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Author's note-
ok guys its been a really long time since I've been here, I promise it should get better as it progresses.
2553, EARTH
The Marine inhaled, turned the corner and squeezed off a hail of armor piercing rounds down a long, rain drenched street. The Elite's shield absorbed the first salvo but the next two killed the personal protection and easily sliced through the alien's body armor, violet black blood gushed through the newly made depressions. The Sangheili stared down at his devastated armor, his mandibles limp, though he stood standing. Another Marine grew tired of waiting for the alien to fall; he rushed forward and fired a sustained burst into its stomach. The alien doubled over as it fell in a puddle of its own entrails. The mortally wounded Elite starred as the squad of marines jogged past him, none taking the time or the ammunition to put him out of his misery, rain pelted his face as his eyes slowly drifted to a close.
PFC. Ryan Kemp wiped the rain from his eyes as he stepped over the fallen Elite. The empty magazine from his rifle fell the ground with a "clink" and he knocked the next on his helmet and slid it into the receiver. PFC. Michael Fitzgerald stood next to him; assault rifle at the ready, Corporal Ethan Bauer followed, slinging his rifle and kneeling to recover the alien's plasma grenades. Sergeant Jeremy Pearson finally emerged form the building carrying a box of ammunition. He set it down and tossed each of them four magazines and two fragmentation grenades. This was treasure for the humans, ammo was scarce, and it was becoming impossible to find.
New York was a mess, contact with other Marine regiments had been seldom, it had been raining for days, and almost every first story building had been devastated. The four Marines made their way to Times Square, hoping to find human resistance or some form of transportation. Pearson motioned the other men to a stop as he peered around the corner. The street was littered with bodies of humans and Covenant combined, when Pearson sighted what he was looking for: a Warthog. The LRV M41 was in good shape by the looks of it, but it was hard to tell from this distance. Two Ghosts sped down the street followed by a squadron of Grunts that waddled behind. Two matte clad Elites stood in the center of the square, one holding a captured human assault rifle and the other a plasma rifle. Apparently, both factions were having supply issues.
"Alright, Fitzgerald take a flanking position over there on the right with Bauer, Kemp, you're with me, wait for my orders boys, but when you get them, give them hell." Pearson said as he raised his S2 AM sniper's rifle. He activated the 10x scope and zoomed on the ranking Elite's head, Fitzgerald and Bauer disappeared from his peripheral vision. When confident his mark could be hit, he fixed the silencer and tapped the trigger twice, two silent coughs emitted twin death. The first struck the Elite in the sternum, and the second, in the creature's throat. The two vital areas spat blood and exposed organs and muscle tissue. The alien fell into a gutter with a splash, the second Elite was dumbfounded, having now idea what had just befallen his comrade in arms, when a hail of armor piercing rounds brought him to the wet ground in a hurry. A troop of Grunts trotted out form an ally way parallel to Pearson's position. They fired ill placed bolts towards Fitzgerald and Bauer while they took cover behind a flipped vehicle. Kemp waited for the diminutive aliens to expose their flanks and leapt from cover and hosed them down with well placed bursts of ammunition. Two more scarlet clad Elites had emerged from a hotel but Bauer had already put them to their end. Pearson jogged across the wet surface and to the center of the square, Kemp followed. Bauer and Fitzgerald were taking refuge behind an old statue. Another Grunt made a jump from a fallen plasma pistol but missed falling on its face, slipping in the puddles, scrambling to reach to weapon. Fitzgerald approached it slowly and crushed its skull with his boot. Satisfied that the area was reasonably secure, Pearson motioned towards the LRV. The Sergeant himself settled behind the wheel, while Fitzgerald took the gun and Bauer and Kemp took passenger positions. Pearson held his breath as he flicked the ignition switch, the large engine roared to life as the Sergeant smiled.
For the next several hours, the Marines were harassed by all manner of Covenant soldiers, even Hunters, who nearly decimated the entire squad. Pearson swerved past a crashed troop carrier, whose occupants were scattered across the sidewalks. Kemp continues to fiddle with the radio; their own communicators had been limited to SQUADCOM and didn't have the kind of range to reach Echo Base outside of the city. "Got it." Kemp said curtly. "Echo Base this is Private Kemp, our platoon has taken multiple casualties, four of us are left, and we need evacuation ASAP." Kemp ended the transmission and waited for a response. ".....Roger that Marine, we have your position, ready to arrange pickup at safe-zone alpha, do you copy?" the voice came over the radio. Kemp paused and hastily scrambled in the glove box for a map, he consulted the map, which would have been much easier if his HUD was in working operation. The marine found Alpha zone and shook his head. "Negative sir, I don't know if we have enough supplies to make it that far, I have a landing pad marked here only a few miles out." Kemp replied. "....I don't know Marine, area designated is extremely hot, we can't loose another bird...we'll try Marine, but I can't promise anything, but recent transmissions prove another platoon should be moving through grid 36 by 13, you boys have a good chance if you RV with them...sorry." The voice answered regretfully. Kemp began to explain but Pearson silenced him, telling him everyone had heard the transmission. "Looks like we gotta long night ahead of us boys." Pearson called over the large engine's rumblings.
Field Master Motrumee stood silently, rain pelting his impassable look of determination. His fellow Sangheili stood in the same manner as the Kig-Yar walked confidently from the installation towards the Phantoms docked there. One of the more primitive bug-like Yanme'e flew over head. Motrumee despised the Drones, nearly as much as the Jiralhanae. The Master set aside the enmities and focused on the task at hand, the simple mission was to locate and exterminate a human strike team...perfect. The newly promoted Field Master inspected his plasma pistol and his newly acquired energy lance, a perk if you will; command does have its privileges. The strike team was attempting to intercept a prisoner that was being escorted to a Covenant cruiser for interrogation. Motrumee and his men were thirsty for blood, they had just been reassigned to the front lines and they had never been so exuberant to do so...
The Phantom sped towards the outskirts of a Covenant held city and landed on a rain soaked grassy clearing. The Sangheili leapt from the drop bay following by the Kig -Yar, the Field Master activated his sword and an ice blue blade of plasma laced out from its emitters. Motrumee pointed to his second in command and motioned him to fall out to a flanking position and followed his own troops to their positions. Within several units, two Ghosts followed by a Wraith passed by, then the shadow that bore the prisoner, followed by another tank and two more of the reconnaissance vehicles. A volley of human HE projectiles, "rockets" they were called smashed into the once orderly convoy. The smoke cleared and the horror was revealed, his second squad was gone, their position overrun with human warriors, the Ghosts were destroyed, and the Wraiths not in working operation, the surviving Sangheili had formed a hastily prepared perimeter around the nearly untouched Shadow. Motrumee came to his senses and gave the order to charge. His Elites opened fire, several humans had been felled but another human warrior emerged to take their place, the human killed two Elites with something akin to ease. A third approached the newcomer but the human brought his rifle down on the skull of the Elite, the alien struck him again, and yet again, but then shot him twice. Motrumee looked at the interloper with anger, despair and fear. He drew his pistol and fired several bolts. Instead of fall as he should have, he was surrounded by a golden display of energy: personal shields. Motrumee froze. This was him, the demon, the soul human warrior he feared, and this lone soldier had killed thousands of his kind, not to mention the Grunts, Drones and Jackals. The Sangheili made a decision, kill him. His sword was raised high as the warrior sprinted forward, gripping the weapon with both hands. The human fired a sustained burst that was absorbed mostly by his shield but ultimately killed them. The human stepped inward and the flash of metal caught the Elite's eye. The knife cut through the armor and penetrated flesh. The demon recoiled and brought his pistol to bear, Motrumee tried to ignore the pain of the blade stuck in his stomach, he wondered how this human could have inflicted so much damage within seconds as he brought down his blade towards the human, the blow was on target and slowly melted through the armor, slowly...too slowly. The human's reflective visor masked any emotion, the Sangheili pushed the blade deeper into the human's side, but he dropped his sidearm and gripped the handle of the combat knife, pulling it out of the wound. Black blood spurted from the hole in the armor, Motrumee staggered, he had killed dozens of humans what made this one so different. The knife rotated and again entered his body, just below his throat, blood foamed from his open mandibles, through he pushed the blade deeper. The alien then spun and his armored elbow smashed into the Sangheili's "cheek". The warrior stumbled but regained his footing raising the pistol and managed to squeeze off several bolts. The plasma hit home, splashing against the human, and it recoiled. Victory! Thoughts of promotion and glory raced through his mind when he felt something nudge his boot...a fragmentation grenade.
Sergeant AJ Blackwell's grenade settled at the feet of the platinum clad alien warrior. Shrapnel sprayed up the Elite's back and tossed him like a rag doll several meters in the air.
Just before the explosive had detonated, Motrumee realized his error...the human stumbled backward to avoid the grenade itself...not him.
Field Officer Sola Rolazee watched in disgust as his subordinate's body was tossed high into the air and landed in a gory heap. Motrumee had been foolish to engage the human at close range, especially when the demon had allies to protect his vulnerabilities....if he had any. Rolazee squeezed off two bolts and another marine fell, but the Covenant didn't have a prayer. Armor piercing rounds cut apart the Sangheili that stood next to the Field Officer, another grenade detonated throwing several Kig-Yar across the grounds, cut to ribbons. Rolazee primed and dropped a plasma grenade and ran. The Shadow began to pull off but the armored human leapt onto the bow primed a grenade and fused it to the pilots helmet. The hapless Elite scrambled to tear the helm off when it detonated spraying bits of brains and bone throughout the cockpit.
Major Jason Salazar struggled in to cargo hold of the Shadow hearing the multiple bullets pinging off the alien metal. Though he couldn't see, he felt blood spatter on his cheek and felt his captor fall heavily on his legs. An armored hand jerked off the blindfold and offered him a help up. The Major recognized a Spartan when he saw one and gladly accepted the help. Master Chief SPARTAN 117 surrendered his own side arm handle first towards the Marine officer. Salazar gripped the handle and shot the Elite once more in the head. John exited the alien vehicle and fired a controlled burst into a Grunt who had been scrambling to hide behind a damaged Wraith tank. Sergeant Blackwell approached him, his own rifle at ease.
"Master Chief, area in the clear Sir, all Covenant forces have been eliminated, and Echo 231 is en route to our location for evac." Blackwell stated.
"Affirmative Sergeant, good work, and thank you." Salazar replied.
John looked back onto the devastated New York, its pastel outlines of flame etched sad, mournful memories of the hell that was going on inside of the city.
Pearson down shifted and the LRV caught air as it sped off a ramp of debris. The 50mm LAAG roared behind him, as Fitzgerald's scream barely was heard over the thunder of the gun, the massive projectiles streamed towards the steadily approaching Banshees. Pearson dug his heel into the pedal, begging the Warthog to go faster. Finally several rounds hit home and crippled the attack craft. The small flyer spun once, collided into a building and fluttered to the ground with a blue-white explosion. Kemp stood in the passenger seat and fired a controlled burst from his assault weapon which cut the Grunt standing on the sidewalk with a plasma grenade to Swiss cheese, neon blue blood spouted form the wounds and the alien troopers fell with a squeak. The marines were nearing the outskirts of the city now, but what awaited them is something they didn't expect. Two smaller grade Human ships hovered a few dozen miles form the city as routes of pelicans surged to their bays.
"Go, go, go!" Blackwell cried as he motioned his marines into the dropship, he could even see the Covenant cruiser gathering overhead preparing to glass the planet. The marines had never shown more effort in their lives. Luckily Blackwell and his men had achieved their mission and had rescued Major Salazar, the commander of the New York campaign. But even a larger victory as this was forgotten as the humans scrambled towards the Pelican. Their pilot, Flight Officer McCann, waited for the crew chief to call, "Good to go!" and fed fuel to his engines and the pelican load of marines jetted towards the Spartacus, a Human frigate awaiting evacuating troopers.
Pearson shifted gears and hit the brakes just as a fuel rod round hit nearby, the blast tossed the four humans like rag dolls from the devastated LRV, as the marines hit the ground running, it was fifty meters to the LZ, and they had every intention on making it there alive. The Pelicans were in sight now, and fellow marines were scuttling to their troop bays. After a harrowing run through a faulty ambush of Covenant Grunts the marines finally reached the Pelican, pulling themselves into the seats, and finding something between a sense of fear and satisfaction.
"Bravo 38 is lifting off, ETA to Spartacus is three minutes." The pilot yelled into his boom mike. "Roger that, we'll be waiting for you." Someone replied. Earth was about to be glassed and turning into just another desolate hell hole that were once called human home worlds. The human fleet had nearly called back all of its surviving Marine detachments from the surface and were preparing to jump system. The Spartacus and the Athens had gathered their Marines from the East Coast of North America and were headed back to the fleet. Ship to ship combat had ceased several days ago, now all combat had been based planet side. Thirty four human war ships, with a combined contingent of roughly eighty three hundred Marines, a formidable force indeed, though if the Covenant knew where they were going they would have dealt with them more quickly, instead of letting them run while they glassed their planet. The Humans were headed towards Installation 06, or Delta Halo. Thanks to the Covenant, the Flood had been contained in the Quarantine Zone and destroyed; they had made nearly every structure defendable and had openly declared that there were hundreds of ways to find food on the ring.
The UNSC fleet arrived at the Ring several days later, armed regiments of marines had already been to the surface and cleared any Covenant resistance. Numerous bases of operation had been established: three consisting of smaller class frigates such as the In Amber Clad that had originally discovered the ring, another in a canyon almost completely closed off, sporting one of the strange beacons and various other Forerunner buildings, the Island fortress that held the map room had been captured and fortified and finally the Control room and everything within a dozen miles of it. Halo had been captured and colonized, and Humanity had an advantage...the Covenant could never touch the Ring from space, first off seven MAC turrets had been "borrowed" from Earth, and secondly the Covenant wouldn't dare desecrate the temples of their gods, so if the humans were loosing in space, they would pull back to the surface and deploy their Marines. This was their strategy for something more than survival, but victory. But unbeknownst to the Human force, the Flood were something far from extinct...
Alright yeah theres a lot of extra stuff in there and its kinda choppy but tell me what I can fix and I'll be happy to do so.
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