Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or anything about it. Except my OC(s). Because I can.
This is my very first attempt at writing any fanfiction but TMNT-based! Please leave some reviews so I know how I'm doing. I apologize for the slow start, but I wanted to introduce the main players. Also, to Kimjel – who else would be a protagonist but the Covenant! I'm getting there. Just had to have my fun first.
Chapter 2: A Dry Run
John ducked, warded off another blow, and struck towards Kelly's midsection. She flowed out of the way and tackled him; they rolled off down the garage, sparring silently. James and Linda were watching, ready to offer suggestions and critiques. It was a common practice between the Spartans; they couldn't spar against any non-augmented humans, and not many humans could follow their actions when they were moving quickly.
Suddenly, the door behind Linda opened; all four Spartans turned quickly to see who had invaded their garage. Kate was standing in the doorway, apparently unfazed at seeing them in the flesh.
John and Kelly separated, rose to their feet fluidly, and snapped off crisp salutes just a fraction of a second behind James and Linda. John wasn't sure if Mrs. Ubrood had any military rank – she hadn't been introduced with one – but it was hard not to salute anyone with as much authority in her tone.
"At ease," she said, walking into the room. No one else was with her. "It's time to try it again. We've brought up some Marines this time, for the action shots. Hopefully, we won't have a repeat of yesterday."
John nodded briskly and motioned for his Spartans to begin preparing their armor.
"Do you mind if I stay to watch?" Kate asked John quietly, walking towards him.
"No, ma'am, so long as you are comfortable," John responded. He glanced at his team for confirmation, but they were not bothered, either. The technicians who would normally help them into and out of their armor had seen them naked before anyway, and they did not understand modesty.
John waited for his team to begin, offering to help each one with putting on the heavier pieces – they were sometimes awkward to handle if one was doing it by oneself. Once the rest of his team was suited up, John stepped into his quickly. He was more practiced in donning his armor solo than James, Linda, or Kelly, but it took ten minutes.
"Incredible," Kate breathed as each Spartan locked their helmet in place. John's suit hissed as it pressurized and the HUD glowed to life.
"Alright, follow me. Have you all had breakfast?" Kate led the Spartans out; each had to duck to get through the door, but in the hallways, they were able to walk comfortably.
"Yes, ma'am," John replied for all of them.
They descended to C Deck and went back into the large filming room. The crew was milling about, same as yesterday, but were joined now by half a dozen battle-worn Marines. John noticed that the cuts and bruises they appeared to sport were just more make-up, but it was difficult to tell.
The Marines saluted him and the Spartans, and they returned the salute. Relations between the two groups were indifferent, at best, but Marines were more apt to be grateful if a Spartan hauled their asses from the fire.
"Snap to, everyone!" Kate called out, clapping her hands once. The Marines and Spartans gathered just off-set, in two groups. The film crews picked up cameras, microphones, and other equipment, settling it on their shoulders or into hip carriers. "Alright, you, Marines, up to your posts."
Apparently, they'd been briefed before because each Marine marched into place easily. One was carrying a fake arm, bloodied at the stump. He placed it near himself and lay down as though he was dead, hiding his perfectly good arm under his body. It looked like the limb had been blown off.
"Remember to bite those blood packs," Kate instructed, turning to the Spartans. "You four will be rescuing these poor, unfortunate souls." John nodded in understanding. "Since you'd crush our robotic Hunter, we'll have to leave him out of this until we get a better idea of how to build him so you won't."
"Solid steel might work," a Marine said teasingly. He gave the Spartans a thumbs-up; he was unusually cheerful for a Marine.
"Hm, yes. You're supposed to be dead," she reminded the Marine.
He chuckled and lowered his head to the bloody pool underneath it obligingly.
"Now, you four. You'll be rescuing them, in pairs of two. There's not enough room for all four of you on set at once. And it might break my little hill." The humans without armor chuckled. It was a running joke among the Navy; Spartans tended to break things. "Remember, lots of yelling."
"Ma'am, we speak via comm link. You will not hear us," John pointed out quietly.
"Turn on your speakers anyway. It's no fun if they can't hear you giving orders."
John motioned to his Spartans, and each activated their speakers. "Yes, ma'am," they chorused. Kate grinned like a Cheshire cat.
"Quiet on the set!" The few mutterings between crew members instantly stopped. "Lights!" The battlefield was bathed in cold white light. People were standing with screens off to the side, but what purpose they could possibly have, John had no clue. "Cameras!" Each camera was clicked to on and began recording. "Action!"
At that, the Marines began hollering. One loud exclamation of, "Holy shit, it's an Elite!" wormed it way through the sound of silent gunfire and yelling Marines. John and Kelly took that as their cue and bounded on scene. Kelly led the way, zipping into a position behind the Marines so fast John doubted the cameras would be able to follow her.
Remembering his orders to slow himself down for the camera's frames, he stomped up next to her and primed a fake grenade from his belt, threw it, and barked, "Grenade!" All of the Marines and Spartans ducked.
One of the Marines pretended to get hit by a plasma burn and cried out in pain; John felt him collapse against his armor. He glanced down; the Marine grinned, winked, and rolled off of him, biting on something in his mouth. Realistic blood began to seep from his mouth.
John rolled his eyes inside his visor. Marines, they were all the same.
"And… cut!" The Spartans stood, gingerly avoided stepping on any of the "dead" Marines at their feet. "Excellent. You two, next," Kate ordered briskly, waving at James and Linda. "Let's go, let's go!"
John and Kelly watched this time. Kelly darted to the other side of the set where she could pretend to be an Elite, to spark imagination. Kate ordered her to warble like the Elites did just before a charge, and she managed a very good imitation of it.
The set suddenly went silent as the speakers overhead sparked and crackled to life. "This is Admiral Hood," the speaker belched, squawking. "All hands, prepare for battle. I repeat, to battle stations. We are entering the Tauri system. Victoria is under attack. Our orders are to deposit our special weapons and defend the planet. Spartans, report to docking bay eight. Admiral Hood, out."
The speakers crackled back to silence; Kate looked up to dismiss the Spartans only to notice they were already gone. The Marines were right behind them, waving goodbye and grabbing towels from a bin by the door to wipe off their make-up.
Kate smirked and motioned for three of her camera crews to follow her. She led them on a run to the bridge, where Admiral Hood was barking orders at harried-looking men and women operating the stations there.
"Admiral, requesting permission to accompany the Spartans," Kate said as the tall man noticed her. He quirked an eyebrow in surprise.
"They are going into battle, Mrs. Ubrood."
"I know, sir. They're not great actors, sir. We need something better for the campaign. I think this is it." Kate grinned. She wasn't afraid.
"Very well, but they will not be ordered to keep your crew safe especially. They will do what they do best. You may not be able to keep up with them," he warned.
"I have a solution to that," Kate assured him, running back out of the bridge. Her three crewmen glanced at each other, saluted the Admiral smartly, and followed.
"Time to break out the big guns," she told them, huffing, as she sped down the hallways. "Get those portable cameras and key them to follow one Spartan each." The three broke off and headed back for C Deck; Kate continued into docking bay eight.
The Spartans were lifting impossibly big crates into Pelicans. She spotted one of them notice her; suddenly, all four glanced over. They almost seemed to communicate silently.
"Master Chief?"
The one she was looking at shook its head and motioned to their right; the other Spartan marched over.
"You need a way to identify yourself while in your armor," Kate scolded. "You have a secondary mission. It won't impede your original mission," she assured him. He was just standing there, seemingly unfazed as she looked up at him. Four of her crewmembers came in, each carrying one of the large spheres. Kate motioned to them; she didn't see the Spartan move, but she was sure he saw them.
"There will be a camera following each of you. They're a special new type; they can fly themselves, and they'll be controlled by a few people here. You don't have to worry about protecting them; if they're blown to pieces, they are expensive but they send everything they record directly back here so we will still have the footage."
The Master Chief nodded in understanding, saluted, and moved back to loading Pelicans. Kate shook her head slightly and turned to check on the camera equipment.
"Sir, new orders?" Kelly asked. John didn't turn to her as he shoved a box of supplies into the belly of the Pelican.
"We'll be on film again. They have flying cameras to follow each of us. You are not to protect them unless you have nothing better to do." Three green acknowledgement lights in his display indicated that his team understood.
"Our second time to Victoria," Kelly said in a private comm link to John. "Remember Graves?"
"Yes," John answered. "The forest will make the invasion difficult to contain. There are many hiding places."
Kelly hummed agreement as all four Spartans, their task of loading the Pelicans done, went to the armory at the side of the bay to gather equipment. Linda grabbed a sniper rifle, a pistol for close-up work, and extra clips. Kelly and John decided to prepare for a lot of shooting and only brought a few grenades each, loading their belts with clips of ammo instead. James carefully chose his weaponry, obviously intending to mostly use grenades and careful shots from a powerful pistol.
The speakers crackled to life. "All hands, prepare to launch. It's hot out there; pilots, be careful." The ship slowed noticeably; suddenly, it lurched. John and the Spartans stayed on their feet, but most everyone else fell to the ground, skidding a few feet.
"We've been hit," one Marine yelled. "Get me on the ground!" Everyone was loading up into Pelicans; John led his Spartans into the one with the lightest load. The four cameras followed them in; Kelly glanced at one and then looked at John, obviously amused.
"Here we go!" the pilot yelled. The Spartans remained standing as the Pelican dropped from the bay, into the atmosphere of the planet. John looked out of the open hatch; dense forests below turned the planet green. He could see a city, probably their destination, as the pilot fought for control. The Pelican lurched as a crosswind caught it; John grabbed a hand-hold, making sure it was secured to the frame.
Pelicans followed behind them, weaving. Suddenly, a Covenant Phantom Gunboat glided into position behind the group of Pelicans. It began firing; John heard a pilot scream as a plasma ball engulfed his cockpit. The Pelican spun off course, quickly losing altitude.
"Brace yourselves," John ordered his crew, moving back from the hatch. The Covenant ship was coming for them, firing plasma as it followed them deeper into the gravity well of the planet. John looked down; if they were hit now, he doubted his Spartans would live through the fall.
The ship lurched with another gust of wind and a plasma ball just missed their wing. The pilot was trying to shake the Phantom but it followed doggedly.
"I can't shake it!" the pilot cried in frustration. "I'm going to have to insist you all jump. I'll get you as close as I can, but I can't touch down. That bastard'll light us up before you could say "shit"."
John indicated his agreement and motioned for the Spartans to untie the supplies. They threw them out of the hatch; they had parachutes for just this reason. The pilot struggled to control his ship as they skimmed lower; John could make out individual trees below. Suddenly, the ship lurched again, and John noticed that the stubby wing to his left had been sheared off. The Pelican started to tumble.
"Go, go!" the pilot yelled, struggling with the controls. John glanced at his Spartans; they stood silently.
"Rendezvous here," he ordered, calmly. They were only dropping a few hundred feet; nothing they couldn't handle. He marked the location of a lake he had noticed just behind them in their HUD maps.
Then he gracefully leapt out of the Pelican, spreading his arms and legs to slow his descent. He angled himself away from the Pelican so his Spartans could follow and concentrated on the lake. He aimed himself for it, trying to make his entry shallow enough to slow himself down on the tips of trees.
Behind him, he heard the Pelican explode and it dropped like a stone underneath him. John was careful not to move his head too much, to avoid spinning, but he caught a glimpse of the flying camera sticking next to him, its eye turned to the ground.
"We have company," Kelly said through the comm link. John carefully looked over his shoulder to see a Banshee start diving on him. He quickly rolled out of the way, dropping fast, as its plasma guns fired.
John quickly spread his arms and legs again, pulling back into a shallow dive. He saw the Banshee underneath him and then Kelly plummeted past. She landed on the Banshee with a thump he couldn't hear, but she quickly dispatched the pilot and climbed into the cockpit.
"I have the Banshee," she said simply.
"Prepare to keep Covenant off our tails," John ordered. The trees were only a few seconds away. "Everyone, meet up at the lake and we'll hump it from there."
He shut off his comm and speakers and prepared for a rather brutal landing. The tips of the tallest trees brushed his armor; he tucked himself into a ball and his speed immediately increased. He felt himself crash through several good-sized pines, each impact jarring his teeth. Suddenly, he felt a little resistance, and then he was through a trunk and hit the dirt. He rolled, taking the damage and spreading it out, bouncing off of another tree's roots before finally coming to a stop.
He could hear another of his teammates come down close by; the cracking of the trees was a unique sound. It wasn't their first hot drop, but, as he sat up, he wished the Pelicans had better chances of actually making it to the surface. Pilots were quickly running out.
John twisted, checking himself for injuries. Only a few bruises and a twisted ankle; he'd survive. He looked around and oriented himself to his map; the lake was just ahead. He heard a Banshee overhead and ducked under cover, unwilling to risk being seen if it wasn't Kelly's.
Two green acknowledgement lights lit up his HUD, drawing his attention away from the sky. Linda and James were down and safe. Kelly's lit a moment later; she was probably at the lake.
John took the rifle from his back and started towards the lake, keeping an eye on his motion detector. He doubted the Covenant had moved away from the cities yet, but he'd been surprised before.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing; Kelly's Banshee was sitting by the lakeside, but she was nowhere to be seen. He clicked his comm once; Kelly appeared at the opposite side of the lake and darted towards him. It was a small lake, almost a pond; she made it to him in a few seconds.
James and Linda joined them quickly. John glanced up; only three cameras had survived the crash. The fourth had probably been crushed or hit by a tree on its way down.
"Our orders are to make it here," John told them all as they crouched in the underbrush. He dropped a marker on the map in their HUDs; they were supposed to cover the troops – and wreak havoc of their own – in the nearest city. "For now, we'll go in pairs. Split up if necessary. James and Linda, Kelly and I. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," the Spartans answered quickly.
John nodded and moved away, Kelly following him. She had dismantled the Banshee after landing it, so the Covenant wouldn't find it. The two pushed it into the pond to let it sink and then headed towards the city. James and Linda would take a different route.
They jogged silently for three miles, eyes and ears open for Covenant troops. They found nothing; even the animals of the forest had disappeared.
Suddenly, Kelly's light winked red; John dropped into the bush. She was ahead, and had probably found enemies. He crawled up to her position; she motioned with a flick of her wrist. A troop of Grunts, overseen by two Jackals, were just on the edge of the forest ahead of them. The cameras stayed back, watching over the heads of the two Spartans.
John nodded and raised his rifle; Kelly did the same. They fired in unison, taking out the four Grunts so quickly the Jackals were unable to being their shields up before they became targets themselves.
The two Jackals dropped without a sound and Kelly darted ahead to secure their shields, tossing one to John. They strapped them to their forearms as another layer of protection.
John policed a pair of plasma grenades from the Grunts. He preferred them to the UNSC-issue frag grenades. They moved silently across the clearing, hating to be so exposed. The buildings of the city were just ahead, and in the distance, fire glowed on the horizon.
Silently, Kelly and John split up, separated by a block as they moved silently into the city. They came across the occasional signs of resistance, but mostly, the roads were just littered with dead civilians. The Covenant had already cleared this area.
Kelly's light winked red again, and John quickly ducked into an alley. He heard the sharp retort of her rifle across the buildings separating them, and then silence. Her light winked green and they continued.
John rounded a corner and saw a group of Marines hunkered down behind a car on its side. They were clearly resting after a long battle; two were trying to staunch the bleeding in a third Marine's side. That Marine was pale and shaking. John moved up silently to them; they glanced up and were clearly relieved.
"We're pinned, sir," one of the Marines told him. "They've got a plasma turret out there." John nodded in understanding and peeked around the car. Sure enough, a troop of Grunts milled about a plasma turret. A red-armored Elite was barking orders, his split jaws dripping saliva.
"What's that?" one of the Marines whispered, pointing to the camera.
"A camera," John said shortly. "Ignore it."
"Yes, sir," the Marine said quietly, turning back to watching the rooftops for snipers.
"Kelly, we have a situation," John said into his comm.
"I see it, sir." Kelly waved from across the street; she had hunkered behind a car of her own.
"I have wounded here," John said. "We'll take out that turret and the Elite and call for evac."
"Acknowledged. Rabbit, sir?"
John nodded. "Go."
He waited while Kelly darted from her position into the middle of the street. She whistled at the Covenant, drawing the attention of the Marines as well.
"What the fuck?!" one of the Marines gasped. "He's gonna…"
Suddenly, the plasma turret fired; but Kelly was already moving, darting up the street. John swung out from behind the car, firing on the Grunt manning the turret. The Elite roared a challenge upon seeing the green soldiers; it brandished an energy sword and charged Kelly. John continued picking off Grunts as Kelly unloaded her rifle's clip into the Elite. It stumbled just as it reached her, and she punched a hand through its head. It dropped, releasing its energy sword.
The street silenced; Kelly ran back to the Marines and John, kneeling by the wounded man. She assessed his wound carefully and then injected him with the biofoam from a first aid kit in one Marine's backpack.
"You'll live," she told the Marine; he nodded weakly and passed out, going limp. Kelly picked him up effortlessly and John motioned for the Marines to follow them. They swept down the street, and John paused only to pick up a couple more plasma grenades. The team worked their way into the city, looking for a parking lot large enough for a Pelican to evac the wounded Marine.
John took point, leading his Spartan and the Marines as they came across more small groups of Elites, Grunts, and Jackals. Kelly kept the wounded Marine out of danger; the Spartans had standing orders to save as many lives as possible.
John poked his head around a corner and was greeted with a roar of rage. A pair of Hunters down the block raised their fuel rod guns and primed them for a shot; John winked his light red to Kelly and said over his speakers, "Hunters," before diving into the middle of the street and coming up firing. The Hunters tried to shift their aim but their guns released the plasma early, harmlessly blowing holes in the concrete to John's right.
The two Hunters hunkered behind their shields and advanced, jerking. John threw a grenade; the Hunters dashed out of the way. They could move quickly if necessary. The closest one was closing in, and John rolled out of the way as it tried to bash him with its shield. The camera whirled above them, distracting the Hunter just long enough for John to spot a flash of unprotected orange flesh and pump it full of lead. The Hunter screamed and fell; the second Hunter bellowed angrily and charged.
John ducked under the shield and spines that could cut through him, shields or no, and stuck a grenade from his pocket on the Hunter's armor, rolling away. The Hunter turned to face him, oblivious of the grenade on its back. It detonated, showering John with orange blood. The second Hunter fell.
John winked his green light and stood back up, wiping as much of the blood off as he could and just managing to smear it.
As they moved on, one of the Marines kicked a Hunter, yelling at it. Kelly picked that Marine up by the scruff of his uniform like a bad puppy and walked him to the end of the block before releasing him again.
"Over here!" one of the Marines shouted. "We've got wounded here, too." John and Kelly jogged over to a store front; behind the shot-out glass displays, a team of Marines watched them carefully as they ducked through the door.
"We've been holding this area as an evac zone," one of the new Marines said quietly. "We have a collection of wounded already. Drop you man here," he told Kelly. She gently placed the Marine on her shoulder into the hands of two waiting medics. "We'll take care of him."
John nodded and moved back out; the original group of Marines followed, leaving behind one member to augment the team holding the zone.
Kelly and John continued to move into the city, the Marines tagging along. They routed more Covenant, killing most and chasing a few Grunts down when they tried to flee. Kelly continued to play rabbit with the bigger groups, allowing John and the Marines to soften them up a little first.
John glanced at his ammo counter as he reloaded; he would need to resort to Covenant weapons soon. He preferred the rattle of the rifle, and the rapid fire, but Covenant weapons were useful, too.
The cameras continued to follow each Spartan, and after a gunfight, would circle the carnage of the aliens. None of the Marines were wounded as they joined another group, pinned down by a Wraith tank that was making quick work of the barricade. Kelly and John had handled the tanks before, but they were tough.
John looked around; they were in a residential district. Most of the homes were squashed together, making it impossible to easily flank the tank. There was a group of Grunts and a few Jackals accompanying the Wraith as it rumbled and belched plasma.
"You, Marines, distract them," John ordered. He and Kelly preparing to move, lining up on opposite sides of the barricade.
"Go!" John barked, sprinting forward. The Marines fired into the crowd of Grunts, taking down quite a few. A methane tank blew up, engulfing a pair of Jackals standing by the unfortunate Grunt.
Kelly pulled ahead of John and fired at a Jackal; John targeted his own shielded Covenant. The Grunts were dropping like flies to the Marines, clearly startled by the two green demons running at them. They fled, squeaking in distress, as the Wraith moved back, trying to track the two blurs.
A plasma mortar exploded just behind John, splashing his shields; they drained a bit, but he was too close now for the Wraith to hit him. Kelly leapt onto the tank ahead of him and began tearing at the hatch, trying to get at the Elite within. John turned his attention to the Jackals. He shot one in the foot; it howled in pain and he was among them. A quick flick of his foot caught one Jackal in the stomach, and his foot sunk into its intestines. It died with a squawk.
Another Jackal brought its plasma pistol up and fired; John felt it cascade over his shields, draining them. He attacked the Jackal, butting it in the head with his rifle. Its head snapped back, the neck clearly broken, and sunk to the ground. John activated the shield on his forearm and whirled to face the last Jackal, just in time; the shield took the brunt of a plasma bolt and then John pounded at the Jackal's shield with a fist, broke through, and snapped its neck.
The battlefield was quiet; Kelly dragged the limp body of an Elite, its head crushed from above, out of the tank and dropped a pair of grenades in the hatch. She jumped off the tank as the two grenades exploded with a dull thump and gutted the beast.
The cameras whirled around the scene, moving for close-ups of dead aliens. One of them came for a close-up of Kelly's visor and she let it.
"Nice job, sirs," a Marine whistled as he came up to their position; his troop followed, as did Kelly and John's stragglers. "We'd've been paste if you hadn't come."
John turned on his external speakers. "These four will stay with you," he said, indicating the Marines that had followed him and Kelly. "Continue mopping up the Covenant."
The Marines saluted, which the Spartans returned, and moved off deeper into the city.
"Linda, James, report," John ordered. James came back almost immediately.
"It's light resistance," he said calmly. John could hear faint screaming in the background. "One Marine down so far."
"There is wounded evac here," John told him, dropping another marker on their HUD maps.
"We'll get him there," Linda said. "We haven't encountered anything but Grunts and Jackals. I don't like it, sir."
"We've taken on Hunters and a Wraith," Kelly said, breaking into the conversation. "You're just lucky."
"I thought John was the lucky one," James remarked with a smug tone. John sighed quietly; it was a frequent comment. His Spartans only joked when they were on the battlefield, in their comfort zone.
"Focus, Spartans," John muttered. A chorus of "Yes, sir" answered him. "Linda, James, evac your wounded and then split up. We need to fan out; there isn't much Covenant on the ground yet."
James and Linda acknowledged his order; Kelly nodded. "Good luck, everyone." John ended the conversation and turned to Kelly. "I will head north," he said. He'd be going towards the center of the city. Kelly nodded and walked off to the east immediately.
John made his way deeper into the city. The camera followed him, whirring away. Occasionally it would dart over to a burned shell of a store, or go up high to take shots of the city above him. The Spartan was silent as he made his way into the city. In the distance, he could hear rifles firing, and then the boom of something large exploding.
It was peaceful for him for a few moments before he rounded a corner and nearly ran into a group of blue-armored Elites. They stared at each other for a moment before the largest of the Elites charged with a warble; John emptied his rifle into the alien's midsection, moving away. It had an energy sword in its left hand.
He finally punctured the shield around the taller alien and rounds tore through its stomach. It bellowed and fell; John turned to the remaining two Elites. It was rare to see them without Grunts or Jackals, as they usually led groups of underlings into battle, but these three had just been walking together.
He pushed the puzzle from his mind as the two Elites charged in unison, firing from their plasma rifles, yelling what were probably religious battle cries. John switched to his pistol as his rifle clacked empty, circling, and succeeding in wearing down one Elite's armor and punching a round through its skull.
The other charged and tried to bash him in the head with its plasma rifle; John blocked the punch and brought a fist into the Elite's midsection. Its shields held and it bellowed, spittle flecking on John's visor.
The two grappling were suddenly throw into the air; John's shields drained entirely. Bewildered, John rolled until he was on top of the Elite and punched its head until its shields gave and his hand cracked the cement under the Elite. Its skull lay in fragments, purple blood oozing.
John, remembering the third attacker, rolled – and not a moment too soon. The tell-tale green of a Hunter's fuel rod cannon exploded where he had been not a moment ago, vaporizing most of the dead Elite.
John turned to face the pair of Hunters at the end of the block. He wasn't nervous, but he was cautious; the two Hunters were at the forefront of a Wraith tank, surrounded by Grunts and Jackals. Perhaps that was what had knocked him and the Elite on their asses.
It was a huge force for one Spartan to go against alone, especially since he had no loaded weapons. John leapt to the side as the second Hunter fired its fuel rod cannon at him; it impacted the cement and sent him crashing into a miraculously unbroken window. It shattered and he skidded into what was obviously a clothing store.
He was up and moving as soon as he touched linoleum, priming two frag grenades. John leapt out of the window again, moving as he threw the small balls into the midst of the group. Grunts shrieked and tried to flee, but the grenades detonated and destroyed most of the underdog units. A couple of methane tanks were obviously leaking; John followed the frag grenades with a pair of plasma ones. They lit the leaking methane and two fireballs engulfed more Covenant.
John ducked into an alley just as the Hunters fired simultaneously, the building he crouched behind getting the brunt of the attack. John's shields had filled in again, but he knew he couldn't suffer another direct hit.
His ankle hurt; biofoam had already filled his chest cavity to protect the broken ribs. John could feel those ribs grating in his chest and hoped they wouldn't puncture a lung. He took inventory of his equipment; two more frag grenades, a handful of clips – he reloaded both his pistol and his rifle – and a single plasma grenade. Nothing heavy-duty for the Hunters or the tank, and no rabbit, either.
John hated relying on his luck, but he knew the odds were against him now. He pulled the pin from his last two frag grenades and hurled them blindly towards the group; he heard a surprised grunt, much too close for his liking, and then a grenade bounced back into the alley.
John's eyes widened in surprise and he dove away just as it detonated. Fragmentations of the grenade peppered his shields, dropping them a hair. He rolled to a stop and faced the alleyway entrance; a Hunter stared back at him through the green glow of its fuel rod cannon as it primed for a shot. John, thinking quickly, dove forward, coming up under the gun. It flashed and shot, draining his shields just from the proximity as it soared over his shoulder.
He punched the Hunter and it roared. John ducked under it – quite a feat when he was nearly as big as it – and ran to the opposite side of the street. The Hunter detonated, spraying the alleyway in orange blood and tissue, the plasma grenade having been thrust deep inside the orange worms that made up the beast.
The second Hunter, back with the group, roared in grief and brought its cannon to bear on John as the Spartan unloaded his rifle at the few remaining Grunts. They dropped quickly, still milling in confusion, and John dove away from the Hunter's plasma shot.
Just one Hunter and a Wraith to go, John thought to himself grimly as he came up. Something in his ankle tore; John knew he had to end the fight soon, or he would be severely injured.
John emptied his rifle into the Hunter's shield, forcing it to go defensive as it crab-walked towards him. He quickly switched to his pistol and leapt forward. The Hunter wasn't used to being attacked physically and froze for the vital moment John needed; as he pushed against the Hunter, the Spartan saw a flash of wriggling orange flesh and emptied two pistol shots into the area.
The Hunter screeched; John could smell a bad odor through his visor. The Hunter shoved him back, rounding its back, and charged; the spines sliced through air as John threw himself to the side, rolling and coming back to his feet behind the Hunter. He saw another flash of orange and emptied his pistol into the skin; the Hunter roared again and then fell, its gun discharging into the ground.
Not forgetting the tank, John moved. He wasn't quite fast enough; his battered shields dropped again as the splash from the plasma mortar landed beside him. He felt the wave of heat and, just as quickly, his armor's thermal systems kicked in, cooling him back down.
John charged the tank, quickly coming into its vulnerable range. He leapt on it, battering the hatch with his gloved hand. It buckled under the third blow and an Elite's roar of anger rose from the cockpit as John wrenched it off.
An energy sword nearly took off his hand as he tried to punch the pilot, but the Elite was smart. It waved the sword above its head, blind but trying to wound him. John pulled out his pistol and shot at the dark interior. The Elite barked in pain and then was silent; it hadn't been shielded. The energy sword dropped into the Elite's lap, dying with a faint sputter.
A group of humans crept from the store John had been thrown into; John caught them on his motion sensor and whirled, bringing his pistol to bear but holding his fire as he noticed that they were mostly human – and all children.
He climbed down from the Wraith as the dozen or so children approached him warily. A teenager, probably fourteen or fifteen, led the way. She held a baby in her arms; her blue eyes were red from crying. She and the rest of the children were relatively clean, no doubt having used clothing from the store to dress in.
"Are… Are you a Spartan?" the teenager asked John quietly, her voice trembling.
John never got used to this. War made children grow up fast – hell, he knew that better than most. But sometimes, it hit him again, that humanity's future was literally being destroyed. Every single child that died… He shook himself and turned on his external speakers.
"Yes. I am Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan 117." The youngest of the children, probably four or five, ducked behind the older children at the sound of his voice.
"Oh… I'm Jane," the teenager said. She offered her hand; John gently – he could accidentally crush her, he knew – shook it. "Are you here to save us?"
"Yes, I am." Not really, but he had standing orders. He glanced around. "Are there more?"
"No." The teenager looked like she was going to cry again. "Our… Our parents… We don't know where they are." A few of the younger children whimpered.
"Okay. Is anyone hurt?"
"Jacob is." Jane glanced at the baby in her arms. "He won't wake up…"
John noticed then that the baby, swaddled in someone's shirt, was burned badly with plasma. He grimaced and gently picked Jacob up from Jane's arms. "I will take care of him," he told her softly. "Get yourselves some supplies. I will take you to a safe place."
John straightened; Jane gathered the children and they searched the stores nearby. Each found a backpacks and loaded it with food and clothing. John gently placed the dead baby in the clothing store, placing soft clothing around it. It wouldn't matter when the place was glassed, but… He did it anyway.
He met the children again and wondered how he could possibly get them back. He was deep into enemy territory.
"This is Master Chief Spartan 117," he said into his comm link. "I need immediate evac for fourteen children."
He heard conferring in the background and glanced at the children; they were watching him. They had no idea he was calling to evac, he realized, and he turned on his speakers to reassure them quickly. They gathered around his feet; some sat, others stood.
"This is Foehammer. I read you, Chief. You're half a mile from closest evac point. I'll be waiting." John's map flashed as another marker was added; it was back the way he came, so hopefully there wouldn't be as many enemies.
"Roger that, Foehammer." He glanced at the children and turned on his external speakers, killing the comm. "We have transportation coming. You all need to stay behind me and keep quiet, okay?"
The children nodded. Jane picked up a four-year-old. "We'll carry the younger ones," she told John quietly. John nodded and picked up a Covenant rifle.
"Let's go," he ordered. He remembered to keep his voice soothing, though; these children didn't need any more trauma.
"Kelly, Linda, James, report." John spoke into his comm. He didn't like having to protect so many civilians, especially children, on his own.
"Yes, sir?" Kelly's voice answered first; then James and Linda responded.
"I have a dozen civilian children. Are any of you close enough to cover us?"
Each Spartan paused and checked their maps. Kelly answered in the affirmative, saying she would double-time it to his position. Linda and James were too far away, and John ordered them to continue evacing wounded troops and killing aliens.
Soon, as John crept around a building to check the next block for Covenant, he heard Kelly whistle Oly Oly Oxen Free and appeared from a building just down the block. John waved her over and she ran, stopping in front of the crowd of kids.
"Hello," Jane said, looking up at the new Spartan.
"Hey, kid." Kelly's voice was warm and the children instantly relaxed. John breathed out softly; Kelly had a way with wounded soldiers and kids. He never did. "How're you all doing?"
"Good," Jane answered. "I'm Jane." She would have offered her hand, but she carried a four-year-old.
"I'm Kelly." Kelly knelt to be on their level – or close, John supposed. "John and I are here to protect you, okay?"
"Uh huh," Jane said, nodding. "That's John?"
Kelly would have a word with him; John didn't like giving people his name, but kids needed that connection.
"That's John," Kelly confirmed. "He's a stick in the mud. I'm much more fun."
The children giggled. John watched for enemies.
"Now, we're going to play a game, okay?" The kids nodded eagerly, but the older ones knew this "game" would be a lot more important than tag. "John's going to run ahead and find somewhere to hide. Then you will follow him, and you'll run as fast as you can, okay? We don't have far to go."
"Like tag?" one of the five-year-olds piped up.
"Exactly. And when you find John, tag him, okay?" The children giggled and nodded. "Then he'll find another spot to hide. If you see any aliens, scream. We'll protect you."
One of the three-year-olds toddled over and hugged Kelly; she gently wrapped an arm around the child. The rest, except Jane and a couple of the oldest, followed suit until Kelly was buried in children.
"I love kids," Kelly confessed to John over a private comm.
"Okay, ready?" The children moved back and nodded, much more calm. They didn't look on the verge of tears. Kelly flicked her hand; John took off and the kids giggled as they watched him fly across the block.
"Who's first?" Kelly asked when John's acknowledgement light blinked green, the all-clear. Three volunteered; she sent them running together. They ran as fast as they could and got to John's spot easily. Another group of three took off as well, and then four more followed.
She sent two more, including Jane, and they made it as well; Kelly breathed out and picked up the smallest two children, hardly able to walk, let alone sprint. They clung to her armor and she took off; they gasped as she moved. Kelly, when exerting herself, could run at over 35 mph.
They regrouped and the children caught their breath. Others clamored to be carried; John picked up a pair and Kelly let another ride piggy-back.
John darted ahead again. They didn't run into any more aliens as the children played the find-John-in-the-block game. Still, the Spartans were on high alert. Children were vital to humanity's future.
Finally, John spotted a Pelican ahead. There were three Marines guarding it, including the pilot. John sprinted into the clearing and the Marines chuckled to see the children hanging off of his armor.
"We'll take it from here, Chief," a female Marine said. She looked at the children. "Ready to fly?" she asked them, grinning. They ran into the Pelican as Kelly herded the rest forward.
"Bye, Kelly! Bye John!" they chorused. Kelly waved; John did as well, though jerkily. He wasn't used to being called by his name.
The cameras followed this children into the Pelican and then back out, circling the Spartans. John ignored them and turned back to Kelly.
"Let's see if we can find more," he suggested. She nodded and took off with a final wave to the children being strapped into the Pelican. They would be taken a ship and protected; each fleet now had standing orders to rescue as many civilians as possible, put them all on one ship, and guard that ship until it fled, carrying its precious cargo to a safe colony.
The Pelican rose and John headed back into the fight. His ankle hurt, and he figured the best bet would be to commandeer that Wraith. The Grunts there probably had a few plasma grenades among them as well. It took him less than five minutes to make it back, while it had taken nearly twenty traveling with children.
John dragged the Elite from the Wraith and climbed in. He had almost no ammo left, and his ankle was sending sharp pains every time he rested weight on it. He had driven these things before and quickly turned it around, heading into the city.
Hopefully, one of Spartans wouldn't try to take him out, since he had no way of telling them which Wraith was his and didn't want them hesitating if they saw a Covenant Wraith.
He plowed over a group of Grunts that hadn't bothered to look when he came up behind them. They squealed as they were sucked under the Wraith's belly; John felt it rumble as it moved over the "rocky" terrain.
"Master Chief," his headset suddenly said. "Prepare your team for evac. We're pulling out."
John acknowledged the order and drove the Wraith towards the evac point he had pointed out to Linda and James.
"Kelly, Linda, James, return to the evac point," he ordered his team.
"But, sir, things are just getting interesting!" Kelly protested. She was breathing heavily.
"We're being pulled out," John said.
"Another planet for them to glass…" James muttered. John sympathized; it was hard to accept defeat, and they hadn't had a solid win for months.
"I am coming in a Wraith," he told them. "It has Grunts on the front."
The silence that greeted this announcement for a second made him grin. He could imagine all of his Spartans blinking at that news. "Have you been playing bumper car with the Grunts again?" Kelly asked, a grin in her voice.
"Affirmative," John answered, a chuckle on his voice.
The Wraith was slow, but it saved John from injuring his ankle further. He could feel the tear – probably his Achilles' tendon. He didn't want to aggravate it unnecessarily, and he plowed down a few more troops as he moved back to rendezvous with his team.
He rolled into the parking lot and his Spartans watched, wary in case it was actually Covenant. But they relaxed when he popped out of the hatch and jumped down, landing carefully on his good foot.
"You look beat up," Kelly commented wryly.
"I ran into enough trouble for all of us," John said with a shrug. He limped slightly, though he tried to hide it, and he knew all of his teammates could see.
"What kind of trouble?"
"Two Hunters, this tank, three Elites, and their Grunts and Jackals," John explained as they dismantled the Wraith quickly. They didn't want it falling back into Covenant hands, so they yanked and destroyed the main engine.
"That's it?" Kelly teased.
"At once. That's when I found the children."
"Ouch…" Kelly winced sympathetically. "We had it light. Where was that luck, John?"
John shook his head. His team was happy – they were losing another planet, but they had finally gotten back on the ground. It felt good.
A Pelican roared overhead and dropped quickly; a stream of Marines climbed in, some carrying wounded soldiers. John and his Spartans trooped in as well, standing in the bay and holding onto the frame above their heads. The three cameras followed, settling down on the ground beside the Spartan's boots like dogs. The Marines glanced at them warily, but Kelly explained what they were.
The pilot rose quickly, unwilling to stay on the ground, a stationary target, for any longer than necessary. They rejoined their ship swiftly, one of the last Pelicans inside.
The Spartans filed out, John limping more noticeably. The camera crew from before came to collect the little cameras, giving the Spartans thumbs up; Kate was nowhere to be found.
Once they were out of sight of the rest of the Marines, headed towards their garage, Kelly silently slung his arm over her shoulders; John huffed through the comm but didn't pull away when James did the same on the other side.
Linda opened the door to the garage and began pulling her armor off. Kelly and James set John down on his bunk – it bent under the weight of him and his armor – and went to take off their own armor. The ship jerked and rumbled as they entered Slipspace.
Now, the Spartans were silent. They had lost another world. Thousands, millions, of innocents were being burned even now. John and Kelly had rescued a paltry fourteen children. It didn't seem like enough.
Once Linda was out of her armor, and Kelly was nearly there, she came to help John. The "luckiest" Spartan was bruised all over, and had managed to get about half-way unarmored before his ribs ordered him not to bend over. Silently, Kelly and Linda took the armor off of his legs and set it on the rack to be cleaned. There was a large dent in his chest plate; he didn't know when that had happened.
John let Kelly examine the broken ribs and his ankle, and then assessed a nasty bruise on her back, feeling for cracked or broken ribs. Linda and James checked each other over as well.
"You should get that looked at," Kelly told John as he prodded her ribs. She hissed when he hit a sore spot. John shrugged in response to her comment.
"Come on." Kelly stood and dragged him up; Linda tossed both of them clothing and they dressed quickly. John's ankle was swollen to almost three times its normal size and he gingerly placed weight on it. He'd had worse, but Kelly was right; there was no reason to risk a bad heal when he had access to doctors.
Dressed plainly, he doubted any crew they came across would recognize either of them. They were tall, yes, but there were many tall, tough-looking soldiers. Outside of the MJOLNIR, they were basically faceless. Just another soldier recovering from the aftermath.
Kelly swung John's arm over her shoulder again and led him towards the medical wing. They passed few people on the way and weren't bothered. The medical wing was surprisingly quiet, considering that they had just come from battle.
A nurse hurried over to them and, upon noting their height, let Kelly continue supporting John instead of offering to take him herself. Not that John needed it, but he let Kelly guide him to a room and sat on the table. It creaked quietly.
"Now, let's see here," the nurse said briskly, washing her hands in the sink. Kelly stepped to the side of the room and stood there. "How'd you get this, big guy?"
John shrugged; he didn't really remember. "Probably lots of little things," he said quietly. She glanced up, nodded, and inspected his ankle.
"Does this hurt?" She gently prodded his ankle; John nodded. "Okay. You've torn your Achilles' tendon. I'm surprised you're still walking." He shrugged again. "And probably broken something in your ankle. We'll do a quick surgery and then you'll have to let it heal for a couple days, okay? That means no walking around."
She turned to Kelly. "Can you make sure he does that?" Kelly smirked and nodded. "Good. If you'll wait outside for a moment, then, we'll get started." Kelly obediently let herself out; John let the nurse inject a numbing agent into his ankle and then rolled onto his stomach on the table. She called in a doctor and swabbed the area to clean it as John lost feeling.
A man entered, dressed in a pristine white coat. He washed his hands and then the nurse pulled on his gloves for him and handed him tools as he carefully opened John's ankle, repaired the damage, and sewed him back up.
He left, and the nurse put John's ankle and foot in cast. They didn't have any crutches strong enough, she explained, but Kelly chuckled and said she could carry him.
"You need to lay off the potato chips," Kelly joked as she picked John up bridal style. John glared at her; she grinned. They both knew that any food other than MREs hadn't graced any soldier's stomach for a long time, unless they found a convenience store during a lull in the battle on a planet.
John hadn't eaten anything but soldier food since just after his augmentation, when he – and the other Spartans – were encouraged to eat as much as possible, including ice cream, French fries, and potato chips. It was the first time any of them had eaten anything remotely "bad" for them, not including the rare dessert treat offered as incentive to win, and they had all put on a little weight that wasn't entirely muscle. It had quickly been burned off, though, when they began to train again.
Kelly carried John back to the garage and put him on his bunk; he fell asleep quickly as she explained to James and Linda that John wasn't to walk for a couple days while his ankle and tendon healed. They agreed to work as a team, knowing John would be up and moving as soon as he woke.
Kelly watched John from her bunk as she drifted off to sleep. He wasn't "special" in any tangible way; he wasn't the strongest, or the fastest – she was, Kelly reminded herself with a smirk – or the best shot. He simple was special. They called it luck, but his luck had a weird way of manifesting itself. John had run into the worst of the Covenant on Victoria, but he survived – hell, he evacuated fourteen children, with her help. That softened the loss a smidgen, knowing fourteen children had survived, albeit orphans.
