HEY THERE! So! I'm Microzombie and I've decided to try my hand at a Halo fanfiction. It's my first time so be gentle./strong/p
If you follow my other stories I apologize. I've been working on them, but this is something I've had stewing for a long time. There's a few more that I'm going to post. I just can't seem to work without these stories, especially this one, coming to you're new...WELCOME. I'll tell you the same thing I tell everyone else. I welcome criticism. Flame will result in a very stern glare at my screen since I can't do anything to you. Perhaps one day...ANYWAY!Here's the story.

I DON'T OWN HALO!

0730 Hours

Lance Corporal Miranda Palmer

Outskirts of New Tenochtitlan, Azteca

14 February, 2547

A Wraith's plasma mortar impacted around fifty meters away, outlining several troopers of the 506th ODST battalion against the ground. The cloudless night made it easier to spot the purple orbs arcing through the sky, and it was that much easier to dodge them. I turned my head away and got lower in my shallow foxhole, trying to dig it deeper than puddle depth with the top half of an Elite's helmet.

What?

They made good entrenching tools in a pinch. And the dried blood added character…ok I just realized how that sounded. I'm not psychotic...at all. I'm just...enthusiastic you could say. But then I guess you could also say that nearly every Marine is enthusiastic when it comes to filling Covies full of holes.

"Dig faster Cracker!"

I turned and glared at the other Helljumper in the foxhole.

"You wanna take a turn Juice than be my guest! It's kind of hard to see when my visor is cracked."

And it was. Holy shit, but was my visor cracked. A spiderweb ran across the entire left side.

"So take it off!"

"I'd rather be half-blind than take shrapnel to the back of my head."

"Fair enough."

Damn right it was fair.

I sure as hell didn't ask to get stuck outside a city digging a foxhole with a dead alien's helmet...well actually I did, but I was uneducated when I made the choice. Totally not my fault. I blame teenage hormones. I was angry when I went infantry after all.

Screw it. Doesn't matter, I'm here now, and I can't change that.

So! Instead of continuing the arguement with my battle buddy I went back to digging a deeper hole in the rock hard permafrost that made up Azteca's mountains until the platoon sergeant's voice rang out over the com net.

"Eyes up Helljumpers! Second platoon has xenos in sight! We're gonna remind these fuckers that artillery doesn't scare the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers! Am I right Marines?!"

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!" forty voices responded at once.

"Mhm...damn right I am." The NCO sounded pleased when he signed off the net. I put down my makeshift shovel and retrieved my M392 DMR from my back. I aimed it downrange and focused it on a pair of rocks that were a likely spot for a Jackal recce squad to pop up. Juice came and lay next to me with his SRS99-AM.

We lay quiet for several moments.

"I got movement." Juice sent me a NAV marker and I shifted my view to it. Two Jackals bearing Carbines were standing on a cliff.

"El-tee, I've got two Jackals on the right flank. Looks like a recon team. Want me and Juice to take'em?"

There was a pause before my platoon leader responded.

"Go ahead, Cracker, but try and use your DMR. I don't want Juice revealing his position until he has to."

"Roger." A feral grin accompanied the reply and I shifted in the foxhole to a better firing position. Juice scampered to the right to allow me more room.

"I'm taking the one of the right first. If I don't get the one on the left leave him. He isn't worth revealing your position."

Juice's acknowledgement light flashed.

I balanced my rifle on a rock and practiced shifting between the aliens a couple times. I slowly let out my breath as my crosshairs settled on the Jackal's neck. I slowly put pressure on the trigger, and I saw the Jackal's head snap backwards before I heard and felt my rifle's report. I quickly shifted my aim to the left, and fired two rounds into the other Jackal's chest.

As if on cue a hundred Grunts and a quarter that of Brutes leapt from behind rocks and charged our lines.

"Light'em up!" the platoon leader's voice rang out and, in unison, the UNSC lines exploded into noise. A Scorpion tank entrenched on the ridge behind the infantry's lines boomed out a report and the 105mm high explosive round splattered a couple Grunts and sent around a dozen flying.

"Designated Marksman and Snipers! Prioritize officers!"

I shifted my aim off of a Grunt and instead sent three rounds into a Brute's head making him fall over. The ape probably wasn't dead, they were stubborn that way, but he was out of commission. I shifted my aim to a Chieftain and was about to pull the trigger on him when his head exploded and he fell to a white vapor trail.

"Fucking hell Juice! You could have let me have that one!" I snapped as I reloaded. I could hear the smirk in the sniper's voice.

"We're still in competition Cracker. Can't let ya get ahead."

I growled as I rebalanced my rifle on the edge of my foxhole and continuing contributing to the laying waste of the alien banzai charge.

"Alright. DMRs go after Jackals and weapons teams. Snipers keep nailing the officers." Lieutenant Nietzsche's voice came through my radio.

I flashed my acknowledgement light and turned my fire on a Grunt running forward with a Fuel Rod Cannon. His head snapped backwards as my bullet passed through it and he fell forward. Unfortunately for his comrades his hand hit the trigger of the weapon, and the explosion took out two Brutes along with an entire lance of Grunts.

"Those don't count! The Grunt killed them!" Juice shouted as he took the hat off a Brute captain.

"They totally do! He just gets an assist!" I shouted back as I smiled at the banter. Even as I killed two Jackals and another Grunt with a Fuel Rod Cannon the weapons fire began tapering off. Several hundred bodies lay in front of Foxtrot Company and we hadn't even had to call Shortswords for air support. I began to feel very proud of myself.

"Well done Helljumpers. We taught'em what happens when you fuck with the UNS-urk!" The Gunny's voice was cut off by a wet grunt of pain.

"Gunny?!"

"Gunnery Sergeant?!"

" 7 Foxtrot 2-2 do you copy?" the El-tee's voice came through the radio along with those of several other troopers'.

Even as I was about to send a radio call of my own I caught movement behind Juice. My eyes widened and I pulled my M6S and extended my arm towards the blur.

Juice's eyes widened as he seemed to realize something as well, and even as I fired four 12.7mm rounds into the head of the cloaked Elite, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Juice was swinging around his big rifle when I felt something enter my body through my lower back. I was lifted off the ground, and looked down to catch the end of an Elite's Energy Sword being removed from my abdomen.

I fell to the ground on my side.

'Weird...I thought it'd hurt to be stabbed by one of those things...' I idly thought as Juice fired four 14.5mm rounds into a target I couldn't see. He swung his rifle onto his back as the rest of the line exploded into gunfire as my fellow Helljumpers engaged the enemy infiltrators. Juice kneeled next to me and pulled off my battered helmet. I looked up at the night sky as black began encroaching on my vision.

'Funny...I've spent a lot of time up there, but I've never noticed how beautiful it all is before...' were my last thoughts as a Corpsman slid to a stop next to me and unconsciousness overtook me.

I'm afraid that I'm pretty new at writing combat scenes, so I'd appreciate a quick review. I realize that there wasn't much there to go on...don't expect a badass battle scene worthy of Two Steps From Hell. If you want something like that I highly recommend "The Life" by Casquis. If you haven't read it yet, drop EVERYTHING, and go read it. NOW. I DEMAND IT! Are you still here? Seriously...you're missing out...ok...um...if you're still here I guess you deserve a prize...OH! Here's the next chapter! You can have this!