A single structure sat in the very epicenter of the valley's descent, standing tall amongst the immense redwoods of the area. As the dense foliage grew closer to the compound, the effects of battle became apparent; singed earth, burning trees, and varying degrees of bent and broken bodies littered the area.
Monotonous and gray, one would believe the U.N.S.C. Comm Array Beta-Hotel to be nothing more than an office building, boredom practically pouring out of its concrete. However, its appearance disguised a dependence of communication of the outpost, its maintenance a necessity for transmitting messages into further parts of space and, more importantly, Earth.
Perhaps that's why so many marines had forfeited their lives in its defense. Perhaps that's why the Covenant had made such a push for it, almost swarming the entire place with infantry.
What had once been a hastily-created exterior defense perimeter had been demolished. The whir of mini-gun fire tore through the commonly silent midday in the valley, accompanied by the battering of plinking bullet shells on paved ground. The screams of the fallen echoed the torment and violence breaking through the once peaceful place, oblivious of how idyllic it may have once been. Sandbags and bodies alike were splayed out on the main entrance, its staircase made sloppy with the blood and gore of mixed species. A single doorway had provided entrance to the battered building; now, it was covered to the brim in sandbags, Covenant bodies, and empty brass casings. Triple barrels stuck out of a small slit in the defenses, sunlight glinting menacingly off of their shiny coating. Gurgling with copious amounts of static, a radio was relaying information on the Pelican sent to evac the civilian workers from the facility, all air-capable vehicles already grounded from the previous attacks.
"Bravo-Hotel, Pelican inbound, E.T.A. five minutes."
Another three squads of Grunts attempted a straight charge for the emplacement, hoping to overwhelm the gunner within by sheer numbers alone. Wild barks and curses emerged from the huddled mass of meatshields, their heavy feet clamoring for a proper purchase amongst the slippery steps.
A small chuckle came from the machine gun nest as a new volley of fire flew their way, tearing the first few to shreds. Severed limbs and eviscerated corpses impeded the charge's advance, almost holding them at a standstill.
"Fire, fire!"
One of the sad creatures screamed out angrily, overpowering the sounds of gun fire and feral screams of death with its scratchy voice. Plasma rounds collided pathetically against both walls and sandbags alike, doing nothing to penetrate the barricade. The last of the blitz died with a pathetic moan of defeat, only to be silenced with a particularly unmerciful blast to the chest.
Inside the nest, the sole survivor of Charlie Company drummed his fingers against the massive gun's handles, anxiety almost pouring off of him. Issued with prime hygiene and maintenance, his armor was now littered with grime and blood, giving him a menacing appearance. Tally marks lined his entire left arm plate, his tour of duty having forced his hands into action a great many times. His helmet clung around his head, almost an entire half of it missing. Plasma scoring marked the broken edges of the helmet, brown hair sticking out from the absence of cover. His visor had been shattered, revealing one of his deep, brown eyes. It was focused attentively ahead, regarding all subtle movement with complete hostility. Mouth pulled back into toothy grin, the marine began firing the machine gun again, a fresh wave of Grunts heading an assault.
"Bring it, you little bastards!" he shrieked from his emplacement as lead chewed apart flesh and armor indiscriminately, bringing an end to the futile charge. The last few shouts and screams died away nonchalantly, like an Alzheimer victim trailing off of a conversation topic. Complete silence dominated the valley, a welcome return for its regular denizens.
Sgt. Jacob Heinwitz twitched absently at the gunner position, a lack of action forcing a fidgety unease through his body. Anger blasted through him in every vein and artery, coursing through him as easily as blood. It took all self-control still within his vengeful body to burst from cover and murder every last Covenant his bare goddamn hands. Only priorities prevented him from pursuing his crazed bloodlust, the last of the civilians scheduled for the emergency off-world evacuation.
The Pelican was already ten minutes late.
Some dickhead, probably forgetting something as simple as a goddamn preparation step, costed me the lives of my friends...
Resentful thoughts flew through Jacob's head a high speeds, blame pointing an accusing finger at everyone.
Henry won't be able to tell his little girl he loves her again, just because some Poped-up religious fanatics think we don't deserve to live!
Why can't ONI spend the extra grand in investing towards a long range broadcasting system?
Seriously, global warming. If—
A distant, mechanical hum echoed from the skies above Jacob, his attentive ears grasping at the noise apprehensively. Considering the low visibility a machine gun nest grants a soldier, his grasp of the situation was minimal at best, though assumptions could be made.
Pelican finally arrived. 'Bout time.
With little left to do, and most of the Covenant already fled, Jacob quickly dismounted the turret, turning for the long hall behind him. As he began to jog down the length of the building for the helipad, a menacing noise forced him to a sudden halt.
Hollow and menacing, an intense thud and whir that deeply resembled a fuel rod cannon rang in his ears, base instincts and reactions taking over his judgment. The Covenant had regrouped their main forces, the earlier routing doing little to dissuade them from pushing the current offensive. Now, they were enforced with several heavy weapons, all of them focused on the Pelican. Sliding into a crouch, Sgt. Heinwitz grabbed at the turret once again, the familiar grip almost welcoming his touch. Even though their parting had been brief, the turret hadn't taken it very well. His mind quickly pondered over what he was doing, throwing several ideas around.
Screw it; I'm sure they'll make it. They're just a couple of fuel rods. What's the worst that could happen?
Hmmm, maybe that isn't such a good idea. But they're leaving now! I don't have enough time to take them all out and make it to the helipad on the roof!
…
Well, I guess I won't be making it at all.
His mind now making the crucial decision of martyrdom, Jacob began to fire.
Round after round immediately began to shred through the Covenant ranks, targeting the heavy weapon wielders more than anything. Jacob clenched his teeth together brutally; a love for vengeance embraced whatever had once been common sense. The Pelican had landed, that was sure. However, it was all the way on the other side of the facility. Tide after tide of foot soldiers swarmed the building, Jacob's rapid fire fending them off with great ease. As the light plinking of used rounds hitting the ground became silent, the Pelican's thruster engines were already becoming scarcer, to the point of almost incoherence.
Jacob let out a heavy sigh, exhausting almost taking physical form as the air left his mouth. His heart was leaden in his chest, sadness grasping at all angles at it. The machine gun whirred uselessly, its depleted ammo strewn across the hall's floor so thoroughly it was nigh impossible to see bare linoleum anymore. Now, lacking a main objective or course of action to take, the Covenant focused their remaining men on Jacob. The last heavy weapon they had, a disheartened grunt with a fuel rod cannon, fired four shots directly at the nest.
Sandbags, concrete chunks, and brass shells flew everywhere. A thick, grey mist of rubble surrounded the entrance, the remaining Covenant slowly closing in. Two and a half squads of grunts, three jackals, and a half dozen Elites were all that remained of the ground strike force, their comrades strewn liberally about the battle field. Tension was dense in the air, threatening to crush any of them at any time as they closed in on the menacing cloud.
Just as that poor grunt with the cannon closed in, quite an unfortunate event transpired. What appeared to be the smelted remains of a turret flew out, the immense green blur catching him directly in the chest. The hideous protrusion his mother might have called a face contorted in agony, he flew backwards, blood and methane from torn vessels spraying haphazardly in the air.
Wiping the looks of sheer horror off of their faces, the remaining Covenant blasted into the hazy mist, hoping their plasma and needles would hit home. Finally dissipating, the mist revealed nothing they hadn't known about beforehand; all they could see were corpses and destroyed barricades. A few of them stepped back in confusion, their morale already shredded into pieces. It didn't help when a blood-soaked marine burst from a particularly large heap of bodies, his assault rifle reports mixing with an almost feral scream. Half of the remaining grunts dropped dead as Jacob blasted a jackal in the face… with his fist. Taking the stunned and most likely dead creature about the waist, he began to use its shield against its own teammates, their retaliation slowed from shock. With the barrel sticking out from behind the improvised cover, Jacob picked off the targets with an ease that spoke of a morbid sort of love for battle.
More grunts dropped, leaving only a duo of panicked cowards, their plasma pistols discarded for waving their hands about maniacally. The Elites regrouped, a stark individual standing amongst them shouting out what must have been orders. It stood a good half of a foot shorter than the rest of them, though it was proportionately different, and its armor was marked with the contours of an advanced officer. Perhaps it was just fat.
By this point, the jackal's shield had already worn out. Jacob heedlessly threw the disgusting, eviscerated corpse at the gaggle of Elites, reloading in the time it would take for a normal man to blink. The gore caught the larger ones off guard, but the shorter one ducked beneath it and dashed at Jacob. Up close, the thing was a sight to behold.
The deep golden hue emanating from its armor was so brilliant it almost hurt Jacob's eyes. The armor seemed to compliment every variation, protrusion, and curve, clinging to them with a security that promised full protection. Not a single singe, scratch, nor scar marred its appearance, the pristine condition speaking of a combat life without a single scored hit. Covering most of the neck and head area, its helmet made sure to allow free movement of its mandibles. Its eyes were covered by common glass plates, tinted an abyssal black color. The armor seemed to split off at the shoulders, coming down in a V-like formation before rejoining at the mid-chest level as it exposed its deep blue skin. The thing's immense, round muscles almost threatened to burst out of it, the sheer power almost enough to intimidate the berserk space marine. Sections of a black jumpsuit were obvious, the armor being separated into many pieces, such as the down-curving pauldrons and thick bracers. Almost nothing covered the leg area, the jumpsuit visible due to how the armor wrapped around the groin and showed most of the thigh. Even then, the skin-tight fiber stopped only a couple of inches after the end of the abdomen area. Most of its leg was showing, the lack of armor compensated by easy, unhindered mobility.
Jacobs blinked quickly, his focus broken for a split second. There was a lapse in thought as a strange shudder shook through him, a feeling completely unknown to him. Was it… fear? Fear of this strange, powerful-looking warrior that was charging straight at him, the familiar whoosh of an energy sword powering up coming from it as it unsheathed the deadly thi—
Oh shit!
Jacob quickly ducked inward to the left, her high horizontal swing obviously meaning to quickly decapitate him almost completing its task. His hairs stood on end, the parry grazing the edges of its shielding boundaries as he ended up at where its back should have originally been.
The armor split into the familiar V-shape of the front, exposing more of its flesh as it clang readily to its back. A few more sections were removed systematically and symmetrically, little jumpsuit available that would cover its bare skin. The exposed areas of its flesh were brilliant, almost glistening in the high noon sun as light danced across bright, blue skin. A slight thought of sapphires ran through Jacob's head, the precious gems having no competition with how radiant and dazzling the skin happened to be.
Once again, Jacob found his mind wandering, that familiar unfamiliar feeling blasting straight through his body, almost staggeringly debilitating. It tingled in the slightest, leaving a hesitant reaction in his arms. It was strange, being unable to fight off these unsure instincts that he had never before encountered. Why now? Why when he was just about to die, either of the Covenant or emaciation and abandonment? It couldn't possibly be fear. Never was there a thing that could strike fear into the heart of Jacob, and there never would be.
Now's not the time. Jacob centered his attention once again on the fight, though a miniscule sliver of thought remained on his consciousness about the esoteric feelings and the strange Elite in front of him.
Only a glance; the thing was already reacting.
Almost a blur of blue and gold, the Elite spun, bringing the sword downwards in an overhead vertical strike. Jacob did a short dash to the right, let out a short burst of returning fire. The thing's shields flickered faintly, have little effect on the reinforced technology. The Elite quickly feinted in towards Jacob's right, then pulled back and went in with an upwards diagonal backhand slash. Quick on his feet, he went to dodge the feint, his improper perception of its moves causing a massive score across his chestplate as he leaned away to dodge what he could of the lethal swing.
More sparks and bullets flew from the barrel of the assault rifle, the Elite's shields showing the telltale signs of the first stages of dissipation. Jacob began a fast backpedal as it charged heedlessly at him. A short burst of joy flowed through Jacob as the last of its shields dispersed, leaving the Elite's defense reliant on the overly-decorative armor and parrying abilities. He went to let out a burst fire on the weakened Elite, when he stopped.
He just couldn't pull the damn trigger.
C'mon, you piece of shit! Why now?
A sneer flashed across his face as the Elite closed distance, unleashing a flurry of slashed meant for his arms. With reflexes heightened beyond their ordinary threshold from rage and adrenaline, Jacob easily held pace with the lightening-quick cuts. Pulling its arm back to finish with a powerful stab, the Elite left itself open for a moment too long. Jacob took a swift backstep and raised his rifle to attempt another volley, but was surprised from the fact that it all he lifted up was a mangled grip and stock. A sigh of near resignation came from him as he threw what was left of the assault rifle at the Elite, catching it off-balance. It raised its sword to deftly deflect the pathetic attack, but was caught squarely in the gut by the Jacob's shoulder. He threw every ounce of his weight into flooring the Covenant bastard, and by God it worked! The alien thing hit the ground, a miserable grunt coming from its mandibles. Gauntleted hand cracking against the concrete floor, its sword slipped out of its grasp, skittering across the ground like a skipping stone on a lake. The surprisingly smooth yet plain helmet made a cracking sound as it fully made contact with the hard ground.
Ha! It even sounds like a little bitch! He briefly thought as he jumped on it, pinning the thing with his weight as he drew his combat knife. Holding the knife downwards with both hands gripped about the handle, Jacob brought the blade up above his head. With a motion that practically described retribution, he slammed the weapon towards its head.
Almost in a flash, the Elite's hands grabbed the marine by his wrists, stopping the blow inches above its head. In its debilitated state, there was no way it could fend off Jacob forever. With a risky plan in mind, the Covenant made its move, taking one hand off of its defensive grapple and brutally uppercutting him in the gut.
Nothing left to hinder the blade but a weakened arm, the knife sank into the base of the helmet near the neck. Jacob, gripping onto the handle like a dead man's hand, received the punch to the stomach. A sickening crunch was heard as he was blown back by the sheer force of desperation that came from. However, it wasn't the snapping of bone in his abdomen that caused the noise, he realized as he got back on his feet, a good couple of yards away from the Elite.
The knife, still keeping its vigil in Jacob's hand, ripped forward through the helmet, taking advantage of its cracked instability from its brutal landing. With nothing to hold it in place, the helmet had shattered on its head, falling off in a shower of broken alloy. Jacob, now confronted face to face with his enemy, released a short exhalation of air, somewhat a combination of a gasp and a hiss.
She was beautiful.
For a species of lifeform whose culture and standards were completely unknown to him, Jacob knew that she was one of the – no, she WAS – the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Her head was shapely and curved in a way that made her look like a goddess. Her mandibles, once marking the sign of the enemy and their vast differences, were pulled back in anger. However, to Jacob, it didn't matter. They were doubly better than the most gorgeous of models' silicone-filled lips. What really got him were her eyes. The way they glared at him wasn't even a factor in the way he appraised them. Brimming with intelligence, feelings, and appeal, her gorgeous and vibrant green irises sat like a tropical island amidst a still but frothing sea of infinite splendor. In that last moment, what little will Jacob had left to fight melted, becoming nothing but a heap of what it once was. His hand snapped open, letting the knife hit the ground with a small pang. It reverberated about the valley, breaking the silence within Jacob's own mind.
A slight look of confusion ran across her face, probably trying to decipher the meaning as to why he had dropped his own weapon. The way her mouth turned from sneer to frown, her eyes echoing the same feeling…
She's even lovelier when she doesn't look pissed… Jacob weakly thought, his knees beginning to grow feeble as severe exhaustion caught up with him.
Taking the chance that Jacob's lapse of fighting spirit (and sanity) may be a trap, the Covenant lunged towards him, clearing the large gap in two leaps while she reared her fist back. She launched it outwards, unleashing it with such an explosive ferocity that when it came in contact with his head, it shattered what had been left of his helmet. Knocked off of his feet by the blow, Jacob landed roughly on his back, his vision slowly blurring and growing dark. A cool, wet feeling ran down the side of his temple. Perhaps it was just sweat, or maybe it was blood.
I don't care anymore. I don't think I could ever care about myself again, Jacob thought slowly to himself, the looming visage coming clearer as she neared his downed form. That new feeling ran up his back again, but left an awkward, cold feeling in his chest. Just as she pulled her fist back for another strike, he finally managed to deduce what had suddenly decided to plague his mind with hesitation and distraction. As the blow landed on his head, covering the rest of his hindered vision, unconsciousness began to take him. Even as the deep void of the comatose state began to claim him, he was swimming in this new feeling, embracing it as a fish would water.
He was in love.