((Note: This is my first story on fanfiction, I am entirely open to any and all criticism, good, bad, funny, and even outright insulting. My entire purpose is to improve my writing. I am well aware this writing is not top tier in any way, but I hope it improves over time through feedback. Thank you.))

Chapter 1:

The Beginning of the end.

December 9th 2552 1000 Hours

Lord Hood looked out from Cairo Station at the massive fleet before him, almost twice the size of the fleet that destroyed reach. The massive fleet had arrived on October 9th, and humanity was cracking under the onslaught. Hood watched as Mac rounds and plasma bursts passed each other, tearing into metal and dissipating shields. He heard screams over the communications as fires consumed the crew of once mighty warships. Hood heard the sighs of his staff as fingers typed away, reporting yet more losses. Was that all their lives would be remembered as? Numbers on digital displays?

Hood returned his mind to the tactical situation. Many ships and Orbital defense platforms had already fallen to the covenant onslaught. He had sent a detachment of three SPARTAN II, including the master chief along with two full platoons of ODSTs to attempt to assassinate truth. Only covenant propaganda showed the result. ODST and SPARTAN bodies erected on spikes, Truth now used the chief's bloodied body in his messages to demoralize earth. With their legend dead, the human forces were losing morale, ground forces were slowly being overrun, and naval forces were being decimated. Something odd was happening though, there were rumblings of in-fighting within the covenant, but whatever advantage that could give, it was too late to have an effect.

December 9th 2552 1100 Hours

ODST Connor Tyr had always found it enjoyable to fight against the odds, but this was simply ridiculous. His platoon was outnumbered ten to one against a technologically superior force, and as another soldier went down, his helmet and face melted away from plasma fire, Connor realized this wasn't ideal. They had been pinned in the city center, in a damaged police station, the previous residents of which were still laying in pieces on the ground when they came across it. They had been investigating a distress call, when they were ambushed by a covenant battalion. They had already been in this prolonged firefight for over an hour. They had inflicted numerous casualties to the covenant forces, but the hostiles showed no sign of falling back. Glass shattered near him as a plasma grenade found its home right next to Connor. He tried to dive to cover, but was caught in the blast and thrown against a nearby wall. He faded in and out of consciousness, he felt himself being dragged and saw members of his platoon firing as they fell back. When he finally gained full consciousness, he saw he was in a room with all its doors and windows barred shut. His 2ic in command rushed over to him.

"Sir, are you ok? You took a really bad hit." Connor shook his head and nodded.

"Yeah Jones, I'm good. Give me a strep."

"We were forced to fall back, after you went down, the covenant started advancing on our position. We've lost about half our combat strength, 5 KIA, 10 wounded. We need to radio for backup, or this station will be our tomb."

"Right, get me a radio Jones, ugh, and a fucking aspirin."

December 9th 2552 1200 Hours

"Utter madness." This is what Captain Zheng Yamamoto thought as he peered out the observation window of his bridge. "The UNSC wants us to hold out against these odds? The chief is dead, over half our fleet has been obliterated, and the orbital defense platforms are falling left and right. Yet they want us to keep fighting?" Of course Zheng would never fully voice his concerns, he knew it would ruin the morale of his men, so he kept his mouth shut, and continued on this suicide mission.

"Sir, the UNSC "Red October" and "Heavy Hitter" are both reporting extensive damage! They're breaking apart!" Zheng's eyes shot to life.

"Bring us about, send us right into that cruiser, main cannon, begin charge up sequence, archer pods stand by. Communications, contact the 'Yorktown V2' and the 'Midway' tell them we request assistance to bring down this cruiser. MOVE PEOPLE!"

"Sir, the Midway and Yorktown have replied, they are moving to reinforce us."

"Good, helm, send us straight down into a dive, communications, have the Midway and Yorktown fire their Mac rounds at that ugly monstrosity. Helm, once their shields are down, bring us right under that beast, main cannon and archers, prepare to fire." The engines of the three ships roared to life. The covenant cruiser fired heavy plasma cannon rounds as Zheng's frigate the "Empress" dived, avoiding one of the rounds. The midway and Yorktown took the hits directly to their hulls, causing massive explosions as chunks of metal were torn apart.

The Yorktown and midway's main cannons opened up with a massive flash, as their rounds smashed against the covenant carrier, dissipating its shields.

"Helm, raise us up, send us right underneath those sons of bitches, main cannon, archers, on my mark, open fire!" The frigate flew upward like a sea monster rising from the deep. "All forward batteries, FIRE! Main cannon, let 'em have it!" The weapons roared to life, the archers blew apart the first layers of armor as they made first contact only seconds before the MAC round tore through the center of the covenant cruiser, tearing it apart as it listed and turned into drifting debris. Zheng sat down in his chair, exhausted. "Helm, return us to formation, communications, send our gratitude to the 'Midway' and 'Yorktown'."

December 9th 2552 1200 Hours

"I always loved rough flying, but this is one for the books Mike." Stated Longsword pilot Otto 'Baron' Falke.

"Yeah, you're the one who volunteered us you maniac!" The co-pilot Michael 'Wing' Roark shouted, visibly shaking.

"Off all the pilots, I get stuck with the nut job 'Baron'."

"Stop complaining Michael, we're doing well." Otto looked outside as he saw two more longswords on his right wing fall behind his fighter in balls of fire.

"Or maybe not SO well."

Their mission had been simple, or as simple as these times called for. Their fighter wing was to escort Otto's fighter toward a covenant carrier's hangar bay, lower the hangar shields, and allow Otto to detach his nuclear payload into the carrier, and send them on their "Great Journey". As it stood, the mission was not going well, they'd lost over half their wing to covenant flak or hostile fighters, and they were barely half way to the carrier.

"Activate Naomi, Michael." "

"What? Otto, you know we're not supposed to activate her under normal circumstances."

"You call THIS normal Michael? I'm all for tough missions, but our wing is being torn apart! Now activate her so she can help get our asses out of the fire!"

Michael starred at Otto for a moment, before hitting a button, and a dark red hologram appeared. The hologram was the depiction of a woman, short, slender, and with short hair. Her clothing was a tank top with camo pants and combat boots, as well as dog tags hanging from her neck.

"What did you two IDIOTs do while I was away? Piss in a prophet's coffee?"

"Blame command, Naomi, we need your help."

"I already figured that out Otto, you know I'm not supposed to be out."

"We can put you back in your box if you'd prefer."

"Now let's not be hasty Otto, what do you need help with?"

"We need you to arm the nuke we're carrying while Michael and I help the wing out."

"Got it, arming, and get to work, I'd rather not blow up while I'm working." Naomi's depiction shifted to a burning red orb as Otto turned his attention to the growing number of Seraph fighters tailing the formation of longswords.

"Michael, you take the ventral 120s, I'll take the 110 rotaries."

"Got it Otto, we going into a spin?"

"Yep, brace!" The power to the engines was cut and the forward thrusters kicked in, causing the longsword to fall behind the advancing fighters. As the seraphs turned about to attack Otto's longsword, the longsword's cannons roared to life as they went into a 360 spin. The bullets flew in all directions, sparks shot from the Seraph armor as they were torn apart by cannon fire.

"We took the majority of them out, fire missiles and punch it." Missile pods opened and fiery tubes shot forth, finding their destination in hostile hulls, blowing the ships, and their occupants, to pieces. As the missiles made contact, the longsword shot forward, regrouping with its formation.

"Contact the formation, we're coming up on that hangar bay, we just saved their asses, I want a clean opening."

"Literally half the formation told you to fuck off, but they're moving to take down the shields."

"Ungrateful jackasses. Naomi, how's that nuke coming?"

"Cooked and ready to be served."

"Good, on my mark, detach it and start the countdown." Their fellow longswords flew ahead, firing their cannons and missiles, causing the shield to fade away. Otto's longsword cruised in and stopped in the hangar. "Welcome party is here, numerous hostiles with explosive ordinance aimed right for us. "Take the rotaries, clear out the hostile fighters so we don't have to dogfight in here, I'll take care of our hosts on the ground." The cannons thundered to life, blowing covenant forces to pieces, or turning fighters into scrap metal. "Naomi, detach! Michael, back us out, I'll cover us." The longsword slowly departed the hangar and launched back toward the UNSC naval line. The timer on the nuke ticked down to 0, as the carrier was ripped apart from the inside, vaporizing all aboard, and breaking the ship into pieces. "I'd say that was a success, you two can thank me now." "Shut up Otto!" Both Michael and Naomi shouted in unison. "Naomi, back in your box, maybe command won't notice we used you." "Yeah, good luck with that one Otto, see you losers later." Naomi disappeared as the longsword cruised forward.

December 9th 2552 1300 Hours

Spartan 099 'Bonnie'

Planet of birth: Harvest

Hair color: Red

Eye color: Green

Age: 46

Role: CQC expert.

Current mission: Save injured ODSTs from police department building.

Bonnie peaked out of the ruined car she was using as cover, searching the area for activity. Her entrance was clear, the Police department HQ across the street. She saw around eight covenant soldiers guarding it. Two elites, two brutes, two grunts, two jackals. Four of kind, now she just had to see if her hand was larger. She started to move out of cover when she saw something curious. The two brutes checked their radios, and then looked nervously at the elites. Bonnie had a feeling this was worth recording, so she turned on her helmets camera. The two brutes slowly walked up to the elites, the first brute put a spike directly through the elite's skull, the second elite drew its energy sword, impaling the first brute. The second brute then grabbed the living elite, snapping its spine over its knee, before throwing the groaning body onto the ground. The brute then took his spiker, and put three spikes into the elite's body, allowing the elite to bleed out. The grunts, panicked at this display, moved to kill the living brute, before being shot and killed by the jackals, and then being hauled off, presumably to be eaten. Bonnie ceased recording, amazed by the display she just witnessed. She had seen covenant fight before, but never straight up murder one another, and never a brute murdering an elite.

Bonnie was simply happy her path had been cleared by this lucky twist of fate. The remaining brute was quickly taken care of with her combat knife, she then proceeded inside, passing over the bodies of several ODST on her way. She collected the fallen's tags as she moved through the narrow corridor. She nervously checked every room for contact, surprisingly finding nothing. As she moved to the second level, she discovered why it was so quiet. Bodies. Mounds upon mounds, of bodies, all belonging to covenant. Elite and brute corpses lay in combat positions, impaled against walls, or simply crushed by a larger creature's heel. She stepped over the bodies, looking for any survivors or the victors. She found only a few grunts hiding in a storage closet. They were huddled and shaking, so she decided to put them out of their misery. She moved to the third level, where the distress call was coming from. Three bloodied elites and a heavily wounded brute beneath them blocked her path. She turned on her automatic translator, attempting to obtain any information from their conversation.

"You Sangheili, the prophets have favored us! They will burn you and your race to ash, and raise ours to GOD HOOD!" The wounded brute growled at the elites through a bloody mouth.

"The prophet's words are lies and tricks, you will be slaves. We are freeing you from a worse fate." The lead elite then drove his energy sword through the brute's skull, before limping back down the hall.

Bonnie ducked out of sight, before throwing a grenade down the hall way. She heard a few panicked words before the explosion rocked the floor. She peeked out again, the walls were painted blue, and parts of elites were strewn all over the floor. She moved toward the door, to the room the distress call was coming from. Bonnie opened the door to find over half a platoon of ODSTs pointing weapons at her.

"Relax boys, I'm here to help." Bonnie made sure to sound as reassuring as possible.

A wounded commander limped forward. "Names Connor, Connor Tyr, thanks for the assist, I didn't expect them to send a SPARTAN. Is the building clear?"

"Of course commander, I've radioed for a Pelican extraction, get your men ready to move."

"Understood. ODSTs, we are leaving the building, and we are not getting our deposit back."

The ODSTs limped out and entered the Pelican with the SPARTAN, taking off to fight another day.