Chapter One

Breaking The Third Wall

It was just one of those days. Wake up in the morning, do some physical training, aliens invade. Almost like a check-list. Sad, that it was as easy as it sounded too. Of all the places that could have been attacked by the Covenant, and on that very day – my birthday – it was Earth.

The thought wouldn't leave my mind. I was in complete disbelief. Hell, everyone was. Earth, the homeworld of humanity, was under attack, by the foes that the UNSC could not defeat. I knew that everyone on this world was dead. How couldn't they be? There were twelve billion people on Earth, a few hundred million of which were navy or, more numerically, marines and army, I included somewhere in there.

That meant that there were a few hundred million set to die – once again, I included – but about eleven or so billion left. There was no way the navy could evacuate that many people. Where would they even go? The colonies? There were barely any left, and no doubt the Covenant would get a hold of their positions now; there was simply too much data on Earth for it all to be destroyed.

This really was it: from here on out, it would be the final blows of destruction against humanity. Earth would fall, so would the other colonies, and any survivors left would be stuck on half-boiled worlds left to scrounge the dirt for plants to eat.

Complete genocide.

I had read about World War Two once, a war on Earth six hundred years ago. There was attempted genocide on an ethnicity, but the good guys stepped in and saved the day. Unfortunately, we were both the ethnicity and the good guys in this modern scenario. And that meant we would fail.

I actually cried as I sat there on that pelican. Earth wasn't my home; no that was long gone now. But Earth was the last stand for me and humanity. After this, humanity would be expunged and then fade. I would die. That last thought hit me harder than the others, probably a self-preservation mechanism, telling me to run. Yes, I would die here.

I wasn't even embarrassed about the crying. A few others did, even Big Cheese. A little tear rolled down from his eye, into his neckline. If Big Cheese was afraid, we all should have been. We all were. It stung a little to know that after every life sacrificed in the war, keeping humanity going, it was all to end like this.

End like what? Why did it have to end one way or another? If I was to die, why not take a few out with me? Looking up from the floor, I held onto my rifle proper, checking the clip, testing the safety. If I was to die, I'd go out with a bang. Preferably whilst having a last stand on a pile of dead aliens, holding onto a flag with one hand and screaming at the top of my lungs. Yeah. I actually smiled at the thought, whilst still maintaining a few stubborn tears. There was a way to go.

Big Cheese saw the smile – actually, it was more a curve of the lips in a somewhat pained expression – and nodded his head grimly towards me. Did he think I accepted death or something also as noble? Well, I kind of did. I would die here. We all would.

Oh no, there it was again: that small voice telling me just to desert the moment we hit the ground; to save myself in some way or another.

And again, I repressed it. This time with cold logic. There simply was no escape. No one knew how bad or good (an unlikely scenario, but it was Earth that was being defended now) it was in space as of now, which meant that most likely there would be very little chance to get off world. And if it came down to hoofing it, eventually the Covenant would send entire invasion forces and not just small armies as they were doing now. And eventually, even if all of that ground fighting was survived . . .

Glassing.

That would be the fate of Earth.

The pelican touched down and we came out running. As expected, nothing here yet. Considering our quarry, that would not last long.

I turned around whilst still standing on the landing platform. All around me was an incredible vista of scenery: a cluster of skyscrapers here and there, many different eras of architecture (everything from a thousand years ago to now) represented in the smaller buildings, a cold-looking river with a docked wet-navy aircraft carrier. In the distance, jets of all sorts, military and civilian alike, were taking off and landing at the massive international and interplanetary skyport. And it was freezing.

Of all the places we were assigned to protect, it was one of the coldest as of today (though thankfully not snowing as usual): Glasgow, Scotland.

Where in specific was a whole other thing. I was currently stood on one of the many landing platforms of the Acheron Security headquarters. It was a big ugly building this. It was very narrow and triangular, a kilometre and a half tall (did I mention that I hate heights?) , dull grey, and had windows only on one face of it. The rest was mix of who-knows-what resistant metals and construction materials. It ruined the skyline for me.

I felt a hand slap my shoulder. "Hey, Rain, get going." It was Ken, one of the less likeable soldiers in my squad. And the one who coined my nickname of Rain – which I hated. He told me the day that I got accepted as the replacement was like when a rain cloud blanketed much of Sterling during a rare sunny day. I didn't know where Stirling was, but it sounded like a dreary place. Not that Britain ever had nice weather anyway.

So that was the story of how my nickname 'Rain Cloud' (further shortened to Rain) came to be, from a complete scumbag. Of all the people I could have been put in a squad with . . . it was Ken.

Instead of acknowledging him with a reply, I shoved by him, and he took step behind me, wordless. Good. Maybe he was finally getting the idea that I didn't like him, or that stupid nickname that everyone seemed so happy about using. Really, what was wrong with Jessica, or Jenny, or Benson, or even just Private?

Why was the world so unjus- ooof! Two soldiers carrying a crate between them smacked into me and kept going before I could even harass them. Seemed like things were in a rush. Of course they were. This was the home of many UNSC weapons' designers, both of existing ones and supposedly rumoured new ones, as well as ships. It would be silly not to attack a high value target like this, really. And all that the marines needed to do was keep the aliens at bay long enough for the scientists to get out with their prototypes and designs. There were even a few veteran marines, like me. Easy enough, right?

Wrong. 'Veteran marine' meant nothing, I had to admit. It just meant you were experienced at getting your ass kicked and living, like me, and unlike so many unlucky others. Things were also just never easy. Undoubtedly, the Covenant would bring a lot of air support with them (and I appreciated a lack of windows all of a sudden). Therefore, holding the courtyard would be a nightmare, and so would the atrium due to it being on ground level. Then would come all the corridor fighting. Neither I nor any other marine ever looked forward to that prospect.

Close spaces, sharp corners, dark spaces . . . a real nightmare.

Actually, I didn't know where I was going. Were there any wall signs? I looked for Ken, but nothing except frantic workers and busy marines was in my eyesight. Of course he would just leave me as I walked around without a clue of the path, engrossed in my own thoughts. Scumbag.

I tried to approach one of the workers, who obviously would know where to go, but he simply ignored me and continued running to and fro around the current well lit corridor frantically and typing away at computer panels in the walls. Scientists.

I had to give it to Acheron though. They may not have had many windows, but this place sure was lit well. Though if those lights went off, which was bound to happen at some point . . . Elites. I did not want to fight one of them. I had never had the opportunity, and I intended to keep it that way.

So instead of eggheads, I tried jarheads. And I got a different reply, though I'm not sure it was better.

"Uhm, excuse me?" I began. He looked up from setting up a turret behind some boxes packed with foam. He looked at me like I was crazy. Hell, he looked half-crazed, though I didn't blame him with the given scenario. "Where'd Casanova report to?"

"How the fuck'd I know, ya prick?" Ah, the Glaswegian dialect and accent. So elegant. I hated it. In my two years on Earth, I had learned to hate like never before. "Fuck off," he finished. Yeah, I missed being a nice farmer with a not-fancy, not-annoying accent. I still had my own accent, but no farm or family. Hell, no colony even – though that was Earth talk. My colony was my World. And my World was gone.

So, with a general idea of the locals' demeanour, I tried radio, though I knew it would not work. I was not disappointed. It was a complete mess – the local comms were filled with so much nonsense simply due to the amount of people using it, and there was too little organisation in the networks to grant each squad personal communications. Trying to switch to normal squad talk gained massive interference in my ear and nothing else.

I understood why though – command was organising the entirety of communications for hundreds of millions of soldiers and hundreds of ships to communicate correctly. Everything was simply a mess until it could be sorted. And right now, squad comms seemed to matter little; after all, a squad should stick together right? Right, that's why I'll go find my squad and-

More bumping about. Two more marines walked briskly by and then stood at a wall mounted computer, one of them beginning to type at it; I, ever the little sneak, as I had learnt to be on the farm, listened to their conversation inconspicuously.

"Man, d'you hear Acheron's got some weird shit going in in the basement?"

"Like what?"

"Some techie was talking about alien artefacts or something; which is weird, right, 'cause the Covies don't have artefacts, just guns and ships."

"So, artefacts are 'weird shit' now?"

"I heard they're doing weird shit to them is the point. Plus, 'pparently, they're not Covenant."

"But you said alien artefacts."

"Well, 'pparently, not Covenant, may-"

At that point, fate, or more specifically, supervisors, intervened and gave the marines a lecture on discussing things they shouldn't know about. I happened to be very interested. Possibly non-Covenant alien artefacts. Could there have been another race out there, maybe one that didn't like the Covenant, or maybe one just like humanity, or-

My earpiece crackled into life of its own accord. The universe loved interrupting me. A gruff and old sounding man spoke through. "Alright everyone, this is it. Covenant dropships inbound to Acheron now. Recapping orders: Casanova company, keep them in the courtyard as long as you can then fall back; Hypotonic, keep them out of the window-side, hit every alien that comes through those windows; Fiction, keep hold of the landing platforms so we can evac people and tech when the time comes. We've got five minutes 'til we kick some asses! Good luck soldiers, Colonel Partridge out."

So . . . the courtyard. Lucky me. Lucky Casanova company. That was sure to be a dangerous place. Though there were a lot of soldiers in this building. Six hundred marines and some dedicated Acheron security, though their prowess was in some doubt.

Jogging to find an elevator, I heard a little ping over the noise of everything else and a monotonous alert.

"Blast shutters on all windows now closing." Simple enough to understand. Now, where was that elevator? Ah, there it was.

And then there it wasn't. Seriously, why was the ground in my face? And why did I sting? Or maybe my face was in the ground. It was. I looked up from the – carpeted – ground and saw where there once was wall was now a hole into the cold outside. A scorpion main-battle-tank sized hole. That wasn't there before. There were also dead bodies laying scattered around it, filled with shrapnel. I could even see the floors above. Wow, this building was confusing. I thought I had been close to the middle, but I was actually closer to the wall.

Wait, did I just glaze over dead bodies? Yeas, I did, and I was glazing over that massive alien starship just sitting over the river, a burning aircraft carrier underneath it. Holy shit, it had just shot at me, and I had survived. Whilst I was overjoyed, that same voice began to scream at me to run, just like earlier. But hell, where could I run to anyway? Outside?

Crap. I was supposed to be defending the courtyard. I tried to quickly check the radio whilst reaching out for my rife and crawling around a corner, out of side of the gaping hole. I tapped it a few times and got nothing. What the hell? Oh, right, EMP from plasma explosion. I checked my gun, a new battle rifle BR85 heavy barrel, made by Misriah (and here I was in Acheron – traitor), and it too had a darkened display. I didn't even have smart goggles to begin with.

Great.

So what did I do? Obviously, the elevator would be down. The EMP would have a larger range than just me of course, so the elevator was probably down. I could walk down the stairs, but how long would that take when I was about eight hundred metres up? Or, I could stay here, and defend this hole, which actually wasn't aimed for me, and probably for opening up a new hole to drop troops through. Damn, that ship was probably going to keep opening up the building, wasn't it?

As if on cue, the building shook again and I heard metal screech away and fall past the nearby hole. Yeah, Fiction company was going to have a hell of a time.

And as I heard the whine of a Covenant dropship approach the hole, I realised I was in for a hell of a time too.

Run run run run run run run -

I stopped the voice in my head, and instead rested my head on my weapon, bringing my knees up so my head and gun could rest on them. I was the only person up here, and therefore, it fell upon me to keep the aliens busy. Great. Just great.

"I get all the good jobs," I whispered to myself, before removing the safety of my rifle.

AN:

First off, I have nothing against Glasgow, though the character does. As it's a first person story, everything said is from Rain's perspective, and so is her thought. Seriously, I do actually like Glasgow in real life.

I've decided not to really describe the character of Rain either, aesthetically anyway. She is yours to imagine as you wish, I shall not impose a defining design upon your own minds. Though I'm setting this story to utilise marine amour as seen in Halo 3 and Halo: Landfall. I don't know, I think it suits Halo better than the Halo 4 marine armour, which frankly looked a little ridiculous in my opinion.

Next update expected in a couple of weeks or so (bit of a busy time in my life), around the same length at minimum, though probably more. And more shooting. Lots more. And that horror tag is for later.

Anyway, until next time wasteland, this is Alice's Moon, aaaoooooowwww! Bringing you the story, no matter how bad it hurts.

And yes. That was a Fallout reference.

Disclaimer: Halo belongs to 343 Industries and Microsoft Game Studios; Mass Effect belongs to Bioware and Electronic Arts. This story is intended for non-profit use.