SPARTAN-A206
Codename: Dorado
Leader of Fireteam WHISP
Darkness on either side, reverberating my heavy breathing. I heard muffled voices, as if rooms apart, through my helmet. Maybe my helmet is deactivated?
I try reaching for the manual power-on but I find that my hands are binded by some incredibly strong material. I could only assume they had made some sort of metal alloy strong enough to resist SPARTAN strength.
I heard a muffled "He's awake" from somebody whose voice I couldn't recognize. I was suddenly aware of something hitting my head, and then my HUD came back on. A string of lights that allowed me to see through my faceplate lit up, giving me vision again.
I was met by my other four squadmates. SPARTAN-D006, our sniper and codenamed Bolt, SPARTAN-B401, a demo expert that went by the name Blast, and then our SPARTAN-D071, a tech-related addition that had joined just a month ago and had taken the name Circuit. I glanced back to the SPARTAN-IV that we had been commanded to take with us. So far, our team had not taken a liking to her, as we were all weathered SPARTAN-III veterans who earned our armor. She was just some ONI brat who had simply been given the highly-advanced MJOLNIR.
"Thank god you're awake," I heard Circuit's voice over my private COMMs. "I second that," I agreed flatly, looking around.
Surprisingly, my binds hadn't been a super-strong alloy. Or metal at all. They were leather binds treated with some sort of chemical that made them stone, and also the fact that my arms were put in a position where it was extremely hard to actually put pressure on them. "Don't try to break them – you'll just piss off the guard," Bolt nodded his head towards my left.
I looked that way and was astonished to see a man of muscular physique wearing Roman-era-resembling armor. There was a leather chest piece and skirt, along with a red undershirt and hide helmet. Now that I had taken a look at my surroundings, I saw that this wasn't the mega-metropolis we had been operating in seemingly a few moments prior. We were on a medieval-looking, rough stone path bordered on one side by a thick veil of foliage, primarily spruce and conifer trees. On the other, a sheer rock face rose up into the sky. The sun was rising just above the trees, giving off a pale, grey morning light. It gave us all a ghostly quality, as if we weren't really there. Especially Blast, since his armor had the paint chipped off so frequently that he had decided to leave it at its original, shiny chrome coat, but with the occasional scuff and dirt here and there. His black visor reflected my own helmet.
I gazed at the front and back, seeing that we were in a line of other carts carrying people in binds. Some looked normal, while others looked… odd.
I glanced at the top right of my HUD, seeing that I still had all my weapons – battle rifle, SOCOM magnum, plasma blade and all.
"Why did they leave us our weapons?..." I murmured to myself more than anyone. "They all seem fairly… rustic, would be the right word, I suppose, and probably wouldn't recognize a gun as a weapon," reasoned the SPARTAN-IV, who had decided to use her name of Lily. "Fair enough," I heard Blast grunt grudgingly over the COMMs. "We are a team," I responded sternly, "We will work together until we get out of this runt."
I stared intently at Blast, since he had a track record of defying a few orders. But at least I could still rely on him to get some orders done. Blast stared back into my faceplate, my helmet being mirrored in his 'face', challengingly. After what felt like several moments, he nodded begrudgingly, flexing his hand.
"Good," I responded flatly, "Now to get to why we were captured."
I turned on my external speakers, allowing the guard to hear me. "Why are we here?" I grunted out the question in a voice that told the man I wasn't messing around. The guard jumped slightly, as if not expecting to speak. He slowly turned to me. "Thalmor's orders," he responded simply. The man didn't seem very threatening, and seemed to be in his mid-twenties. If this person had been in the UNSC, he'd still be considered cannon-fodder.
"And who is this… Thalmor?" I inquired, hoping that this obviously unexperienced soldier would leak info. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but quickly shut it. "That's on a need-to-know basis," he said smugly, turning back to the path. "Damn it…" I heard Circuit curse, her voice carrying over the COMMs.
A medieval castle wannabe came into view as we took a sharp turn in the path, the carts ahead of us going right into a huge archway entrance. "This is the end!" I heard someone in the cart behind us wail in dismay. I highly doubted that they would have any technology that could actually manage to go through our shields, the thick armor plated, and then our reinforced under suits. Highly.
We finally rolled down to a sort of dirt parking lot, where all the carts stopped in a line, with all the passengers in binds jumping off. Some were looking defiant and had to be pushed off, while others trudged out of it as if their feet weighed a ton.
There were multiple people wearing the same armor, making me guess that this was an organized military group. Para-military groups don't usually have standardized uniforms, and even if they do, they're all customized to a degree. These were all plain, leather outfits. "Damn Empire. They love their damn lists," I heard a man spat in the demounted line to my left.
I glanced over, seeing four men in uniform blue and leather outfits and one that was in what seemed to be medieval rags, furthering reinforcing my theory that we had traveled back in the past. "We're all gonna die!" the man in rags wailed desperately. "Die with some honor, thief," hissed a man behind the person in rags. "All right!" a female voice called out, "Line up at the chopping block!"
"You first!" she pointed an arm straight at me. She had fully steel armor with a fully metal helm that closely resembled the helmets of the ancient Greek Spartans. I quickly formulated a plan to get out. I nodded and acted as if I was dreading my death, which if I actually were to die, I wouldn't be afraid. I obeyed and got on my knees, thankful that my weapons had been left on my back.
I felt the woman's boot on my back, pushing me onto the block. I followed the example, my muscles already tense beneath the armor as to what came next. "On my mark, I want you to take out the ones in red and leather and steel armor, no civilians or the ones in blue, got it?" I whispered into the group private COMM. On my HUD, I saw four green lights. I activated my helmet's rear camera, and saw that a man in a black hood was about to chop off my head. I had to be patient, though, or else the plan wouldn't work. The man swung, but I had quickly flipped onto my back and directed the slash at my bindings, effectively cutting my free. The man was stunned for a second that I had been so bold, and I took this second to knee the axe handle into his face. "Mark!" I exclaimed through my external speakers. Immediately, my squadmates sprang into action.
Blast used his binded hands to strangle two people, while Circuit and Bolt both worked as a pair to get through multiple guards. The ones in blue chasses caught on, and roared a defiant war cry, as they, too, imitated my squadmates' fighting styles.
I reached onto my back, grabbing my battle rifle. I quickly aimed it at some archers that were using bows on the stone walls, firing three bursts and effectively taking down three of them. "Get over here!" I shouted at my squadmates. Blast ran up to me, holding out his hands. I nodded and activated my prototype plasma blade, slashing through the bindings and making a clean incision. Blast thanked me in his signature gravelly and bass voice.
He grabbed the minigun he carried on his back and opened fire, unleashing a torrent of bullets on the poor groups of leather-armored men.
I glanced back at Bolt and Circuit, seeing them fighting individually with freed hands. I guessed that either they had grabbed a weapon from one of the dead men and cut themselves loose, or one of our 'allies' did it for them.
I heard a roar of anger from behind me, turning to see a heavily-armored man wearing similar armor to the leather-armored guards, running at me with a steel battle axe. He had managed to gain significant ground on me, leaving me with too little time to raise my gun and be able to fire at his weak points. With no other choice, I quickly snap the rifle onto my back, and cross my arms a split second before the man charged at me.
I had managed to lower myself a bit so that my armor clashed against the bit of the grip underneath the head of the battle axe, so I wouldn't have my shields damaged. I had to admit – this guy was strong. "And here we have a battle of two alpha males, struggling to assert dominance," I heard Bolt over the COMMs dramatically, using his British accent. "Oh, shut up," I snapped, letting the man pull backwards and swing at me. I ducked, the axe flying an inch over my head, then jumped up, kicking the axe forward. This threw the man off balance, giving me time to grab my SOCOM and fire multiple rounds into the enemy's throat, effectively killing him.
After a second, I had realized that the fight had stopped. There were no more sounds of gun fire, or cries of pain and gasps of death. Only heavy panting and grunting. I glanced backwards, seeing that the men in blue armor, along with my squadmates and the SPARTAN-IV, had cornered the remaining enemy forces. There were only ten to fifteen left, while there were twenty to thirty of the blue men.
I walked over, stomping on the ground with my heavy MJOLNIR to make myself look even more imposing, with my sleek armor coated in blood and dirt. The leather-armored men cowered as I approached, and I even saw one or two of our 'allies' flinch.
"If we let you go," I growled, "Will you leave your posts and continue you your lives as civilians?"
They all seemed very, very eager. A chorus of agreement came from the surrounded opponents. "Then let them go," I looked at the blue men. "Are you sure, be-" started a blonde. "I said let them go," I responded curtly, "there would be no point in killing them now. They are defeated. We only fight to win – not to murder."
Some of them looked hesitant, but lowered their weapons reluctantly, allowing the defeated group to walk freely. "Thank you…" one of them said to me, "I was forced into service." I nodded at him, silently thanking the heavens that I had decided to spare this group.
A brown-haired blue-armored man came up to me, holding his weapon down. "We will sing you and your compatriots' praises in the halls of Sovnguarde!" he exclaimed, an uproar of agreement coming from the armed blue-chassed men. "Come fight with the Stormcloaks. You are somebody who is not afraid to get their hands dirty, and we need men like you," grinned the man. I glanced at my squadmates, my gaze lingering on the SPARTAN-IV. "We will see in due time. My squad and I need to access the UNSC. Do you know of any outposts?" I asked, hoping that there was any sort of modern technology here. "UNSC? I don't know anything about whoever that is, but the only authority here is Ulfric Stormcloak, and that traitorous Emperor!" the man hissed the last part. Piecing together what he said, I assumed that this was some guerilla rebellion.
"And what has the Emperor done to you?" I asked carefully. The man looked at me as if I was a Sangheili singing a pop song. "They have robbed us of our lands, taken our jobs, and broken millennia-old traditions!" the man growled bitterly. Unlike the UNSC, this 'Emperor' truly seemed like a tyrant. The Insurrectionists were simply extremists.
"Do you have any place to stay?" the man asked. Circuit walked up next to me. Even though Circuit was short by SPARTAN-III standard, she still stood in front of the man with a good three inches up her sleeve. "No – do you have any idea where we could stay and settle down for a bit?" she asked without my consent. "Well… there is the Grandroot Inn not far from here, and they have rooms big enough for eight people…" he murmured thoughtfully. "Great," I could practically image Circuit smiling beneath her helmet, "How far is it?"
"About three kilometers south," responded the man. We were tired, but we would have to make the trek, "Great…"
Suddenly, a nearly inconceivable sound reached my ears. It was so faint that I almost thought that I had imagined it. But I couldn't have, since I saw Circuit and Blast visibly perk up at the same instant. "What?" asked Bolt, oblivious to the sound. I glanced up at the mountains bordering the town. It had sounded like some sort of roar.
I looked at one mountaintop, barely distinguishing a shape against the snowy peak. It was massive, flying towards us. It was… a dragon?
AN: So, with this story, I will actually be serious with the plot. And this chapter is proof, since I am fully aware that I don't have the best track record with Halo/Skyrim crossovers… ouch.
