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Day Three, Armor-haul, 001 DA (During Ascension)
Dear Seeker,

Just to Clarify for you, since these texts have been deteriorating over the course of time. I admit, as anyone should; that everything is a little... no a lot garbled. The great scribes do not know the cause of this, but are hinting at time anomalies.
Discretion is advised when reading such 'misused' materials, there's no telling what little imps are going to leap out!

What you all saw in the first parts- a vision of the future, a group of marines trapped in a small installation, pretty much being slaughtered by a lone swordsman with a taste for human blood. The identity of this brutal, ruthless warrior was never discovered.
Still in the future tense, a small wing of Covenant strike craft performing a strafing run- on a UNSC vessel called the 'Martyr' encounters some difficulty with the new lab-rat; a genetically enhanced killing machine. Was this before, or after the slaughter of those marines?

This (The Strafe on the UNSC vessel) is from an elite's (In the Covenant tongue a Torra) point of view. A gentleman named 'Kerdel'. A stalwart defender of the faith, this crimson clad zealot is strict with codes and regimentation.
In short, due to the actions of the lab experiment- (The Genetically enhanced Killer) the UNSC vessel is destroyed with very little effort, (not to mention casualty.)
-From there we slide to Reach II, a planet discovered by humanity a few thousand years in the past, protected by the mighty fleets on the United Nations Space Command. Our prime suspect here, a human named Eric Fields. We don't get to discover much on him, other than the fact that he has a sick stomach. His life will be addressed later, naturally by me.

At last, time shifts again into the past years of 2552 to about 2555 into a rather 'magical' place called facility four, an ONI post on Reach II in a newly discovered system; used to monitor the system-wide activity and base certain special projects.
Let's head into the control tower.
Alec Duran was just like any moderately skilled officer, knowing what he had to do, but for some reason still complaining. An average, pathetic little sub-planar human meat sack, as they usually come.
Captain Laura Trenton was his ideal crush, the perfect woman.
At this point we realize something profound, Covenant signatures on a human mainframe. Something that can be added to the new super-weapon; which turns out- to be a massive battle platform; called the 'Fafnir'.
Preston Cole is revealed to be Laura's foster father, and a very bad one at that.
After a slight misunderstanding, Laura is left with the night shift, Alec, a free trip to quarters, and Cole, one very angry progeny.

Changing perspective, reader; we look to the innocent guy, David Carter. He's an average fellow with a unique outlook on life, and a rather interesting pet falcon. Through some dull moments, he's targeted for some sort of an operation by three unknown attackers. True to human cowardice, he agrees to their plans.

Back on Reach II, Laura and her ONI cohorts spice up the moods with a night of party. Something odd is happening with Alec, but no one can put a finger on it.
Elsewhere, some place of the unknown, David Carter's brother Jamey- an ONI spook, is assassinated by several rather professional killers.

Laura Trenton, now imprisoned in her quarters for a 'crime she did not commit', reflects on the past and present with the help of a friendly Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. (By some references these were human special-forces units employed by the UNSC to assist the marine forces)
Augustus Timber, a man renowned for his unorthodox, often fatal training exercises, makes himself known to the Facility Four staff, up close and personal. By the end of the day over thirty human lives are lost.

The next day, Cole and Augustus are caught in some sort of an office or briefing room, arguing over some choices to captain the new vessel. Laura, or someone else?
It is agreed that Augustus will go speak with Laura.
The Admiral moves to speak with his Niece, and directs her to a party where the final decision will be made.
At the party, Alec Duran and a woman who'd previously lent Laura a human drug called 'Tylenol' (I believe this was used to relieve pain) waited for their good friend. Augustus and the Captain arrive just in time to become the 'life of the party'. (In case there is any confusion, this term is a metaphor, which was used to describe the best thing or the being or object that had made the best use at the gathering)
For a short time couples start performing dance, until the inspiration dies out. Alec takes Laura into a back alley...
Inside, all hell breaks loose.
A woman calling herself Halsey raids the ONI gathering with two compatriots, letting off rounds with abandon. Laura and Alec rush in to do what they can, even as Augustus fights for the life of every surviving member. This ultimately fails when one of Halsey's compatriots (Later identified as a man named 'Bubba') brings Alec into a daze, and begins to torture Laura.
Augustus has something to say about this, brutally 'murdering' the unfortunate fop and shepherding his niece to safety.
Seconds later the admiral is attacked by Grigor, he deals with the vampire shortly thereafter; and a duel between he and Halsey begins.

Laura Trenton and Alec Duran make their way to the airbase, where pure chance allows the two to be separated. Laura is missing an ear, which miraculously grows back. Alec, previously consumed in a plasma mortar blast, walks out, too unharmed. His eyes radiate a yellow gold.
Shortly thereafter, he meets up with a small group of Covenant warriors.

Several human sympathizers- Human themselves, are guarding an entrance to the SCS Fafnir.
A special-forces unit called the 'Everlasting' attacks these sympathizers. Somehow, these Jackals move incredibly fast. So fast, as to be unstoppable.
They clear an entrance to the mighty vessel, and com-link some outside authority.
Meanwhile, the battle rages in the space surrounding Reach II, valiant UNSC crews spearheading counter-attacks, and still losing numbers rapidly.
Following this, the pools of time had seen fit to shift, and reveal that Alec and Laura had locked themselves in a rather lengthy fight. Alec was the victor. He drags the Captain to the Fafnir, revealing many things- from rape to heritage.
It turns out that Doctor Halsey was never in it for the good of humanity, but personal gain, a vampire on a mission. The Spartan II project was a fluke. She sought to create the perfect killers from the view of a perfect killer. Human genetic tags- meant nothing here. Augmentation...
Still nothing, human simply cannot endure such a thing.
Each Spartan was given Canite blood. In simple terms, the Spartans were half vampires.
Just as it is revealed, Laura is a half vampire, that Alec... Is a half Vampire!
The Carter child was taken for the same reason. You see that, yes? He was to become a new... Half Vampire- a new Spartan.
That's the funny thing about Vampires, they seem to pop up everywhere. (Forgive me, Seeker, I ramble once again.)

High in orbit the UNSC fleets guarding Reach II pick up a distress signal from Facility Four. By accident, or design?
The First Recon is sent in to investigate... After a briefing, which occurs on short notice, the First Recon and its marine blocking and reserve forces prepare to depart.

In any case, I cannot continue writing to you by my own hand. The Queen calls- and she is impatient. She is kind, but impatient with matters such as these. Perhaps she and I can grow to trust each other? In truth, I do not know.
I will return shortly, however, no doubt with bad news.
For now, I invite you all to peer into my viewing glass and vision pools. I hope, for your sake, that these reputed time anomalies do not suck you in with them. For I doubt that even Rhias the Dark could save you.

With utmost caution,
-Maugrim Furyhammer, first Reaver to the Lady and Queen of Aginas

We're going with what?

"Could anyone tell me what the hell this is?"
"That, Sargent Stacker is what's going to save your life." Corporal Erica McKnight replied nonchalantly.

She didn't like Stacker. He was a morale booster, maybe a motivational speaker. But he was a marine. For him such an occupation was perfect. He had the mouth, and the skill to back it up. He was the perfect choice for a Sargent, aside from the quiet kind.
Maybe that was why she didn't like him. Because he was better than she could ever be. Not in skill or experience, but just being himself, keeping his cool through the worst of it all, yet retaining a defiant, loud-mouth demeanor.
"That's funny Corporal, I thought I saw a First Recon."

Erica didn't answer that; too busy thinking about how the UNSC was pretty evenly matched these days. Both men and women on serving lists in equal number in every role. Pretty pathetic though, that when humanity was finally starting to get stuff right, it was being killed off.
Watching Stacker open a weapons locker, she couldn't help but notice how much bigger a Marine's weapons seemed to be.
It wasn't the size that mattered in these times, though. It was what they were packing.
Stacker yanked an MA5B and slammed a clip in. Naturally, he forgot to flick the safety on.

"Sergeant, safety your weapon or I'm going to do it for you."
He turned with an evil eye already plastered to his mug face. "This military does have rank structure, soldier!"
Yeah, she did hate Stacker. "Sir, safety your weapon, sir, or I'm going to do it for you... sir."

Somebody was pacing up to him, no, was standing next to him- another Marine, by appearance. They started whispering. Evidently what was said called Stacker to be pretty pissed.

Erica carefully slid a rifle from the weapons rack.
Black coloration, slightly shorter than an MA5B, with about half the ammunition capacity.
The rifle itself was fitted with a Dual-LAM, and oddly enough, a flash suppressor. Not that, that would do any good.
It fired off what seemed like a standard 7.62mm round. Such things could easily fool someone, until the round hit.
In fact, they were covered with little hook-like spikes, which if handled correctly couldn't hurt you. Being fired from a gun, that was different. The round would exit the barrel, and proceed towards the target like any fin-stabilized bullet. After entry, the round itself starts to dissipate, liquefying as if it was water. It may not seem harmful at first, but considering you've already got internal cavities the size of small oranges, and the inability to pull out the round safely because of those little hooks...
Which brought her point to the fact that they were filled with white phosphorus. Anyone's guess what that did.
Standard First Recon issue, the ever-so-subtle Cougar AC-34 Assault Rifle.
Secondly, she grabbed a weapon called an MD6-2; your standard M6D Pistol, only elongated, this one too, fitted with a flash suppressor. This weapon was used not only with First Recon, but every other UNSC Spec Ops unit.
To venture a factor...
The weapon would fire discarding sabot rounds. Entry into the target was obvious, due to the harpoon shape. The end result? Fatal, since these rounds often carried the insides of the subject through the exit wound with them.

Quickly, Erica ensured that all equipment was effective and ready. A common question was why take two guns when you already have one? Well, that was simple. People carried a sidearm for a time of not if it broke, but when it broke. This way they'd have a reserve.
She settled a HUD onto her right eye and clamped it down.

"You ready Corporal?" Stacker queried.
Every living warrior that there ever was knew that checks were necessary to ensure that nothing went wrong with the equipment being used. If it did, serious problems could happen.
She knew that it was the Sargent's job to check all personnel before 'Green Light' was given; but she didn't like the fact that it had to be her equipment too. More so than anything else she treasured her gear. Family... She had none.

"Ready as anyone can be, sir. Scared shitless."
Despite hating Stacker, you couldn't help but feel all, mellow when missions came close.
He started feeling along the weak points of her atmospheric 'skull-suit', ensuring that every little piece joining pieces to other pieces had no flaws or over-stretched areas.
All of the Marines were laid back, sitting and chatting. Numerous key phrases kept echoing into her general area.

"Man, I don't think we're going to make it this time."
"That's bad luck, man." Another replied.
"Yeah..."

Her First Recon were all situated around what looked like a giant table, reviewing notes and orally going over possible tactical scenarios.
"Sargent, these Marines, are they fresh out of basic?"
He flicked her HUD's switch into the 'on' position. "Look left." She did so.
Had he chosen to ignore her? She knew many people who would. Not many people warmed up very well with trained killers.
"Sargent..." Erica mumbled.
"Look right." Again, she followed his instructions.
Just as she'd brought her head to a stop, Stacker leaned in. "Yeah." The Marine squad leader whispered.

From across the room Private Wooly Castor was watching both Stacker and McKnight.
Being the ranking officer, Stacker had checked his marines already. First Recon and UEG Marine forces were inter-linked units, one occasionally operating off the other.
Stacker looked over an atmospherically sealed air mask, and set it across McKnight's head, clamping the supple cloth-like material in place. Despite a fragile appearance it was actually quite durable, and rumored to be capable of stopping some types of rounds with minimal damage.
He nodded, and turned to re-check the rest of the First Recon.
The UNSC taught its fighters to look out for their own, be they of the same unit, station and/or profession or not.
Erica moved over to sit alone beside the window. Watching the stars. She took something out of her pocket and started playing with it.
"Check this out, man." Private Fred Campbell spoke at last. His good friend had been standing with him the whole time. "She's sharpening a fucking custom-made solid titanium combat knife... with a rubber grip."

"What's so odd about that? A lot of combat knives have rubber grips..."
"No she's sharpening a combat knife with a rubber grip." Wooly insisted.
"Yeah I know, I'm going to reply like I just did two seconds ago. A lot of combat knives have rubber grips these days."
Wooly rolled his eyes and mumbled something foul.
"She's sharpening a combat knife." The Private sounded slowly.
"Yeah."
"You know how people use sharpening stones?"
"Uh-huh."
"Our good friend the Corporal is using a rubber grip to sharpen her combat knife, which need I remind you has a tally chart labeled 'Souls presently burning in Hell' and evenly spread, exact one centimeter lines weighing in at a rough twenty three strong head count. You want proof? Go ask Cheesehood. We had him check with his scope."

They had Private Cheesehood, the Squad's best sniper, use the scope of an S2 AM to look at a combat knife? One thing he could have said was 'You need help.'
His tongue however, betrayed him.
"I'll do just that." Wooly countered.

Sargent Stacker got there first. He strode through the doors with his MA5B shouldered, and a clipboard in hand.
"Marines!" He shouted much too loudly. "To your rally, on the double!"
They finished off their conversations and equipment checks, and filed out. Stacker himself started to leave.
"You heard the man!" One of the First Recon mediated. Loyal as ever, they hefted their belongings, and moved to follow Stacker.
Seeing that others were pursuing, Stacker moved off towards his own rally point.

Wooly stepped from his hiding place. Shortly thereafter he took a seat at one of the many benches in the room. How could he fight something as ferocious as the Covenant War Machine? How could anyone do it?
They were unstoppable. He'd heard stories about the blue variety, which were the simplest, lowliest of elite-kind decimating entire squads in no more than one minute.
Heck, he'd even heard one story about three grunts, who took down two Fireteams of Marines with their highly versatile plasma pistols.
Wooly honestly didn't know if he, or anyone else in his squad, would last more than thirty seconds at the most. Superheated plasma flying at you, blistering your skin before it even touches you... Sucking away the air you breathe and leaving a nasty acrid odor...
He finally decided to look up from his five-second misery, and found himself staring directly into the eyes of Corporal McKnight; First Recon's now ranking officer.
Wooly couldn't help but jump back, terrified half to death over the sight of the blonde haired, green-eyed woman (proven to be a killer) looking at him with kindness and reassurance.

It took a little while, but he settled back and regained composure.
"What's up, Private Castor?" Erica spoke without emotion.
"I... I can't do it, what if I get everyone killed? Because of my mistake, everyone is killed..."
She shook her head. "Just watch your area, cover your team. Warthogs are going to cover you."

What she was talking about, the Warthog; that was the standard UEG light reconnaissance vehicle. The M 12 LRV or 'Warthog' as the Marines called it.
It was a fairly durable thing, capable of high speeds while still firing its mounted gun with deadly accuracy. All that mattered was the shooter. However, they weren't fighting any human foe...

"We'll be fighting Covenant!"
Her right palm smacked into his shoulder in what was definitely not a show of kindness.
"You listen to me, if that's what you want, to sit here and rot while everyone else dies for you; No one else can stop you. I just hope you remember who you've failed today."
Some might have thought it funny that he was talking to a HUD equipped store mannequin. That was what she looked like, since nothing could be seen of her actual claims to humanity, probably due to the fact that it was all under a close-fitting atmospheric suit.
She turned without another word, and moved off to the entryway.

Could he do it? Dare he face with his squad and assault the most powerful destructive force humanity had ever known to exist; and attempt to win out?
His friends, his brothers, sure would. They were the true heroes, to him. The guys who could do anything for humanity, those few you could count on. But war was about fighting for your cause, wasn't it?
About defending something you cared for, doing what no one else could do.
A lot of people said it was...
But hadn't Erica said that he'd be failing everyone if he didn't go, didn't fight. No, he wouldn't fail; the Sarge had taught him that failure was not an option. Drilled it into him the day he set foot in boot camp. Besides, if he failed, the Sarge would send him to hell. But at least he would die protecting- no he'd die and protect his squad. He wouldn't let down the man next to him.
"Corporal!" He exulted.
The FR paused.
"Wait for me!"

Erica looked to him, and tapped her HUD.
Wooly flicked his own on, and watched the little letters scrawl across his eye.

Audio Activated...

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, you know the drill. Mission code word... Is, Ashes."

Audio Deactivated.

Wooly shouldered his gear, and walked out the door. "Thanks, Corporal." He called.
"Hey, Wooly! Hurry your ass up! Tell the guy in there with you to move his ass too, we've got pods to share!"
Pods to share. Oh right, one squad was sharing entry with the FR guys. The Corporal seemed like a pretty good person, if she was going to be nailed for his lack of spirit...
"What other guy Fred?" He tried to act confused.
"Wasn't someone in there with you?"
"No."
"Huh, I could've sworn I saw one of those FR people in there..." Private Campbell insisted.
Time to pull weight and cover. "No, dude, you must be seeing things."
They departed with a small glimmer of hope, even in the midst of such an important mission as they had been given, they could find some mild humor, and actually bring a meaning to it. Such things were really quite amazing, Wooly figured. Just up ahead was their indicated point, the CSaR Pelicans they'd be using for their mission.
Fred gasped. "Wooly look!" Everything was normal; the squad was busy loading any last-minute supplies onto the pelican. Stacker was giving his psyche speech, getting his men ready for battle. Hell, all of the tech guys and gals were readying Skyhawk Jump Jets for departure. Not only that, but a reassuring voice had just started talking over ship-wide com. Neither of the marines could hear it though, their complete attention was transfixed on the only eccentric thing they saw. "Chips!" Fred called.
However, Private Chips Dubbo wasn't what they were thinking about.
Stacker waved his hand. "Go, go, go!" The Sargent cried.
For a second Chips looked as if he might respond, but hurriedly turned and leapt onto his waiting ride into battle. He was well liked, funny and always ready with an inspiring remark, even when in the middle of a firefight. Not unlike Stacker, actually. Fred quickly followed Chips in.
Wooly followed suit, taking a seat second from the Pelican's astoundingly wide hatch; next to Private Cheesehood, Squad's Best Sniper. Following him, the Giant took a seat parallel to Cheesehood.
"Hello Ladies and Gents." The Pilot's carefree, cheerful voice smiled over their Pelican's internal speakers.
"I'm Lance Corporal Jason Sins, and I'll be your pilot this evening. While on board my craft there will be no smoking, no drinking, no eating, no discharge of excrements, no weapons fire and absolutely no sexual intercourse with the identical sex. If you have to hurl chunks please use the friendly man in front of you, but be forewarned that in the event of a water landing you may be used as a flotation device."
Some of his squad-mates laughed.
"And as your final warning, keep your arms and legs inside this vehicle during flight time; we are ETA twenty minutes and counting."
Wooly could already hear the JOC communications guy. "All units, Ashes. Say again, we have confirmation of code word Ashes."
"Right on time!" Fred chuckled.

Somebody else was talking over Net frequency now. "Hell yeah! Ashes to Ashes people!" Lance Corporal Sins dropped his skilled hands onto the Pelican's elevation, bringing up the throttle in a gradual climb. The drop ship's fusion engines flared to life and brought them two meters off the flight deck. He closed the hatch with a light tap of one big red button, and switched his frequency to cover Charlie Squad, the guys in the back. "Hold on tight now."
He shoved his body back into the seat and pushed up on the yoke, grunting as the force impacted his lungs, and likely those of his co-pilot and everyone else in the Pelican too.
Seconds after the initial rush, everything settled back to normal.
Wooly was gasping for air. He preferred not to cough his lungs up. Looking to the mighty warrior clad in black Mjolnir armor, he started to think they might actually have a chance after all.
"Jes - us Christ!" Cheesehood shouted. "We're going with a Spartan!"

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