The Fall and Rise of Avery Johnson

by carapoop

This is a "what if" story that tracks the path of Sgt. Avery Johnson through the course of the Insurrection in a world where the Covenant doesn't exist. The first two chapters are fairly short but the later ones do get a bit longer. Comments and criticism of any kind are very much welcome. Enjoy.

2. Chapter 2

June 23, 2528:

For the last three days every conversation in Utgard was about Mars. Johnson did not have many conversations anymore, but he couldn't avoid overhearing the talk when he spent all his time at the pub. And even if he found an empty corner, the screens blared on and on about the attack. It was big news, after all. Still, when he got drunk enough he could tune it out.

He wasn't drunk enough.

Johnson's shot glass slammed down on the table for the eleventh time that night. Before the fire faded from his throat he poured himself another. Johann's Pub was fairly crowded for a Wednesday night, but the conversations were hushed and somber. The war was past the point of no return now. Everyone on Harvest felt that, whether they supported the Insurrection or not. Things were going to get a lot worse before they got better, even out here. Johnson could feel the gravity of that realization weighing the city down.

"10 million dead in New Pari... ...tizens concerned for their safety... ...dreds of thousands took to the streets of Sydney in prote... ...can the Insurrection be stopped?"

Not until they get what they want, thought Johnson. Give them their god damn planets and they'll go home. Unless you want to keep mopping up your own blood. He smirked as the image of a HIGHCOM officer trying to wipe the streets clean with a worn-out mop played through his mind.

The smile faded a moment later. There would be a lot more blood spilled before any peace took hold. That was a fact. The question then became: how much? At what point did all this destruction and killing become worse than the conditions that started it? He knew the conflict had long since stopped being about people; it was an abstract battle now, freedom and individuality pitted against order and security. Both sets of ideals lived within Johnson, probably within most people. The irony was that the war had sapped all of those notions from daily life; Mars was the last straw. Now everyone picked a side, everyone watched the skies, everyone could be an enemy. Every day could be your last. That last thought gave Johnson a comfort he wished he didn't feel.

A shudder ran up his spine, and Johnson ended the war the only way he knew how. He took another shot.

"...iral Margaret Parangosky announced today that ONI would begin new initiatives "to root out and destroy Insurrectionist leadership within the year". When pressed for details, she decl..."

He passed out at the bar again.