"NO! I said DIE ALREADY!" Raged noble 6, as another elite popped out from behind a rock, with a sword in hand. 6 fired a wave of green plasma at him, and the White armored elites shields popped. The elite spat at 6, before charging, blade in hand. 6 caught the elites wrist, and guided the blade away from his body, bringing his own knife up through the throat of the elite, and recharging his shields from the elites wasted energy core.
"I'm glad that ONI finally gave us a good bit of armor..."
"Good? What are you talking about? This armor doesn't recharge its shields, except when you steal the energy from a different source!"
"Exactly. You know me and my knife. We love to get in close"
"You're crazy. That armor will get you killed one day."
6 smiled at the thought, at how often this armor had saved his life, and how often 132 got into close quarters, and wished she had his armor. The point was moot now. She died from having no shields, and picking a fight with a hunter. The Hunter itself lay dead on the dust of reach. Now just a hollow shell.
6 pulled away from the now dead elite, and saw several more come out of the dust. They were still coming? Suddenly, exhausted, 6 wished that he didn't have to keep fighting, that he could just... die.
"Spartans never die. We just go missing in action. Ever hear about Kurt?"
Kurt. One of the few Spartans to come home.
His thought were interrupted again, as another elite came charging, with a pair of plasma rifles in hand, firing as it ran. 6 dodged behind the rock, and waited for the Elite. As it came around, 6 jammed the overloaded plasma pistol into its face, breaking the shields with a punch, and glassing the creatures head. He dropped it, he was pretty sure it was out of charge right now, before grabbing a plasma grenade from off the elites belt, priming it, dropping it, and running. The yell of death, and surprise from the elites behind him was satisfying.
A grunt was shooting at him from on top of one of the buildings, firing away at him with a fuel rod cannon. 6 dropped and rolled, as a wash of bright green plasma impacted behind him, blowing up the rock he had just used as cover. 6 glanced towards the grunt, pulled out his sidearm, and pulsed the trigger lightly. The grunts mask fell away from where the head had been, and the body was sent tumbling over from the force of the blow.
"They do this. Send the Elites in first, then waves of grunts, with the elites hiding behind them. Guess they learned more from Thermophile than we did."
More grunts came charging out of the dust, and this time, a Wraith came in from behind. 6 sprinted forwards, grabbing a grunt by its head, throwing it at the others, while taking its pistol, and then leaping on top of thew wraith. It hit the ground from his weight, before the Anti-grav pad stabilized. In the time it took to do so, the elite that was gunner had a head full of mush, and the driver was dead from plasma. 6 tore the driver out and dropped into the seat, pulling out one of his special toys. It was an AI that linked to his armor, and allowed him to drive the vehicle from the gunner's seat, while firing. A neat trick, but nowhere near as good as having another Spartan shoot while he drove. Still, it got the job done.
As he plowed into an elite with the tank, he heard a phantom fly over head, presumably to drop more troops. He had a wicked idea, and drove to right under the phantom, even as it disgorged more troops, 6 had leaped up, barely catching the lip of the phantom, receiving quite a few shots from plasma rifles for his troubles. He climbed in, and ripped the pilots door open, before slicing the grunts head off with his knife.
The phantom pulled away from the fight, as 6 recalled one of the standing mission directives for him. It was ONI, and his orders were to attempt to capture a Covenant star-ship. They had until now been uncompleted.
But now he had a phantom.
Still, he needed a bit of rest. 8 days of non-stop fighting, countless injuries. He needed to catch a break.
"Rest when you're dead marines!"
But for now, he would keep going.