A change in pace.
A Halo story.
Set in the time of the Fall of Reach.
Lone wolf Spartan.
Uncanon Spartan.
Was going to give name for Spartan.
But I think its better this way.
I dunno.
I own nothing.
Enjoy.
"You the spartan they sent?" The marine sergeant asked gruffly, blood evident on his armor and dirt scuffing his beat-up helmet.
"Yes sir." Spartan-383 said briskly, raising his hand up to salute sharply. "Reporting for duty sir."
The sergeant squinted his blood shot eyes at the spartan, muttering 'damn robots' under his breathe as he rounded up the remnants of his squad, the exhaustion evident on their faces. "They finally sent us our reinforcements, team. A Spartan."
A few marines grumbled their dissatisfaction of only getting one solitary spartan instead a platoon of them. The rest expressed relief and awe at the sight of the shiny-armored spartan who was scanning the area, assault rifle up to scope.
"Mission overview. Repel the Covenant forces before they reach the town of Pierce. In case some of you dumb grunts don't know what planet we're on…Reach. Planet battle overview is…" The sergeant paused to take a look at his hologram, checking its contents to see if the information was accurate. It was.
The marine sergeant believed in giving his squad the truth, instead of buttering up the current status of their situation. But this time…he wasn't sure if he could. With a heavy sigh, he bowed his head, "We're losing."
The tense atmosphere grew, every marine huffing in response. Only a handful kept their comments to themselves, preparing to sacrifice their lives for this lost planet, Reach. Guns clicking, patting of armor, the clunking of helmets resounded throughout the small camp, the ashen air clogging up their lungs.
Hope seemed lost at this point as the Spartan glanced over his shoulder at the sad pack of marines, shaking his head. He walked over to the sergeant, who was clutching a grenade, seemingly ready to throw it at the nearest enemy.
"Immediate area is clear." The Spartan reported, its voice slightly garbled by static, unable to identify the stranger's voice. The marine sergeant looked the Spartan up and down, noting how less 'bulky' he looked. And he thought that Spartans were supposed to look tough, this one looked like as if he just finished marine training. 'Too lean. How the hell are we supposed to-'
"Enemy contact." The Spartan interrupted the sergeant's thoughts, bringing his assault rifle up to fire, shooting off a few spurts at the cloaked elite. "Finish the mission sir?" In other words, time to finish the fight.
"You heard the Spartan men. Hop to it and quit yer complaining. Cover the Spartan!" At that moment, a snap hiss of an elite sword was their only warning as their small encampment area was breached by cloaked Covenant reinforcements. Plasma shots screamed past their heads, all cries of pain drowned out by the incoming fire.
Spartan-383 charged the sneaking elite, pulling the trigger repeatedly as the bullets penetrated the elite's shield, the armor standing strong. He threw his gun away, tackling the elite, his breathe hitched in his throat as a blue glow resonated. He rolled over out of instinct, the grunt's own grenade sticking instead to the angered elite, the growl escaping before it exploded.
He pulled out his combat knife, jabbing it into a nearby Grunt's oxygen tank, its hiss alerting several other grunts. The Spartan threw a frag grenade at the small collected group, using his magnum to finish off the rest.
Click. Click. A silent curse emanated from the Spartan's mouth as he switched gears and picked up a plasma rifle, his own weapons still hanging on his armored back. The purple glow shot out several times before it heated up, slightly singing his hand as he threw it at a Jackal's shield, finishing off the alien with a snap of its neck.
The marines occasionally glanced at the Spartan's actions, in totally shock that they were actually winning all because of this lone wolf Spartan. And here they thought they were going to die.
Hope raised again at the sight of the fighting Spartan, his gracefulness on the small battlefield inspiring as a loud 'Hoorah' was screamed by the marines, their fighting spirit strengthening. This small squad of battle-beaten marines accompanied by a lone Spartan were starting to become victorious in their own mission, the past report about the losing of Reach escaping their minds as the gunfire grew louder.
But alas, more Covenant appeared, the reinforcements consisting of one elite, squads of grunts, and several jackals. The marine sergeant stepped up the plate, gun at the ready, helmet lost. "Hit em marines!"
He didn't have to tell them twice as their bullets threw them off, the aliens only hissing in response. The grunts died quickly by the hands of the marines, as the jackals were taken care of by the Spartan, who was busily slashing their throats with his trusty combat knife. Blue and purple blood was scattered over his black armor, a few dots of red blood from fallen marines present on his armored back.
Just as the immediate fight was over, the sergeant counted their remaining numbers. Only a handful of marines had died, making their small number of fifteen marines to an even small number, ten. "Think that's it Sarge?" A trembling marine asked timidly, voice low.
"I don't think so." The sergeant said in a haunted tone, his eyes trained on the large crowd of Covenant fighters coming their way on foot. "Defensive formations marines!" He ordered loudly, that strange tone of his gone from his voice as he barked more orders, barely giving the Spartan a nod of acknowledgment."
He had no personal issues with this particular Spartan, only that he thinks that Spartans were here to replace the long-standing marines, instead using Spartans in place of marine ops. The Spartan ducked by a fallen wall of cement, eyeing the sergeant's actions with one eye while the other eye was trained on the vast numbers of Covenant aliens coming their way.
He was ready for them, just as the Covenant was ready for them. With a loud war cry, a bold marine threw a frag grenade at the nearing aliens, the explosion knocking the marine off his feet as the Spartan popped out of cover, spraying bullets at the jackals. The numerous squeals broke the air, three dead.
With a small grin, he kicked a frantic grunt who was running around in circles, the grunt falling over with a 'oomph'. The cry of marine caught his attention as he diverted his path over to the marines, focused on protecting them at the moment. He pulled the trigger on his assault rifle, only reward with a silent click.
In a swift movement, he jerked the rifle up the elite's jaw, eliciting a loud pop and the elite fell dead. More screams penetrated the air, the trembling marine from earlier gripping his sides as the elite sword struck him.
They were down to three marines.
Yanking his BR55 battle rifle off his back, he sprayed more bullets at the growling elite, catching his attention. The elite swiveled his head over to the Spartan, walking over the dead marine's body as he activated his sword, the sword puncturing another marine's chest.
One sergeant. One Spartan. One elite.
At that moment, the sergeant intervened, firing his own assault rifle at the elite. The Spartan was about to bark at him to take cover but the elite was already charging toward the sergeant. The Spartan dug down his heel, prepared to sprint over to the sergeant's aid.
The light breeze flowing past the Spartan's head as he extended his legs to run faster, the elite about to stab the marine, but he stopped him if only at the last second. A grunt emanated from the Spartan's mouth, blood droplets spilling from the corner of his mouth as he threw himself in front the marine, taking the death blow.
The Spartan's blue eyes grew wide, the pain strengthening when the elite pushed his sword in deeper, a small whimper escaping his lips. The sergeant stood there, watching as the elite chuckled lowly, bringing his hand up against the Spartan's neck. The elite released the Spartan's helmet, keeping his helmet as a trophy. He mouthed three words, the shortest of flashbacks coming to mind.
"Stay alive out there. Swear?" The fellow spartan held out his hand, his clean green armor shining in the dim glow of the lights.
Spartan-383 grinned impishly under the helmet, shaking hands tightly. "I solemnly swear…"
The Spartan turned out to be a she.
The elite quickly ended the life of the marine sergeant, who had barely caught a glimpse of the true Spartan's face, and growled at the still barely alive human. The elite jabbed his foot onto her neck, the Spartan mumbling her last words.
"I solemnly swear…"