Once more, this fic is just a test, so please, R&R. If my reviews are even slightly positive (remember, this is rushed quality by my standards) then I'll start my own series at once.
Stray winds scattered the ashes through the bloodied streets of New Byzantium. Patrol Phantoms glided above the streets, searchlights shining. Covenant Battlecruisers dominated the skies, their mighty profiles blotting out the sun. Or would've been blotting out the sun: for now, and perhaps forever, the skies were covered in a roiling shroud of black and grey clouds. Maybe tomorrow there wouldn't even be any atmosphere. These trivial facts were ignored, as a pair of armored hands carefully clawed themselves from the rubble. Soon enough, the full, battered profile of PFC David Lowell slowly emerged, submachine gun in hand. Seeing as to how he wasn't already impaled by a volley of spikes, he assumed the area was safe.
He was almost correct.
Lowell slowly emerged onto the streets, which were unsurprisingly strewn with rubble and overturned cars. He looked up to the sky, and saw the hovering profiles of Covenant vessels, absently, though ominously casting their shadows over New Byzantium. One might wonder why the vast Covenant armada hadn't already incinerated the surface of Strabos IV, a tiny, insignificant colony of just under 3 Million. Lowell, however, didn't wonder.
He knew perfectly well why.
The reason was strapped to his right leg.
The pristine data crystal he carried was a stark contrast to his battered armor, and his bruised body. He didn't know what wealth of information it carried, but he did know that it was important enough for the ONI brass to send an entire platoon of helljumpers after it. He had seen how well they fought, with the skill and coordination that could almost rival the blue elites. However, not even the best of the best could stand up against the overwhelming Covenant juggernaut. He had no idea what a damn rookie like him was doing tagging along with this mission, he was no ODST. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing in the Marine Corps, he should've stayed at home, and got a girl, and got a nice desk job at an office. Now, he was at risk of losing everything, his friends, his parents, his home.
His Eliza.
Damn it!
These thoughts were shoved aside as the drone of a Phantom's gravity drive grew louder, basic training and survival instincts overpowering his emotions. Lowell hurried into a nearby office building when the Phantom's profile emerged from beyond the street. He crouched behind a pillar, readying his equipment in case. He dared not reveal his head, lest there be a door gunner. The humming gradually got louder, and then descended slowly. Soon however, the noise remained constant: the phantom had stopped. Shit.
The phantom lowered its gravity lift, out which came six grunts, and two larger aliens. Not those split chin freaks, but the new ones, Baby Kongs. Not much for honor he had heard, just for meat. That made his job considerably harder. One wore heavy, greenish gold armor and carried a brute shot on his back, while the second was of lesser stature, and poorly armored. They were conversing rather loudly, while the grunts absentmindedly paced around. Lowell was surprisingly sufficient in the Covenant Common language, and he didn't have listen in close to understand their conversation.
"The foul human stench pervades in this area!" The superior growled. "Find the mindless beast, and bring him to us for interrogation!" Lowell saw that coming.
"Pugnatus, surely we can spare a human or two for our bellies". The other one moaned. "For days I have gone without the taste of fresh human."
Pugnatus lunged forward and cuffed the other one in the shoulder, who staggered back. "Shut your trap, Ebrius! Your incompetence shames your clan name!"
Pugnatus retreated towards the gravity lift, and before stepped in, he turned to address Ebrius, who was nursing his shoulder. "Prove to me that today's performance was not a prelude of failures to come." Lowell gulped. Apparently, that meant that there were other Marines in the city, and he had missed them. For about the thousandth time in a week, he cursed his luck.
Pugnatus stepped in, and vanished into the belly of the craft, which glided away. Ebrius whirled around and began to order his grunts. "Find it, you maggots!" He spat. "Spread out!" The grunts wordlessly complied.
Lowell quickly observed his predicament, and then that of his enemies. He had probably picked the worst piece of cover that there was available. There were strewn cars and busses behind him, and plenty of desks inside the office building, but no, he had to pick a pillar. A damned pillar. He knew that they would find him eventually, and that if he ran out now, he would be cut down by their combined fire. He needed to attack first, the element of surprise. Thankfully he had just the perfect weapon for that.
He briefly rummaged through his pockets, and produced a single plasma grenade. He emerged from beyond the pillar, and activated the runes on the alien weapon. The sudden movement and the telltale beep attracted a lot of attention, but before Ebrius could raise his spike rifle, the plasma grenade flew straight into his face, announcing his demise with a cheerful beep. The Jiralhanae howled in rage and pain, and made an attempt to remove the grenade from his face, but all he managed to do was attach his melted paws to the searing blue orb.
The grenade detonated, blasting a curtain of blue energy through the air. Wasting no time, Lowell lobbed a flash grenade into the nearest cluster of three disoriented grunts. These specific flash grenades had little effect on humans; however for these aliens the opposite was true. The flash grenades stunned them for seven seconds, which was more than enough for Lowell to tear them to shreds with his submachine gun. The other three grunts were now vividly aware of their predicament, and turned around to fire on his position while seeking cover. Lowell made the error peeking from beyond his cover, and narrowly avoided a green plasma bolt to the face. Gathering himself, Lowell dashed for the nearest piece of cover, which was an overturned truck.
As he ran, several bolts of plasma burned into his armor and skin, which made Lowell cry out in pain. However, he managed to make it to cover, and his armor was miraculously holding itself together. He clutched his side, and poured in a canister of biofoam. It did nothing to ease the pain, but it was necessary. Lowell popped up, and fired on another grunt, easily tearing through his weak armor and flesh, before dodging another volley of plasma. He raised the muzzle of his gun above his head and pointed it at the remaining grunts, with the intention of laying down suppressing fire, but the gun clacked empty. Wasting no time, he reattached his submachine gun to the magnetic straps on his thighs, and exchanged it for a loaded sidearm. With trained efficiency, he whirled out of cover and let loose three shots from his gun, as emerald plasma burned through the air around him. The first shot two shots went wide, but it took less than a second for him to adjust his aim, and the last round turned the grunts skull into a hideously unrecognizable mess. The remaining alien warrior stopped firing, and turned to flee, demonstrating the comical cowardice that was so typical for his race. Lowell took careful aim towards the aliens' gas tank, and carefully pulled the trigger. The high-explosive round slammed into the flammable container, igniting it and sent the diminutive alien flying.
The last grunt cried out in pain, and Lowell exhaled. He made a pretty good account of himself, but his performance was the not at the top of his mind. He slowly turned toward Ebrius' corpse, where his radio was still active, and crackling with activity.
"Ebrius, you worthless swine!" Raged Pugnatus through the radio. "Answer me, or I will come over there!"
Lowell decided that it wouldn't be long before the Covenant figured out that Ebrius was, in fact, dead and send a search party after him. If they caught him, it was over. He had to run. Gathering his energy once more, he sprinted frantically through the street, in the direction that he had assumed was away from the Covenant. He sprinted for another three blocks, before his injuries caught up with him. He clutched at his side, and collapsed to one knee in the middle of the street. In the distance, he heard the wine of the approaching phantom, this time noting it's predatory movement, as apposed to a regular patrol. He tried, desperately to get to his feet, but all he accomplished was to further incite the burning pain in his side. The sweeping searchlights of the phantom eventually caught on to him, and the alien gravity drive slowed slowed down to a steady hover, directly above him. Lowell stared unblinkingly, defiantly into the lights of the phantom. After what seemed like an eternity, the gravity lift descended, and out came Pugnatus, along with what seemed like another half dozen brutes. Pugnatus was almost twice his regular height, and from Lowell's current perspective, he was a towering monster. Still, he stared into his eyes defiantly, his shaking hands reaching for his combat knife. In reality, Lowell was fighting hard not to piss his pants.
Pugnatus chuckled at the mere humans futile gesture of self-defense, and handed his heavy brute shot to a nearby brute. As he approached Lowell, the Jiralhanae cracked his knuckles and spoke with an arrogant tone that Lowell knew all too well.
"Cooperate with me human, and your death will not be too painful. Hopefully." Pugnatus chided.
Lowell stared upwards, gritting his teeth. His combat knife was know fully unsheathed. "You can try, but I'm not telling you covies scumbags shit. Understand?" Lowell stated, with hatred and contempt dripping from his tongue. Pugnatus did very little to hide his amusement.
"Don't think that because you slew that incompetent, Ebrius, that are capable of opposing our entire pack. If offer you a simple choice, human. "
Lowell hardly blinked. "Maybe you simple minded Covies are too arrogant to understand. You can make me scream, but you wont make me sing."
Seeing the humans' clear defiance, Pugnatus decided to switch his tactics. He pulled out his spike rifles, the two massive blades glistening in whatever light there was. Lowell gulped, his true fear just starting to show. Without warning, Pugnatus abandoned his calm gait and savagely brought down the two blades upon his neck, stopping just before they made contact. Pugnatus brought his massive, armored face before Lowell's, and spoke in a gritty yet firm, and thoroughly intimidating tone.
"Don't flatter yourself human, It's not your life that I value." Pugnatus pressed the blades ever so gently into the humans soft flesh. "It is your information. I will ask you one more time." Pugnatus's eyes burned through Lowell's with a fiery gaze. Lowell, unblinkingly returned the gaze, and spat into his face. Lowell didn't exactly expect what happened next to happen, and he certainly didn't wish it. The brute recoiled back, wiping his helmet with unconcealed disgust. His face now burned with an unconcealed rage. Spitting on one's face was the greatest insult a Jiralhanae could receive, and from a human?
"You...insolent! Pest!" Pugnatus gripped his spike rifle once more, and strode toward Lowell with a heavily incensed gait. As he neared him , he raised his spiker's blades into the air, and roared so loud that Lowell, and a few Jiralhanae had to cover their ears. In a savage motion, Pugnatus swung down his spiker upon Lowell, when suddenly-
-Bang!
After a sudden burst of sound, and an equally sudden burst of light, a whirling, 14.5x114 mm round cut through the air at over 3550 feet per second. When Pugnatus's spiker had gone halfway, his head was unceremoniously disintegrated, along with part of his chest. Lowell narrowly dodged the falling rifle. Before Lowell had even managed to turn around, another three brutes were already taken out by two other snipers, apparently at ground level. The remaining three gathered into cover, and sprayed their spikers in the general direction of the shot. However, their enemies were peerless marksmen, and it wasn't long before they had taken down another two who had exposed their heads for a little bit too long. The remaining brute, keenly aware of his predicament seemed to remember the true purpose of his mission. He whirled around, and pointed his spiker at Lowell. However, he was only greeted by the buisness end of a human magnum. Lowell emptied an entire magazine into the brute, before he staggered back and collapsed into a pool of purple blood. He exhaled once more: two near scrapes with death, and the only result was the slaughter of his enemies!
The biofoam had finally done it's job, and Lowell was able to stand again, albeit slowly and with much pain. He staggered slowly towards the source of the shots, hands in the air, expecting his extraction. This was not to be so. Before he could even move 5 metres, a marksman resighted his rifle, and fired. Much to his shock and despair, Lowell received a sniper bullet to his stomach, and collapsed to the ground. Perhaps out of mercy, perhaps out of the wish to ensure the completeness of his mission, the marksman cut the bleed-out short with another bullet to the head.
At the far end of the street, the marksman calmly evaluated his work, before deciding to radio in.
"Mirage 3-5 actual, this is Mirage 3-4. Target is down and package is ready for extraction."
"Roger that, proceed to LZ 24-99 for extraction to the UNSC Prometheus, over."
Hearing his instructions, he set his radio aside, and prepared to move out.