"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, look out!" a Golden Elite yelled and then dived forward to avoid a barrage of brute grenades. They ricocheted around and exploded harmlessly against the many boxes of ammo and popping harmlessly against the structures walls.
Miranda, Johnson, and the arbiter quickly recalled their weapons and returned fire at the brutes perched on the walkway high above them leading to the index control room were they all presently resided. Several of the elites who had survived the brutal massacre at the hands of Tartarus picked up some Carbines and returned fire while weaving back and forth to avoid the idly bouncing rounds of fiery hell and shrapnel. The Arbiter rolled from behind his hiding spot and fired three shots before diving for cover from a barrage of enemy fire. The first shot picked off the brute's leader's helmet, the next two hit him right between the eyes and he died falling off the prepuces of the walkway. The other two reverted to their primal form and sprinted right off the platforms and to the Arbiter's disbelief managed to leap unto the main platform. The small force of elites and humans all fired desperately at them as they charged toward their positions. When it became apparent that they weren't slowing down, they all bounded desperately out the way as they crashed through all of the crates turned firing nests. One elite had mistakenly held position and continued firing with dual plasma rifles, confident that they would suffice. Both of them pinned him against a wall with the care and finesse of a barbarian and every bone in his body snapped, all of his muscles were crushed and his ligaments began to bend at odd angles underneath his own weight. He fell into a messy and crumpled heap and emitted a long cry.
After the kill their minds seemed to lag, and they stood there, brimming and shaking with rage and staring stupidly into space. The Arbiter in vengeance of his people's spilled blood, ruined him with one swift upwards thrust of his Plasma Blade from behind and the good Sergeant drilled a particle beam through the back of the other's head.
Far off in the distance they could hear another squad of brutes coming.
"More of the enemy approaches, at least a half dozen judging by the stench and the bellowing." said an Elite in a particularly bitter and spiteful tone.
"GO FIND OUT WHAT'S TAKING THEM SO LONG!"
He was correct and over the edge of the platform they could see six or seven brutes mercilessly firing away with their grenade launchers of their namesake. The mid level in which the Arbiter and company occupied was being bombarded by dozens of grenades indiscriminately thrashing every unfastened object around in a baptism of fire.
The brutes so preoccupied with their blissful labor had failed to notice the vanilla-armored elite running towards them at full sprint. Half way across the long and narrow platform he activated his long battery powered sword and leaped the length of the remaining walkway and landed into the formation of brutes. With all the might and fury he possessed, he slashed the energy sword across the backs of three brutes and instantly killed the three brutes in one swift move. Their cries in the throes of pain alerted the other three simian fighters. Two of them berserked towards him and he turned off his sword and grabbed a grenade in both hands and primed them. As the two Brutes charged in his direction with the intention of killing him, he calmly sidestepped and the charging bulls missed and ran past either side of them. He calmly attached a plasma grenade to each of them, they stopped running and skidded across the polished walkway and for a fleeting second, they realized what had happened and cried out in horror. Their cries however were nearly silenced by the deafening explosions.
"Usurper!" the white elite accused pointing a long finger at the remaining brute with his non-sword wielding hand. He reactivated the sword but the Brute reacted quicker then his comrades. He brought the blade of his brute shot down hard on the top of the white elite's helmeted head and he flinched in pain. He repeated this again and again until he knocked him into the other direction. Through the strikes from his fist and the blunt weapon he regained control and heaved the crackling slice of energy at the Brute Captain and it sliced through his arm and even cracked into his ribs.
"AHHHHH YOU FUCKER" the Brute Captain roared profanity at the Special Ops Commander.
The brute slapped him hard causing him to fall over. He got up quickly but with his back turned to the brute. The brute seized the chance to hit him repeatedly with the grenade launcher turned punishing ram and knocked him repeatedly in the back and the back of the skull. A single particle beam shot lanced through the brute and interrupted his next blow to Elite, the elite seizing an opportunity of his own turned around faster then humanly possible and triumphantly sliced the top off his skull off.
"Arbiter are you down there? What are you doing" the puzzled Elite called down from the walkway. "The surviving council members informed me of your unlikely alliance," he continued.
Casually leaping off the walkway he flawlessly landed much like the brutes, unto the control panel's platform
"Yes, friend, it is I" the Arbiter replied. "What word do you bring of the outside?"
"You and you're new found allies must join us in battle, it won't be long before the brutes take back this control room and activate halo"
"Halo cannot be activated from here anymore. We need an Artifact known as the Ark. The Oracle-" the Arbiter paused and corrected himself, "-the Monitor has saved its location into the Scarab."
"Then we must protect your Scarab from harm in that case!" The special ops commander declared. Come with me and we will drive them back to their tribes on Braxis!" The Monitor floated by at that moment returning from his duties.
"Here, Here" the elites roared in agreement."
The elite in white armor jumped on the platform orbiting the three levels on a reckless impulse, and then quickly while the window of opportunity was still open, leaped unto the walkway.
"Come forth brethren, there are still brutes to be slain." He called down to the others
They all followed his actions and jumped unto the orbiting platform with some quick internal calculations and a running start. Johnson nearly did the same thing, and then remembering his humanity, he hitched a ride all the way to the walkway with the monitor who had nothing to monitor anymore.
Without any second thought or instructions they all retraced their steps through the facility at a brisk pace.
They came to the previously locked entrance to the facility; it was now an open and flaming cavern due to Johnson's handy work.
They saw a gaggle of assorted high-ranking elites guarding the entrance and it was clear where their steady stream of elites for their previous endeavor had come from.
Below them they could see a huge battle taking place.
The robust elite forces were in mostly scattered into small squads around the perimeter of the structure firing away with the plasma rifles and maneuvering around in deliberate circles and laying down fields of fire as were a small army of grunts being herded around by their Sanghelli officers. Around them was a fairly stereotypical covenant base with some weapons cache's some more energy pylons, defense turrets firing staggering volumes of fire into infantry forces idiotic enough to fall into range and a sniper box complete with a miniature gravity lift.
Most of the brutes were stemming from a cruiser to the west of the position, hundreds of troops and vehicles were attempting to enter through the canyon across from the facility, this is were the rebel forces concentrated the most fire. Thousands of multi-colored rounds poured into the narrow chasm and instantly burned any life form to death. But the covenant's remnants had many life forms to spare. Huge wraith tanks rolled back and forth across the plains and lobbed tremendous balls of intense heat and energy annihilating groups of brutes and flinging ghosts and specters dozens of feet away dooming all of the riders to be wielded shut in their own burning and melting prison.
The gaggle of warriors exchanged glances as they examined the battlefield below them.
"Do you think you're up to fight one more battle, Sergeant?" said Miranda.
"Try and stop me."
He ran forward unto the scarab docked to the control room's entrance. Ran down eagerly into bridge with the eagerness of a child running down the stairs on Christmas morning and he greedily took control.