cheerfully. John asked her quizzically, "Ma'am, why is the sun out so early?" His answer to the question was, "Because in Sweden the sun's out for whole days and nights a good part of the year, and you're in Sweden." "Oh," whispered through John's lip as he sat in bewilderment. "Why am I in Sweden? I thought I cra-- Oh. Transported. Alright, well thank you ma'am." "No problem," the nurse said softly as she turned around and headed for the door. John watched her walk away and enjoyed it, then wondered if she'd ever be back after she disappeared through the door.

Date: 5/13/2558
Location: Washington D.C.
Time of Day: 8:01 A.M.

     That was him that landed? Holy shit. Is what rushed through the Secretary of Defense's mind as he watched the footage of the burning Longsword crash during the battle of Stuttgart, Germany and then a ramp lower to reveal John-117, the supposed final and dead Spartan II of the past. The United States' Secretary of Defense had good ties to the UNSC and planned on having a good talk with his friends within it.

Date: 5/13/2558
Location: CLASSIFIED
Time of Day: 10:03 A.M.

     General Gainsborough, alongside the United States' Secretary of Defense, entered the UNSC Council Chamber, still finding it funny that the UNSC had gone underground; literally. The Space Command of Earth and its people was currently residing in a subterranean base. The irony of life. "Thank you for meeting with us, General Gainsborough and U.S. Secretary of Defense Gavin Russel. We're here today because you needed to discuss something with us, am I correct Mr. Russel?" asked the Head of Council. "Yes, sir. I'd like to know if it would be possible to put John-117 back into action as soon as can be for the better of Earth? I'd like for the U.S. to fund his training and equipment and any other means necessary to get him back up and running. I'm asking you because he is under your jurisdiction and a product of the UNSC." "We know that sir, and thanks for asking us. We have no problem with that. But during his training we'll need him for questioning of his whereabouts for the last six years and what occurred on the Pillar of Autumn. Understood?" asked the Head of Council. "Yes, sir. Thank you." Just as Gavin Russel was about to walk out of the Council Chambers, the Head of Council asked him, "Would you be willing to allow for a few other Spartans to train with John-117 if other nations, including the UNSC funded for it?" The U.S. Secretary of Defense turned around, puzzled at what he just heard? Did he hear correctly? Other Spartans? There were other ones? "Yes, sir." came Gavin's reply.

Date: 5/21/2558
Location: Military Base of Lincoln, Nebraska
Time of Day: 3:10 P.M.

     Hundreds of Grunts in green plated armor, covered with breathing apparatuses stood side by side with their fellow human soldiers. A military drill was about to commence. John-117 gawked out the window, his jaw practically hitting the floor. He was amazed that the Grunts were not shooting at the human Marines or letting out their howls of viciousness through the sun baked air. "What you see here is a product of years of psychological endearment and scientific study," Lieutenant Evans told John. Over the course of many other worldly battles and even some Earthen battles, we managed to capture a few Grunts or injured ones that we could pry information out of. Eventually someone from the UNSC, leave it up to them, had the bright idea of turning the enemy against itself. Through genetics and reproduction we've come up with what you see before you." John still couldn't believe it. His own enemy, so many of the alien race he had killed throughout his life, was now apart of his own people's military. It was quite astonishing while at the same time a small slap in the face. "One question. Don't the Grunts need a tank to breathe whatever their natural environment is made of?" Lieutenant Evans responded, "You mean the methane? Yes, the Grunts do. From what I've been told, reconstructing the breathing apparatuses the Grunts use was much easier than figuring out the Covenant's shield technology, so I'm guessing it was no big deal. The reason the Grunts wear the green armor is so that we can tell which Grunts to fire at and which not too," he ended with a chuckle. "So when are the Grunts going to be deployed in battle? Anytime soon or far off?" asked John. "Whenever needed... probably soon," answered Lieutenant Evans. "Lets move on shall we," Lieutenant Evans asked John rhetorically.

- Snuff Out -

Date: 5/22/2558
Location: Paris, France
Time of Day: 2:12 P.M.

     A small Covenant outpost was located at the site of what use to be a populated city known as Paris. The outpost was nothing great, no large amount of barracks, no building to store Wraith tanks in, no stationary guns. The only significance of this particular outpost was that it was suspected to be one of the few outposts relaying vital information between the Covenant on Earth and the Covenant flying around in space. The base was being watched by two snipers, each perched on opposite sides of the valley that the Covenant base sat in. There was a minuscule amount of movement in a set of shrubs, as a few leaves on a branch shook. That small amount of motion was caused by one of the two snipers known as Gwydion. He was using the shrubs for cover so as not to be spotted by any Grunts or Jackals that could be patrolling the area. Gwydion was spread over a roll-out bed, made of closely woven fibers as to offer maximum comfort over the pebbles and mounds of dirt he laid on. Resting on a cotton blanket to his right was one of the newly released MA6C Assault Rifles. The MA6C had a longer barrel on it, which offered more accuracy during shooting. It could also let off a quarter more of rounds in a minute than the MA5B AR. Residing next to the assault rifle was Gwydion's M6D Pistol, which had received no changes since its release by the military. Those weapons were there for his use incase something went wrong with his objective and he needed to defend himself at close range.
     His rifle was mounted on a trip-pod stand that had a rotating disc for which to spin the rifle in any direction. Gwydion viewed the Covenant base through his rifle scope, which was zoomed in at 10x magnification. He swiveled the rifle from left to right on its tripod, going over the base every two minutes to make sure no threatening situations presented themselves, such as an Elite patrolling around the corner of the Covenant Communications Tower or something else of equal or greater proportions that could jeopardize the mission at hand. A communications channel opened between Gwydion and the other Sniper, "Rifle-Magnesia in, no altered sightings to report, Rifle-Magnesia out." Gwydion replied over the communications channel, "Rifle-Ulixes copies, no altered sightings here, Rifle-Ulixes out." Gwydion was relieved nothing happened yet and that soon the second phase of the operation would be executed, but still he remained tense, fervorously keeping watch over the base with his partner, Rifle-Magnesia.
     Another comm-channel opened up between Gwydion and one of his fellow soldiers. "Striker-One, reporting in, prepared for second phase of SNUFF OUT, over." "Rifle-Ulixes copies, no sighting at this time, I suggest you go through with the second phase, over." "Striker-One copies, cover our ass if things get hot and thank you, Rifle-Ulixes, over and out." The comm-channel between Striker-One and Rifle-Ulixes closed and just as soon Gwydion opened one between himself and Rifle-Magnesia. "Rifle-Ulixes in, the second phase of SNUFF OUT will commence, lets cover our team, Rifle-Ulixes out." "I hear you, Rifle-Magnesia over and out." The reason Team Striker relied on the snipers for survailing enemies is that if the soldiers used their motion tracking devices they would be detected. The signals sent from the motion tracking devices would relay between any object and Team Striker, but those same signals could be picked up by a small Covenant satellite in the area that would then warn the Covenant troops stationed at the outpost of their intruders' presence. It was a risk that Team Striker did not want to take.
     On the southern side of the valley bits of grass moved in unusual patterns along the ground. One of those patches of grass sprang to its feet on the ground, waved its arm over its head and pointed to the largest of the three central buildings. Small shimmers of light reflected off of the figure's arm and legs, as well as the helm it wore. Two more patches of grass came alive as they rose quickly, their feet stampeding on the ground as all three of the camouflaged soldiers dashed in the direction of the building suspected to be the base's own little Headquarters. Surrounding the buildings in the center of the outpost were five barracks, any of which housed either Grunts, Jackals, and Elites. Gwydion watched Team Striker move to the barracks closest to them, one of the soldiers crouching while the other two stood, all three of them using the wall as cover. "Striker-One in, is anything around the corner Rifle-Ulixes?" "Negative, Striker-One. Continue moving," replied Gwydion. The Striker team remained still for a moment longer, no doubt asking Rifle-Magnesia if anything was on the other side of the barracks to their rear. Team Striker hustled to the past three barracks, ready to run past the fourth just as Gwydion noticed a Grunt stepping out the barracks' door.
     "Striker-One, halt! Grunt to your right, coming out of the barracks. I suggest you avoid him or if need be take him out quietly." The Grunt walked along the broadside of the barracks, till finally reaching the end, where Team Striker had just been. The only thing separating the Grunt from the Striker team was forty feet of barracks and two walls. All three soldiers of Team Striker heard the relentless sniffing of a Grunt that they had heard so many times before. The sniffing sound grew louder. A five foot creature that looked like a large dog waltzed around the corner of the barracks, right into the butt of Striker-Two's MA6C Assault Rifle. The Grunt flew back three feet before slamming into the ground. Striker-Two quickly moved past the edge of the corner into sight of anything that could be around, grabbing the Grunt by its left leg and pulling him behind the wall that Team Striker was using to hide. "Slick, Team Striker, very slick," came from Gwydion's mouth as a grin formed under his helmet. Getting those little bastards was often a pleasurable treat for all the ruches they often stirred up in battle. "No other enemies in sight, you're free to move, Team Striker." The lead figure, obviously Striker-One, raised his arm to his shoulder and made an open palm, spreading five fingers and pointing past the barracks with two. Team Striker again dashed past the barracks toward the large building that lay in the center of the base. All three soldiers stopped by a corner of the building directly next to their destination.
     An open comm-channel was established for all of the five soldiers to listen in on. "Anything in the area guys?" "No just dir - wait, two Elites exited the Cov-HQ, one major (red), the other a commander (yellow), and they're walking directly toward you... guessing about 20 yards from your current position. Get ready." Team Striker didn't respond over the comm-channel so that they wouldn't be heard and detected. A soft crunch against the dirt that the base laid on was heard by all of Team Striker as Elite footsteps made their place in the dried soil. Striker-Three looked down the other end of the 150 yard long cubed building, knowing that to get to the other side of it would take too long and to have their snipers pick the Elites off would warn the entire base of their presence. Striker-Three tapped -One and -Two on the shoulders to get their attention, then ran out from behind the cover of the wall right past the two Elites, getting their attention as well. Gwydion had been watching the whole time through his scope, hoping Team Striker wouldn't get into a hazy-fray of plasma and bullets. As he saw Striker-Three run out from behind the building, he noticed the look of alarm in both of the Elites' faces as their eyes widened and they suddenly charged Striker-Three. He continued to watch as Striker-One and -Two ran behind the two Elites just as they were lifting their arms toward Striker-Three and were about to fire off a few plasma bursts into his shield. Suddenly the two Elites dropped toward the ground, but before the bodies managed to touch the dirt, they were each scooped up by the arms of Striker-One and -Two.
     Team Striker continued to head for their designated locale, even with Striker-One and -Two still lugging the corpses of the Elites and -Three taking the lead. Team Striker made it to the entrance of the Covenant headquarters. Striker-One and -Two dropped the bodies they had been carrying and took position on either side of the rather large door that acted as an entrance. The motion sensors picked up movement from the two members of the Striker team and automatically opened, obviously not designed to distinguish between Covenant or humans. Striker-Two took note of that thinking that the Covenant must be so arrogant as to think that humans would never make it to this point of their little outpost. Over the comm-channel Striker-One whispered, "Phase Three of SNUFF OUT commencing as we speak."
     Striker-One and -Two rushed through the door, each taking a position on either side of the door with their rifles raised and their gloved fingers over the triggers, ready to mow down any unsuspecting Covenant in their immediate vicinity. "No sight of the enemy, Rifles. Cover our backs as we locate and extract the information we need, Striker-One out." Striker-Three, still outside of the doorway, grabbed both of the fallen Elites by the foot that -One and -Two had dropped and pulled them into the building through the door, leaving them to the left of the doorway so that the bodies wouldn't be intercepted by the motion sensors. A long corridor awaited Team Striker as they gazed around their surroundings, only seeing a few walls and nothing else. They advanced toward the corridor, with Striker-One taking lead, running down it swiftly, the bottom of their boots tapping against the metallic floor as they did so. No enemy forces had made contact with them as they blitzed down the corridor. Smaller hallways branched off from the one they traveled down, but they kept a straight path, finally arriving to a massive room that held a large, semi-circular holopanel. Striker-Two asked Striker-One over the comm-channel, "How'd you know to come down here?" "I didn't," answered Striker-One. Displayed along the holopanel were the colors of pink and purple and buttons of green and red. Striker-Three thought of Easter and Christmas combined as he looked at the panel. Striker-One moved to the middle section of the half-ringed holopanel, extracting a small, flat, teal colored square from his protected neck and placed it inside what looked to be a slot in the holopanel. A holographic projection of Grimnir, a "smart" AI, rose from the holopanel. "Ah, good job, Wolfgang," said the figure covered in a sleek, black leather trench coat armed with a German Bastard sword in his fair skinned hand, black Jersery-material shirt covering his chest, black slacks covering his legs, black leather belt with a golden buckle around the waist and black commando boots covering his feet. Long, whispy hair dark as night fell onto his shoulders, while the piercing pale-stone cut blue eyes gazed toward Striker-One, whose armored body was still covered in the grassy camouflage. Two diversely different styles of attire were in the room, and all of Team Striker thought Grimnir had the most interesting of the two.
     "Thank you, Grimnir, just make sure you do your job," Wolfgang told him in a stern voice. "Give me a few more minutes..." ordered Grimnir. Team Striker stayed alert as Grimnir searched for and obtained the Covenant information. "Got what I need. Lets ski-dattle," Grimnir said in enthusiasm. The holographic image of Grimnir faded and died. Wolfgang reached for the slot where the flat square popped out and placed it back into his neck through his MJOLNIR II armor. "Striker-One here, we're ready to roll, Rifles." Gwydion reported over the open comm-channel, "There's a problem outside, Striker-One. It appears a few patrolling Jackals made their rounds and came across that Grunt you guys left behind earlier. All those barracks are empty now 'cause all the Covenant forces are outside and looking for whoever took care of that Grunt."

- My Kingdom For A Horse -

     "There's ten squads of Grunts of the lowest rank, three squads of Jackals consisting of Minors and Majors, and only one squad of Elites, mainly made up of Majors. I've already called in a Pelican Dropship, so don't worry about that part. Just get out of there alive. Me and Rifle-Magnesia will supply cover fire," said Gwydion to Wolfgang reassuringly. Wolfgang asked over the open comm-channel, "Can you start taking the Elites out now and afterward the Jackals?" "That's a roger, Striker-One. Rifles ready to blow some Covenant to hell and back. Over and out."
     Team Striker came back down the hallway from which they came, arriving to the first room, but this time it was filled with Grunts. Wolfgang let go of his MA6C Assault Rifle with his left hand, holding it steady in his right hand while reaching for a fragmentation grenade on his belt clip. He grasped the frag-grenade firmly in his hand, knocking the pin off of it with his thumb and then swinging his arm into the air, his hand releasing the grenade resulting in it to sail through the air at his opponents. The fragmentation grenade landed in the middle of all the Grunts. Before it could go off, however, Wolfgang already had his gloved finger on the trigger, releasing round after round into the two squads of Grunts, watching after several seconds a majority of them fall to the ground while at the same time many of them flew upward, almost touching the Covenant's towering ceiling. The other Grunts that Wolfgang had not disposed of himself were already mopped up by Striker-Two and -Three. Team Striker stepped over the aliens' dead bodies as they made their way to the door, exiting cautiously.
     Gwydion watched the Elite Major drop through his scope, landing helplessly next to a pack of Grunts, all of which yelled in terror and waddled hurriedly in different directions, scattering like roaches. He reverted to his rifle's 2x magnification to get a broader visual of the plain on which the base was set. Gwydion thought the Grunts were the most pathetic form of any soldier to have existed in the known universe, and he wasn't alone in that theory either. Gwydion scanned the field of Covenant for another Elite to take out, quickly finding one. He zoomed in on it at 10x magnification, taking careful aim for the head. If he made contact with the head, he wouldn't have to worry about spending another round on it. Gwydion hated to waste rounds, especially on shots he could take pride in. Just as Gwydion fired his S2 AM Sniper Rifle, letting a round loose on his target, the Elite jumped sideways and opened fire on something that wasn't in Gwydion's scope's peripheral view. The round landed in the Elite's lower leg, angering Gwydion that he had missed. Just as he was about to fire at that same Elite again, a white streak tore through the air right where the Elite stood resulting in the Elite's body to go limp and fall to the ground. "Had you covered there, Rifle-Ulixes. Rifle-Magnesia out."
     Team Striker had made it past the building next to the Cov-HQ when they saw an Elite Major drop to the ground in front of them, a plasma burst flying right past them. "Whew, that was close," shouted Wolfgang to his teammates over the crack of a rifle firing. Team Striker continued to run toward the barracks closest to them, each member of the team removing a fragmentation grenade from their belt, snapping off the pins, and hurling them over the barracks in a blind hope that the grenades would land in the crowds of Grunts and Jackals. Two of the three grenades each landed in the center of a pack of Grunts and Jackals, while the third grenade only landed to the far side of a squad of Jackals. Wolfgang counted to two and then ran outward from behind the barracks' wall and around the side with his team into the horde of Grunts and Jackals just in time to see five Grunts lift off in multiple directions, two of which flew directly at the Striker team. Wolfgang side-stepped to his left, dodging the airborne Grunt as it yelled its last scream of pain, while bringing his MA6C Assault Rifle up to his shoulder, squeezing off a few rounds into the crowd of Grunts that ran around eachother in blind confusion as to what just happened.. Striker-Two and -Three crouched on their knee, a Grunt's body sailing over their heads as they let bullets tear through the same bewildered Grunts. A trio of Jackals far to the front of Striker team flew sky-high as a cloud of dust and fire rose from the ground. A pile of Grunts' dead bodies began to form in front of Team Striker. It was a sickening sight to behold as the enemy just landed on one another in death.
     After a few seconds the Grunts began to re-group as an Elite Commander ran onto the scene of the battle. There was no isolated place to take cover in against such a large amount of Grunts on the now blood-soiled battlefield. Everywhere Wolfgang looked, Grunts were present. He never thought of this battle as challenging, because truly it wasn't. It was a slaughterhouse for the Covenant. But the fact remained, there was no cover because the enemy was everywhere. Wolfgang and his teammates heard the distinct, low barks of an Elite giving orders to his troops. Between two barracks stood Team Striker and about forty to fifty of the enemy Covenant. Wolfgang yelled to Striker-Two, "I need you to get against that wall over there on the right," as he pointed with his fingers to the barracks' wall. Wolfgang turned to Striker-Three on his left and shouted, "And I need you against that wall," pointing to the opposite barracks. Striker-Two and -Three both lifted off their feet and made a mad dash for their newly assigned positions, both of them crouching with their assault rifles in their hands, fully loaded, watching the Covenant group into their battle formation. "Rifles, I need you to start picking off any stray Elites, and definitely the Elite Commander in front of us," Wolfgang sputtered over the open comm-channel as the first few rounds of plasma fire began coming his way. Only half of those Covenant shots were any good, and he easily avoided those with his quick footwork. "Alright, team! Grenades no--" a distant roar that was growing everpresently louder cut through the air between the Covenant and Team Striker as faint whistles were heard, growing closer, and closer till finally the ground the Covenant troops were standing on was turned over. The squealing of Grunts in a frayed panic and the low, gurgling yell of an angered Elite were heard immediately after and were just as soon extinguished by another two explosions lifting the Covenant into the air while pushing other enemy troops farther into the ground.
     The terrified Covenant soldiers held down their triggers as they met death, releasing plasma bursts everywhere. One of the stray shots hit Striker-Two in his chest, erupting in a flame of jade, but barely scratched through his shield. Corpses flew over fresh ones as rubble and dirt landed on the fallen warriors of the Covenant. The bodies of Jackals were strewn about over an Elite, and the blood of all the Covenant were splattered everywhere, some of it on Team Striker's camo and armor. The distant roar was now directly behind Wolfgang and his team. Team Striker looked over their shoulders to see the Pelican dropship that just saved them from wasting all their munitions. Over a new communications channel came the words, "Ready to move out when you are." Wolfgang scanned the hills surrounding the valley for Gwydion and Jehkoh as well as any left over Covenant units. A minute later the two snipers arrived at the Pelican dropship, hopping in with their large cotton blankets wrapped up, each blanket carrying a sniper rifle and other armaments of their user's choice. Wolfgang held his MA6C Assault Rifle up to his shoulder, looking to his left and right continuously as Striker-Two and -Three boarded the Pelican. With no sign of the enemy left and everyone on board, Wolfgang climbed into the Pelican, ready for liftoff.

Order of the Seraphim Chapter 3
Date: 5 April 2002 12:25 am

- Upgrade 101 -

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: Lincoln, Nebraska
Time of Day: 11:27 P.M.

     John strode down the corridor walking with a stiff gate, his grey fatigues covering his entire body. Two marines standing at the opposing end of the hallway that John was heading to stood up-right, their chins up with their rifles slung over their shoulders. John arrived at the end of the hallway, standing in front of the soldiers who were blocking his way to the door. "We need to see clearance, sir." John quirked a brow at the Marine to his right, asking himself why they hadn't been informed of his arrival. John pointed to his left shoulder with his right index finger, showing the soldier the patch of the eagle on his arm. The soldier stood in shock, quivering, "Sorry, sir. Right this way, sir," and passed an access card through the slot to the right of the sealed door, opening it instantly. The other marine's eyes widened upon seeing the badge of a Spartan. An echoing hiss resonated through the hallway while John wore a smug look of satisfaction on his face. Even after his absence he was still revered by a few. "Thank you, soldier," he told the man who opened the door for him. John passed through the frame of the door with a bit of anxiety in his chest, wondering why he had been called down to the lab as the door behind him hissed shut. One of the two marines standing guard outside the door after it closed told the other, "Did you see that shit, man?" "Yeah, but I can't believe it. I only heard he came back, but -- shit, no way man, no way." They both shook their heads toward the ground letting out a heavy sigh as they did so.
     "Glad you could make it, sir," came from a man's voice that was close by. John's eyes scanned the area around him, spotting a short, stocky man wearing a red jumpsuit with a tussle of brown hair on his head. "Right this way, sir," said the man as he made his way over to a low platform against the wall to John's right. To the sides of the platform stood several marines, two on each side. Resting on the black surfaced platform was a metallic cylinder. John pondered what that cylinder was for or what it could be hiding. On the far side of the large room another sliding door hissed open, this one revealing a small group of scientists wearing the universal labcoat. They were approaching him slowly, as in a cautious manner. John could tell by the timid expressions on their face. One of the scientists broke the ice. "John, pleasure to meet you," he said while offering his hand to John, who in response shook it. "As well as a pleasure to meet you, Professor --" John glanced at the badge on the man's labcoat, "--Gary." Professor Gary smiled at the Spartan, then reached for a small mic hooked onto his collar saying, "Lift the tube, Jake." "Yes, sir." The cylinder, as John watched, was lifted off the platform by a few cables attached to the top of it. As it slowly lifted toward the ceiling of the large laboratory, John began to make out the familiar figure of a MJOLNIR suit. When the tube was fully removed, the MJOLNIR suit stood in all of its intimidating glory. Light reflected off the breast plate and every limb had a sheen to it. Not a single scratch was engraved across the surface of the sage colored body. "This is the MJOLNIR III, John," Professor Gary told him. "I'll let my team explain the rest to you."
     John wanted to hear more about the suit, especially since there were a few obvious changes to it. A lithe man even taller than John stepped onto the platform, placing himself next to the MJOLNIR III. The scientist spoke, "The reason this is a MJOLNIR III is because we already made the MJOLNIR II. But the MJOLNIR II was released while you were gone, so there's no point to telling you about that second version anyway." One of the other three scientists whispered under his breath, "You don't say, Sherlock." Only John heard him, though thanks to his keen sense of sound. The Spartan continued to listen intently as the scientist went on. "The difference between the MJOLNIR III and the MJOLNIR suit you wore is small, but has an overall greater effect. For one, the M-3's shield is fifty percent stronger. No great advancement, but one none the less. You'll be able to take a few more shots in hotter areas, but don't risk it. Another is that we've increased the suit's speed by one-sixth of your old suit, something that was not done to the MJOLNIR II. The traction problem is still present, however." The man soon stepped down from the platform only to be replaced by a third scientist.
     John gave the new speaker his full attention as the scientist began. "If you look on the back of the suit here, you'll notice no difference between it and the back of your suit. But inside this storage area is a stronger, more powerful battery. But don't worry, the battery is not much heavier than the one your suit housed. The reason for this more powerful battery is simple; to supply the power needed to run your suit's augmentations." A gleam shined in the scientist's eyes as he spoke the next few sentences. "Do you recall the sword that some of the Elites use?" "Yes, what about 'em," John asked. "Well, just like the Jackal's shield technology, we've been able to use the plasma sword for ourselves, mainly for you." John's eyebrows slanted, thinking the scientist was pulling his leg. He had seen what a plasma sword could do, but now he was going to wield the same power? In the six years he was gone his people had discovered so many technological advancements to aid them in the war with the Covenant. Six years was such a small amount of time. Just like the allied Grunts from three days ago this new breakthrough, the plasma sword, was another astonishment.
     "So how does the blade work, since it is made out of plasma and still retains form," John asked the scientist standing on the platform who in return responded, "I really can't tell you how, that's classified." John was disappointed at that statement, but shook off the feeling easily. "Originally," the man spoke, "we were going to use the battery pack to power the sword that was then planned at the time to be an integral part of your suit, but we came across a problem. How would it be possible to have something projecting from your suit from within the shield without breaking the shield itself? Simple answer; it wouldn't. So we basically copied the original physical design so that it will just be hand-held, like a regular sword, and no longer apart of your arm." John let the words run through his head, understanding what the scientist said completely. "To turn the blade on, simply grip the handle tightly. It has a sensory response system. The hilt will be clipped onto the left side of your torso, so when you wanna use it just reach for it and squeeze," ended the scientist who soon stepped off the platform.
     Another scientist from the group close to John spoke up saying, "Your motion tracker can scan over a greater range of land and you can even get a map of your current location to be displayed on your HUD. Basically you have alot of new interface to use for planning in battle. And of course, Cortana will be with you to help you with all of that." John liked what he heard about his new armor. "We're going to have to run a test on you with your new armor to prepare you for an upcoming battle, so lets get to it."

- Spearhead the Honorable -

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: CLASSIFIED
Time of Day: 11:56 P.M.

     "So why are we doing this again? I mean, do we really have to? It's not like he's a threat," a man spoke from one of the many rows of seats. The Head of Council answered in hesitation, "He is a potential threat. He's young, he has a good track record, and the way our war is going, he might take it upon himself to fight his own way. He could get cocky. We don't need that! We need men who can take orders, and if I'm correct, he's already gone out on a limb to help another troop out, risking the lives of his soldiers and himself." The Head of Council's voice began to rise, "He did that himself! If he won't obey orders he might as well fight for the Covenant." The Chamber sat in silence, only interrupted by a sigh. "Alright. I suppose you're right," said the man from the seats who had spoken before. No one else had dared to argue, knowing to do so would be in vain. The one man that had tried just found that out as well. The Head of Council ordered, "Tell Colonel Krous what needs to be done."

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: Marine Base of Machakos, Kenya
Time of Day: 1:16 P.M.

     "Hustle, Marines! I see any of you slackin' and I'll make sure there's nothing left of you to slack off!" Colonel Krous and Lieutenant Colonel McGrath were barking orders at their troops making sure they got inside the twenty different Pelican Dropships. Lieutenant Colonel McGrath was a rarity in his time and would have been in any other era of military history. Only twenty-six and McGrath had risen through the ranks to land a spot as a Lieutenant Colonel. Such a feat was an accomplishment like no other. Lieutenant Colonel McGrath had unorthodox yet brilliant tactics locked away in his mind, and if his strategies failed he was quick to improvise. Lieutenant Colonel McGrath had lost only one battle, but instead of his loss becoming a massacre when he clearly saw the odds stacked against him, he had ordered a retreat that had saved his soldiers' lives. McGrath was trusted by his men just as he trusted them.
     The Pelicans were lined up in four separate rows, five Pelicans per row. Men holding their newly released MA6C Assault Rifles in their hands were swarming the Pelicans, filing in as quickly as they were told to do so. The beating of footsteps resonated throughout the docking bay as each Marine pounded his boots on the concrete floor. Both the Colonel and the Lieutenant-Colonel were pleased with the quick action performed by their troops. When all the Marines had piled into the Pelican Dropships, Lt-Cl. McGrath yelled to Colonel Krous, "Give 'em hell, sir!" Colonel Krous nodded to his subordinate sternly, showing that he damn sure would. What didn't show however was the uneasy feeling in the pit of Krous's stomach. The Lieutenant glanced at Lt-Cl. McGrath with sympathy in his eyes, feeling sorry for the man. Both Krous and McGrath pulled themselves into separate Pelicans, each with his own troops, all of which were ready to battle. The Pelicans' engines began to stir to life when a faint hum was heard that soon turned into a deafening roar. Row after row of Pelicans took off from the docking bay, lifting themselves toward the beating sun.

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: En Route to Machakos, Kenya
Time of Day: 1:27 P.M.

     Thousands of feet above the surface of the earth slept one of the planet's last hopes, John. He had requested a window seat so that he could gaze upon what he had been missing for the last six years, only to fall asleep in a blissful dream. A sudden shaking rocked him from his dreamworld causing his eyes to flutter open. John saw a man's hand on his shoulder, roughly shaking it in an attempt to wake him up. "We're almost there, John. When we get there you're just gonna get off, fix yourself up, and hop on a dropship to the battlesite," the man told him. John nodded in silence, glad he was awakened so that he could allow his body to wake up also. John hopped to his feet from his reclined chair, stretching his arms and legs till they felt warm, then sat himself back down in his seat. John's eyes danced over the savannas of Kenya, wondering what laid in store for him.

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: Savannas of Kenya east of Machakos
Time of Day: 2:27 P.M.

     The high grass could be seen for miles around the Marines' current location. Nothing but brown and green laid between them and the sky. There was dead air all around them. Only a mild warmth was present around the Marines for now, but they all knew that later it would be a scorching heat. Pelicans were scattered across the savannas, glistening under the golden sun. A humanoid figure in sage colored armor blurred across the grasslands, heading straight for the Landing Zone. The Spartan arrived in front of Colonel Krous, saluting instantly. "The Lotus mines have been planted, Colonel," said the Spartan. "Good job, Diego," the Colonel replied casually. Colonel Krous always felt that him and the Spartans could cut their ranks out of the picture and just be friendly. Maybe it helped him fee elite calling a Spartan by name as if he'd known that particular soldier all his life. Diego never really cared too much about being called by his true name, he only cared about getting the job done. "Right now we're just awaiting the arrival of the Master Chief," the Colonel told Diego abruptly. Not long after Colonel Krous's statement had a Pelican been spotted in the sky. All the Marines turned their heads toward the silver bird, wanting to see the famed Spartan. The Pelican flew toward the Landing Zone, hovering over the Marines that were scattered about the field. The Dropship descended rapidly, stalling just above the ground. Inside the transport compartment sat a lone man, covered in gleaming green armor with a MA6C Assault Rifle in his hands. One of the men yelled "Speak of the devil himself!"
     The Master Chief rose to his feet, walking off the lip of the Pelican transport compartment, his boots making a depression on the grass. The Pelican Dropship behind him cut off its engines as it lay still, landing softly on the ground. Colonel Krous walked over to the veteran Spartan, saluting him. John-117 returned the salute. The Colonel spoke up first, "You'll be working with a few other Spartans, some of 'em are in the fields, a few are right here. Get yourself situated, we still have some time before --" A tremor under the feet of the Marines let out a faint rumble, yet no cracks formed in the ground. A sea of orange filled a plain of what was once green. "Shit! They got here faster than we expected!" A shock ran through the troops as they saw the great depth of the Grunts along a plain, stampeding ever so quickly toward them. "When we're done with those dogs, meet back at the LZ for transport back to base! Marines, move out," shouted Colonel Krous. The Master Chief realized he didn't have any time to prepare himself, but then again wasn't he already prepared?
     The first few waves of Grunts were obliterated by the Lotus mines as line after line of orange rushed across the battlefield only to be lifted to the heavens by multiple flares of heat that shot out from the ground in random locations. By the time the Marines made it to the plain that the Grunts were being decimated on all the Lotus mines had been used, yet more and more Grunts were charging. To the Marines it seemed endless. The Master Chief noticed the strain in the Grunts, the eyes much more fiercer in these Grunts than the eyes of the ones he mopped up on Halo, as if they were determined to win this battle no matter what. The Marines held their assault rifles against their shoulders as they charged onto the plain to meet their enemy face to face. When all the soldiers were in firing range of the Grunts, a sergeant shouted "Lines One and Two! Double Time!" Following their orders, the bundling mass of Marines organized itself into two separate lines. The sergeant boomed once more "Throw grenades and fire!" With that command flew a massive volley of grenades landing into the squads of Grunts, soon letting off numerous pillars of fire throughout enemy lines. The Marines held their triggers down on their assault rifles, unloading their clips. Rounds of lead repelled the oncoming Grunts only a bit longer till they finally made it to the Marines.
     What followed was chaos; the lines of Marines broke off either forming into squads or leaving soldiers alone in battle, divided against the Covenant. In the rear of the herd of Grunts were several Elites, including a commander. Three Warthogs broke through the swarm of Grunts with their LAAG cannons firing continuously at the simple yet viscous creatures. An Elite let out a curdling scream as a Warthog slammed into it, pushing the Elite's body under the right-side tires of the Warthog, ending its destructive life. The Master Chief's mind raced with tactics as he sprinted through the lines of Grunts toward an Elite, his MA6C AR rounds diminishing the shield of the heathen beast as he came closer to it. A grey blur formed between the Elite Commander and Master Chief as a snap cut through the air, causing the Elite Commander to fall to the ground with a thud. John felt a bit uneasy, though. He felt that he could mess up at any moment. After all, it had been six long years since he went into battle, and without Cortana with him presently, he was feeling most unconfident in himself. The last thing John wanted to do was get other men killed at his expense.
     Diego stood among multiple Grunts, all of which were poised in his direction, ready to fire on him. And they did. Diego's HUD filled up with green as plasma bolts made their way toward him. Diego let the bolts come as close as they could before he launched himself off the ground backwards, his body turning so fast it seemed slow, allowing his hands to reach for the ground. A gleam of sunlight reflected off his armor, shimmering because he was moving so quickly. He pushed his erect body off of the ground by using his arms, landing perfectly on his boots. The bolts had passed over him while he was mid-way through his flip. One Grunt yelled "NoOoOo! He's gonna get us!" while another one yelled, "Ruuuuuuun!" Diego reached for the rifle that was slung across his left shoulder, grabbing it by its handle. Instead of putting the rifle to his shoulders, which he didn't have time for considering some of the foolhardy Grunts were about to fire on him again, he held his right arm out while squeezing down the trigger, raking his arm from left to right, laying waste to the Grunts. Some of the Grunts stood their ground as they took round after round till their feet finally gave away and their bodies were flown backwards. With each spark from the end of his rifle's barrel a Grunt was laid to the dirt. It was a form of satisfaction that Diego rarely felt.
     "Alright, everybody! Listen up! We are going to charge onto that plain, and we are gonna take home some blood! If you feel you are not up to the task, put on your pannies and leave!" boomed Lieutenant-Colonel McGrath as he and his troops stood on the ridge of a hill just to the left of the Covenant, ready to flank the enemy within seconds. "Charge!" escaped McGrath's mouth. The Marines ran down the hill, spreading across the plain and joining into the fray of humans and Covenant.
     The Master Chief noticed that more and more men appeared on the battle scene, beginning to exceed the number of Covenant. The Chief's feet stepped to the left, his legs lifting him forward as he performed a leaping dive, his arms bunched against his chest holding his rifle tight. The Chief soared through the air toward an Elite Major, his arms snapping forward to allow the butt of his rifle to make contact with the throat of the red armored beast. The Elite stumbled backwards, crinkling into a pile of pain as it screamed its last breath just as the Master Chief rolled onto the ground. He was crouching after he came out of his roll, his feet planted on the ground. The Chief rose from his position, instantly firing his MA6C Assault Rifle at the numerous Grunts surrounding him.
     Wolfgang's head snapped to his right to look at the bright red Elite charging at him. Is this guy crazy? he thought. Wolfgang shifted all of his weight to his right leg, catapulting off of it. As the Elite major charged at him, Wolfgang flew foward while holding his right arm's elbow out, driving it directly into the chest plate of the Covenant foe. A shimmer of silver flashed over the Elite as its shield died out, leaving it no cover for protection. The forsaken creature was ripe for the taking. The Elite Major reeled back, almost loosing his footing while at the same time Wolfgang dashed foward throwing his left arm out. Wolfgang's gloved hand closed in on itself as the fingers contracted, forming a fist. Wolfgang finished his dash to the Elite Major by adding his own current momentum to his body and rocketing himself off his left leg, still holding his fist. Just as the Elite had regained composure and was ready to strike, a balled, black fist struck him in the face, landing a rock hard blow. The Elite let out a roar that stopped some of the Grunts in their tracks and caused them to look at the fight. Wolfgang had already blitzed past the Elite, moving onto another target, but the after effects of his punch still remained where he hadn't. A line formed from the crown of the Elite's helm to the snout of it's face, cracking the armor in half instantly. The beast grasped for its face as it continued to howl in agony, not being able to stop the suffering. The body of the Elite collapsed onto the ground in misery as it slowly died, its skull now crushed inward.
     Within minutes the battle was over. The corpses of Covenant forces and humans alike were strewn across the battlefield. Blood of crimson taint and neon-blue stained the soil. McGrath's boots lifted over the bodies to get to the Spartan known as Wolfgang. "What'd you think of this battle, Spartan?" asked Lieutenant-Colonel McGrath. "Easy at best. Seems a shame, though. Not much of a challenge in it." Lieutenant-Colonel McGrath had an opaque expression on his face as he wondered what kind of power must have flowed through the Spartan's body where he felt invincible. McGrath would have wished for that power any day. "Well," started McGrath, "let's round up the troops and head back to the LZ."
     The Master Chief made his rounds through the bodies, making sure no Covenant critters had survived that round. Only after the battle was over had he realized that McGrath had flanked the enemy in a surprise attack. Out of the corner of his eye the Chief noticed the Pelican Dropships from the LZ landing on the edge of the plain of where the battle had just been fought. Strange, he thought. He didn't notice those Pelicans flying at them before. They must have been launched during the battle for back-up or an early pick-up.

An open-communications channel was established between the Chief and his fellow Spartans.
CK> Spartans, this is Colonel Krous. Head to the Pelicans, we're lifting off.
Over the comm-channel John heard numerous "Yes, sirs." The Chief scanned the horizon on which the Pelicans were stationed on and noticed that only Krous's troops were piling onto the Dropships. John re-opened the comm-channel stating,
MC> Colonel Krous, why aren't McGrath's troops taking off with us?
CK> We're leaving them behind, soldier. We don't need 'em anymore.
Over the comm-channel another voice chimed in,
W> You mean he's not part of the UNSC anymore? What for? He didn't act on his own. He's not autonomous like those others.
CK> Don't argue with me soldier! Get on this Pelican now!
     A tremor as big as the one that occurred before the battle between the Covenant was heard as Colonel Krous was yelling over the communications channel. On the rim of the hills that stood in front of the plain formed a line consisting of the same number of Covenant troops as before. Then, the line extended on both sides of its original ends as more and more Covenant troops arrived on the rim of the plain. The Master Chief thought, So that was the quake we felt before. "Covenant reinforcements have arrived!" yelled McGrath before he began shouting out commands to his troops.
W> We have to help them, Colonel. We can't leave them like that.
CK> No! Get on the dropships now! They can fend for themselves.
D> We're on sir. Me and eleven other Spartans.
W> Diego! You're gonna go through with this?
D> Those are my orders, Wolf.
W> You're slime, Diego. Real slime. You're gonna let them get killed?
D> Like a true soldier, I know to accept my orders. Sacrifices have to be made, Wolf.
MC> Wait a second. We're abandoning our Marines? Colonel Krous, I can have you court-martial--
W> Don't bother, Master Chief. It's a standard thing now-a-days to leave behind men. Nothing will happen to Krous. He's no doubt been ordered to leave McGrath behind.
     John didn't know what to do. He had to take orders, but then again he couldn't let lives be lost like this. His whole life had been based on obeying, being given orders and executing those orders. If he couldn't do that, then the foundation on which he rested would fall through. After a long pause John decided what he would do.
MC> I'm staying.
W> As am I.
The Covenant forces drew closer, the gap between McGrath troops and the Covenant closing quickly.
CK> Suit yourself. You've just lost a career with the Marines.
D> See you around sometime, Wolf.
W> And after that, it'll be the last time.
The communications channel between the Spartans and Colonel Krous and his troops closed, yet remained open between the Spartans that had stayed on the ground.
MC> Hey, that one Spartan, Diego, said that him and eleven other Spartans were onboard the Pelicans. That means that eight of us are still here.
W> Lets retreat and re-group. There's no way we can take on that amount of Covenant with our numbers dwindled. I'll round up the other Spartans. Tell McGrath to rendezvous with us at a Point 034-689-001. It's right over an underground testing lab that was used for us Spartans, so it's safe. Good luck, Master Chief.
MC> Good luck.
     John had lied to Wolfgang. He didn't believe in luck. The Chief blitzed across the plain to McGrath, telling him the news. "Son of a bitch! That low-life mother fucker!" McGrath ordered his troops to retreat soon after he finished yelling his obscenities.

Order of the Seraphim Chapter 4
Date: 3 July 2002, 3:31 am

To stand on the side of the righteous is to do justice

- Broken Wings -

Date: 5/25/2558
Location: Underground Lab at coordinates 034-689-001
Time of Day: 6:04 P.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝThe ground before them lifted upward, forming a steep ramp which concealed a rectangular hole in the ground. "This is it," Wolfgang told former Lieutenant-Colonel McGrath and the Master Chief. Wolfgang lead the Master Chief down the hole, followed by McGrath and his marines as well as the other two Spartans. As they all walked down the ramp Wolfgang told John, "I couldn't find the others, Chief. Hopefully they weren't killed." John shook his head, relinquishing the thought of any of them being dead. Wolfgang went on, "Probably got caught up in battle with the Cov-Reinforcements that were approaching. Y'know, by the edge, on the fray." John responded logically, "If that were the case, and they had sought out refuge after the battle, they would have contacted us." Wolfgang was lost in his thoughts after that statement while John suddenly realized that what he said would hide a much deeper meaning.
ÝÝÝÝÝIt was nightfall by the time everyone had become situated to the underground base/lab testing facility. John had acquainted himself earlier with the other two Spartans whom he knew as Cyril and Adam. Darkness swallowed the room that John resided in, his body seated on the end of his bunk. The man's face was buried in his hands as his mind faltered for answers. He sat there for quite some time not making a sound, barely breathing, pondering why the betrayal of McGrath's Marines ever occurred. It seemed absurd to him to leave an ally behind; friends behind. John hadn't known any of the men, but he was damn sure they knew eachother. How could Krous have done that? he thought. A visual of the Grunts appeared to him, sparking another question in his mind. Why hadn't the Covenant just glassed the planet? Why send their forces down here for so long? John took note of the fact that the only other time this had happened was when the Covenant desired something for themselves, something critical; Halo. Another question formed from the depths of his mind. Do they want Earth? Too much to fast, he thought. John laid his body flat on the bed hoping to sleep so that his brain could come up with some answers to his questions.
ÝÝÝÝÝSilence filled the air. John noticed the silence, but why? He wasn't entirely asleep. Something felt off, but he figured he only felt that way because he was shaken up from today's betrayal. Then it hit him; literally. John was thrown from his bed and ended up rolling on the ground. His eyes opened as his hands felt over the smooth surface of the concrete floor, his skin clinging to the cold stone. Using his arms, John pushed his body off the ground. A knee nailed John in the center of his back just as he had risen to his feet, causing him to stagger forward into the arms of the stranger that was in front of him. John could see in the dark thanks to his genetic advancements, but light was still his favorite choice for when he battled against an opponent; especially two of them. The arms around him constricted, cutting off his air while causing his muscles to cramp.
ÝÝÝÝÝA vein protruded from John's neck as he summoned up strength, his face turning into a dark red. John's head went rearing back a bit then slammed forward into his aggressor's forehead; once, twice, and finally a third time, causing the man to loose his grip altogether. He had heard the crunch and felt the dent he made in the man's skull. The arms around John unfastened, allowing him to drop to his feet, where as he instinctively ducked, feeling the whoosh of air pass over his head. John glanced up to see a tensed arm and fist where he had just stood. The Spartan of lore let out a heavy breath as sweat began to appear across his body and face; not a flood of perspiration, but just enough to cool him down. John's upper body leaned closer to the ground to gain balance while he planted his palms on the floor. His hands stuck to the ground while his left leg, a mass of tendons and muscles, ripped through the air behind him, making contact with the sternum of the second aggressor. The man flew backwards without having his feet drag on the ground, giving John just enough time to back up from the both of them.
ÝÝÝÝÝLuckily for John there was enough space in the room that he wasn't against a wall. By the time John had regained his own posture the other two men had picked themselves off the floor. His eyes darted from the first man to the second man, sizing them up. He then recognized the second man; he was Adam. John still couldn't figure out who the other man was, knowing it wasn't Wolfgang, because their body sizes didn't match. Perhaps Cyril? John thought. He didn't waste any more time looking over his opponents; now John was going return the favor they had so willingly given him. John held his arms out before him, increasing the tension in his muscles, flexing them as he brought them closer to his body. He could feel the adrenaline coursing throughout his body as his breathing became faster and heavier. In an attempt to regulate his breathing, he drew air through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, allowing him to moderate his cardio. Muscles bulked all over his arms, his pecs stiffening ready to take any blows that they may receive. The veins on his entire body were poking through the skin, showing what great health he was in and the physical superiority he was about to unleash. Even though the two John were about to fight were Spartans as well, no doubt trained (to some extent) better than he was, John was positive he was going to win.
ÝÝÝÝÝHis feet lifted off the ground as he pumped his legs, his teeth gritting in fury, running for the stranger who had first attacked him. John raised his right arm, the muscles of the forearm well developed and bulking as well, a constant throbbing present in John's body as he continued to pursue his enemy, his digits closing tightly. He could hear Adam's footsteps behind him, knowing he would be caught in the back again if he didn't act fast. John had false intentions of making contact with the aggressor's upper torso. The other man brought his own arms up in an X-formation over his chest in hopes of protecting himself from John's blow. All the good it did as John suddenly dropped toward the ground in a crouching position, never even landing a hit on the stranger. The aggressive stranger looked down at John, blinking as he did so. What a mistake that was. John performed a sweep kick by holding his left leg out and above the ground a bit, pushing off the concrete floor with his arms into a spin, hoping to knock both of his opponents to the ground as he rotated. John's eyes caught Adam walking right into him. He felt two pillars fall, then another pair of hulking legs lose stability, giving him his cue. John's right leg sprung upwards, lifting him off of the ground, soon stretching fully as his left leg came close to his body and coiled. Two men laid on their backs on the floor wondering how they made the mistake of letting John get the upper hand.
ÝÝÝÝÝWhile John was in the air he raised his right hand above his head, forming his fingers into a fist, the knuckles turning white under the intense pressure John was holding in them as his body soon soared over Adam's. John descended toward the ground bringing his fist forward, anger turning into a scream as John roared at his prey, the veins became more pronounced, the skin stretching to contain the swelling muscles. He could feel a burning sensation run through his body as he fell toward his victim. John noticed that while he was going down, the stranger had lifted himself off of the ground. John landed on Adam with his coiled right leg, his entire fist passing through the center of Adam's body, penetrating the solar plexus. Adam let out a curdling scream, his limbs flailing in vain because he was pinned to the ground by John. John grabbed an end of the torn skin, ripping it downward toward the waist of Adam, exposing the stomach and a few other vital organs. He rose to his feet quickly, lifting up his left Greek column of a leg which all of his weight was forced onto now. There was a sudden blur that resulted in blood and other juices spouting from Adam's stomach that could be heard with a deafening crack as the concrete below the cowardly soldier split apart under John's foot.
ÝÝÝÝÝJohn was now coated in sweat, his breathing heavy because of the excess of adrenaline running through his blood stream. John pulled his foot from the mess he had just made of Adam, his chin tucked in as he stared at the stranger in the darkness with his eyes narrowed, setting his bloody foot back onto the floor. A blinding flash erupted around him causing light to fill the darkness. His hazel pupils narrowed as they took in the light. "What's goin' on!?" yelled a voice from a figure on the other side of the room who was soon followed by another man. John's eyes shifted from the stranger to the two men as they approached him and his attacker, realizing they were both Wolfgang and Cyril. So, this guy isn't Cyril after all... thought John gladly. "Holy shit, what the hell happened here, John!?" asked Cyril who was currently gawking at the mutilated corpse of Adam. The stranger must have been struck with terror, because he never attempted to flee while Wolfgang and Cyril were present. "These two attacked me in my sleep, Wolf. I don't know who this guy is," John shouted toward Wolfgang in a rather expressive manner of anger as he pointed to the other man, "but he tried double-teaming me with Adam." Cyril, who had finally picked his jaw up off the floor, came up from behind the petrified viewer, grasping his left arm and turning it backwards behind the man's head, forcing a small amount of weight onto the wrist and shoulder. "On your knees," Cyril told him. The man flinched in pain and let out a small cry as he was pushed to the floor, lying on his knees with his head down in humiliation and terror.
ÝÝÝÝÝWolfgang walked around the kneeling figure to face him, shaking his head in disgust. "I know who this is. His name's Janus. He's a Spartan, but it doesn't show, does it?" John replied, "Not a bit." Wolfgang drew closer to Janus, standing over him in a dominant manner. "Who let you in here? Did Adam let you in?" Janus, with his knees still on the ground and his head lowered, nodded. "Figures," Wolfgang said with a hint of anger in his tone. Wolfgang walked off, exiting through the door from which he had originally came. John looked at the man kneeling before him, now knowing that his name was Janus. John spoke inquisitively, "Do you know where Cortana's located?" Janus remained silent, his eyes and head lowered as not a single sound escaped his mouth. A long period of silence occurred. "I don't think so, buddy. You're gonna answer," Cyril boomed as he twisted his victim's arm, causing Janus to let out a scream. Janus gave in, only seeming to respond to pain. "She's at the base in Machakos," he exlaimed panting, "Where we were before the battle." John thanked Janus, saying "Good. But do you know how long she'll be there?" Janus lifted his head up, looking John in the eye as he said, "I don't know. A few days or a few months. No doubt ONI wants her." John saw Wolfgang enter the room once again out of the corner of his eye, but this time Wolfgang was holding something in his hands. John decided to end his little interrogation of Janus by telling the man, "Since you've been cooperative, I'll let you live." Cyril had already let go of Janus, yet he still remained on his knees on the floor. A loud bang went off that made John's ears ring. The body of Janus fell foward onto the ground making a soft thud noise and blood poured from the opened neck of the corpse. John couldn't see a head, much less look for one. Only tears and chunks of flesh laid on the ground where the head should have been. John's eyes raised from the headless body of Janus to the hand of Wolfgang, only to find the smoking end of a pistol's barrel. "There were only explosive rounds in it, so I used what I could," Wolfgang said to John casually. "If we had let him go he only would have returned. Besides," he remarked casually, "I know you weren't serious about letting him go." Wolfgang was right, John wasn't serious about letting Janus go, but he previously had a different way of getting rid of him in mind. Cyril was standing off to the side of the body. "Well, that's two messes we have to clean up now," he said.

author's note: This would have been submitted during the month of May, but I thought it was incomplete. I wanted to add at least another four pages of content. I held off writing those last four pages for months. I went over it tonight and decided I didn't need to add anything else. (Basically, my waiting for sparks of brilliance was in vain.) This is short, and could have been submitted along time ago. I feel it's incomplete, but I have to turn something in.
Hope you enjoyed it.

Order of the Seraphim Chapter 5 - Nightmare of Reality, Intruder of Dreams
Date: 28 November 2002, 10:07 pm

John was walking down the lit hallway of the base/lab facility when a power surge occurred. The lights flickered momentarily, and then darkness spread over the entire base like the ninth plague of Egypt. He stopped walking for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the recent darkness. Not even a metallic sheen appeared from the walls. No light was anywhere. What stuck out in John's mind far more than the reason as to why the power went out was the question of why hadn't anyone seemed to notice. None of the other soldiers who were in their rooms had come out of them to inquire about the power failure. A silhouette at the end of the hallway ahead of John became visible for only a second until it had vanished into the darkness.

"Hey! You! Come back!"

John walked at a brisk pace down the hallway, thinking the person might not have heard him. John reached the turn in the hallway, his eyes having totally adjusted to his surroundings. He couldn't make out fine details, but he could see a form and a hostile fist if he needed to. His head turned to the right, looking down the hallway. Nothing. Just a leering void of black. He looked to the left afterwards, finding nothing once again. A slamming footstep was heard that resonated off the metal floor of the hallways. Whatever was moving, it was either tremendous in size or had powerful legs. John looked to his right again, still seeing nothing, but believing that was the direction from which he heard the noise. His legs carried him down the right hallway while his feet pounded against the floor, sounding off ringing tones. He stopped about midway between his former position and the end of the corridor, which was his destination. A passage was missing. There was supposed to be a hallway that lead to the right from where John was standing currently. Even though it was dark now due to the loss of power, John was, without a doubt, positive that a hallway was supposed to be where he was looking at. Now only a wall replaced the missing passage. John reached out through the darkness with his right hand to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and felt along the wall. His fingertips felt titanium alloy.
John shrank back from the wall and gasped briefly, his chest heaving. He raised his right hand to his eyes, rubbing his thumb against his four fingers to make sure what he felt wasn't a couple of nerves in his hand going haywire. He brought the tips of his fingers to his eye to examine what he may or may not be feeling, then took a whiff of it through his nostrils to test if he had ever encountered this chemical substance before; this slime. John placed his right hand against the wall again, feeling lower and lower and touching more and more gunk. His hand became swallowed in the substance.

"You can stop the game now! If you need help with chemicals, I can help you!"

John shouted in futility down either side of the hallway, at last turning back to the appropriate direction of which he was heading, which was forward and further down the hallway. A ray of light exposed itself, yet not at him. With the light visible, even though a sheer thin slice of it, it caused his pupils to shrink a bit. The source of the light was hidden by a corner of yet another turn in this now maze-like hallway system. John pursued the source of light. His breathing quickened as he pumped his arms furiously. As he came upon the light, darkness descended on him once again when the light went out and something was heard falling to the ground. This time it wasn't a stomp, but a muffled thud. John's pupils were dilated enough to distinguish the shape of what had fallen on the metal floor. He walked over to the body of whatever soldier it may be and placed his fingers under the chin of the man's face. While doing so, John noticed that the man's hands and arms were comfortable at his side, meaning no resistance occurred between him and whatever it was that knocked the man over. John tilted the face upwards, so that he may get a better look at who it was that ceased to be breathing. Brown hair down to the shoulders, brown eyes open wide in fear. Cheeks flushed, filled with blood. A hawkish nose. Wolfgang. His mouth was open. Open for what? For nothing, because the only sound made was Wolf's body hitting the floor.
John leaped to his feet in terror, looking over his shoulder and in front of him. And with good reason, too. There wasn't a mark on Wolfgang, yet he wasn't alive. Wolfgang showed signs of an external force acting upon him with his eyes wide in terror. No one looks like the way they do because of a virus or a heart attack. He looked in perfect condition and health, only dead. Upon glancing about for safety, John noticed the flashlight that had rolled away from the body of Wolfgang and was now lying on the floor with its switch off. John decided not to use the flashlight, as it would alert his position in the darkness to whatever had killed his comrade. John took a slow step backward, stepping away from the body. He slowly turned his head from the corpse, looking in the darkness for any sign of help.
A garbled noise emitted and filled the hallway, but the direction from which it came from was indistinguishable. John looked about frantically, feeling threatened and trapped in such a cramped space. A tentacle of an alien ligament wrapped John's right arm, jerking it behind his back while a deformed hand with its bones exposed gripped his left forearm, binding him. John could feel moisture; an unrelenting moisture that thickened. His feet were knocked out from under him and he was being dragged on the ground, too frightened to scream. There was no MJOLNIR armor, no shield, no weaponry, no light that could save him. Only darkness and a merciless aggressor. John could feel additional tentacles pressing on his stomach as he was being dragged. Everything stopped: the dragging, the noise, the slim oozing down his arms. A scream of pain and terror filled the vacant and darkly consumed hallways as John's stomach was penetrated and his intestines picked apart.
Another yell was heard as Wolfgang rolled out of bed, running barefoot over to John who was lying on the floor screaming and convulsing. "John, what the hell!? Wake up! Wake up," Wolfgang yelled as he shook John's shoulders. Other soldiers were roused from their beds by the screaming of John, which had not lessened any. A soldier flicked on the lights amidst the screams. "Someone get some water!" Luckily, a few soldiers had brought in bottles of water before they went to bed and they were soon pouring what was left of their drinks over the ethereally terrified John. John's eyes opened to a different world now. There was a light, Wolfgang was standing over him instead of the other way around, and many eyes peering at him, all of which belonged to fellow soldiers. The screaming died down and was replaced by heaving breathing. "It was just a dream, try to calm down," said Wolfgang offering John some water in a bottle that had not been poured over John. He took the bottle in his right hand, "Thanks." Taking a sip, John realized the dreams would either stop or become worse. Even a man trained for war is still a man, and the "regular" soldiers were now finding this out.

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