I don't own Halo, obviously, or any of the characters Bungie or Eric Nylund created. I only own Spartan-113 and Spartan-116. So, enjoy.
A secret faction of Spartan-III's has been made. Not even their sponsor, Colonel Ackerson, knows about this special elite unit. Made decades after the first, little known Spartan-III's were launched, they had no margin of error. For years they had been worked, chiseled into as fine warriors as the legendary second assemblage of Spartans. Now, half a decade after they had been set loose on the enemy, the alien menace, the covenant, only two remain; the best and most efficient two-man group of their time. With their teamwork and still flaring attitudes, a trait unknown in Spartans, they might just turn the tide of this war.
Spartan-116 leapt from the cliff as the mine exploded. She hit the ground hard, but still managed to roll and absorb some of the impact. Her shield bar fluttered, setting off the audible alarm. The crack of a sniper rifle was heard as her partner, Spartan-113 took out whatever Covenant reinforcements were left.
At the bottom of this crevice lay the other half of the two-man team. He was leaning against a boulder, rifle aimed at a 45 degree angle. It still smoldered at the barrel.
When 116's threat indicator was clear, she stood up. She could see her shield bar had refilled itself. A moment later, 113 got up and joined her.
They said nothing, for they did not want to give away their position by using the COM. 116 signaled for her comrade to follow her deeper into the cavern.
These two Spartans had been on this planet for three days, after their ride had been destroyed en route to the surface. They had landed hard, and already had injuries even before they started their mission. Spartan-113 walked with a limp. He had fractured a bone in his right leg, but didn't complain much after the first contacts had been spotted. Even with the disadvantage, 113 kept his number of kills almost equal to his superior, Spartan-116.
Spartan-113 was one of the best snipers 116 had ever seen. She believed his prowess was in the same league of the Spartan-II's Linda, known for deadly accuracy. Of all the Spartan-III's, their secret with the secret group, 113 was elite.
There was no envy from Spartan-116. She never liked those rifles anyway. If she could, she would always go up close and personal with the Covenant bastards that had killed her brothers and sisters. The assault rifle and pistol was her best weapons combination; however, she was known to use Covenant plasma rifles if she had the chance.
This collection of races, called the Covenant by human forces, was responsible for killing millions in only a few decades time. World after world they had glassed, for no known reason. These two remaining Spartan-III's had no love for them.
The cavern in which they walked now was sealed off from the land above. With their enhanced sense, they were able to navigate efficiently. 116's threat indicator was clear. No new contacts meant that they could regroup and pick the next course of action.
She rose her hand, indicating 113 to stop. 116 looked around, making positive that there were no enemies, and finally sat down on the ground. Spartan-113 joined her.
"How many round do you have left in that thing?" she asked over the COM.
"Enough for now." he stated simply. Spartan-113 opened the cartridge of the rifle and reloaded. "How about you? You go through ammo like water."
"I'm not so great." She pulled out her assault rifle, and shoved a new clip of ammunition into the gun. "Only a few more left. I should have stolen a plasma rifle when I had the opportunity."
"Then you would've been killed by that mine you triggered." Spartan-113 replied, checking his sidearm.
"Hey, did I say I stole it?" 116 shot back, pulling another weapon out. It had crystalline needles jutting out of the top of it. She made the age-old Spartan "smile" gesture, "I did grab this though."
"Did anyone ever tell you you're crazy?" He asked and put a hand to his helmet and sighed.
"Only you, my friend. No one's talked to us like this for a long time." She said with happiness, although the truth hurt them both.
Even after the officials at ONI had perfected the process of training Spartans, their squad was still dead. It seemed hope was lost; the years had taken their toll.
This particular group of Spartan-III's had been born at their training facility; warriors since birth. At this stage, they were biochemically enhanced, making them faster and smarter. Seventeen infants had died in this process: their bodies did not take to the chemicals. When they were mere toddlers, their soldier-in-training were worked with coordination exercises, teamwork challenges, and muscle drills. Trainers allowed them little rest.
As soon as they were able to walk, they were taught to evade. The lessons came endlessly, in either tactics or basic creative-thinking skills. When the children were four years of age, the physical training began.
Always in two to five man teams, they were thrown into the wilderness, taught to survive and flourish. Their weapons training came a year later. Every kind of gun, Covenant or otherwise, was open to them, and they were told to be proficient in every one of them. These two factors were honed until the age of ten.
Even at this stage, their appearances looked older than what they should have been. Their faces showed the features of fourteen year olds, even though they hadn't hit puberty. They would not get that chance. The chemicals they had been enhanced with suppressed hormones, giving them a clear head to fight. They were then introduced with miniature suits of MJOLNIR armor, and sent against active Marines, each unit using live rounds.
This first mission was a success. The Spartan-III group was then shipped off to their first Covenant-human battle. This, again, was a flawless victory.
But, as the Covenant grew wary of these new kinds of "Demons," they sent more and more reinforcements to each battle. Even these super-soldiers could not stand twelve to one odds.
As the years went on, the group slowly lost cohesion. Only a few exceptional Spartans, this team including 113 and 116, stayed together. This weakness was exploited to the fullest on a planet called Zephyr, named for its eternal westward winds. The Covenant set highly explosive mines all over the planet. The special group that retained its strength warned the others about the plan, but the rash actions of their teammates had destroyed them all.
There were five Spartans left from that mission, all from the group that saw the trap coming. This team was called "Bushi" a Japanese term for warrior.
Team Bushi was the epiphany of power for the human side of the war, even though their presence was never really leaked. They had helped win multiple planetary battles, not losing any of this tightly-formed group.
But then a tragedy as horrendous as the Zephyr slaughter occurred.
On a world called Vulcan, there were huge military bases. Although not as favored as Reach, it was still used as a prime repair and shield planet. For reasons still unknown, the Covenant came with one of the largest fleets ever seen by humankind.
Three Spartans were killed. Devastating, but the remaining two were able to escape before the planet was destroyed; they were reassigned at the last moment.
That was four years ago.
And they still felt the pain.
They sat in silence for minutes, cleaning and rechecking their weapons. There was no estimate on when evac would arrive to extract them.
The mission was to defend a highly classified facility, or, if failing to do so, collect its data so the Covenant could not get to it. After their Pelican drop ship was destroyed, it was abundantly clear that the latter action would have to be performed. They had found the structure, rooted out the alien soldiers, and extracted the crucial files. A high powered explosive was used to level the grounds.
Two days passed and no reinforcements had been sent.