Chapter 3
Fred winces and swears through gritted teeth as Kelly pulls out the Brute spike.
"That's gunna leave a mark" says Fred, humour masking the pain in his voice.
Kelly doesn't answer him; instead she removes a can of bio-foam from the medic pack salvaged from the wrecked Warthog, and pushes it straight into the wound, pulling the trigger.
As an icy coolness washes through Fred's nervous system, the pain stops almost instantly, the wound now filled with sturdy foam which would fight infection, release morphine and more importantly stop the bleeding. Spartans have a much higher pain threshold and immune system than the average human, but a spike from a brute rifle is covered in a toxin that slowly causes paralysis, but that's only if the victim is not treated soon enough, or doesn't die from the initial impact.
Kelly extends a hand to help Fred up, which he accepts...with his good arm. Fred wasn't going to fall for that old trick. So Kelly smacks him on the arm for good measure. The language Fred used to describe what kind of person Kelly was would have made an ODST blush.
"Man up Fred – you've had worse" remarks Kelly, side hurting from the laughing. She draws the upturned curve of a smile over her helmet to show there were no hard feelings.
"Are you two finished? Or do I have to put you on latrine duty for a month?" Says the Master Chief, not looking up from the crate he was rummaging looking for any remaining supplies in the compartments of the upturned Warthog.
The two Spartans replied with a chorus "No, Master Chief!" and immediately walked off to secure the perimeter, Fred walking to the mangled and battered corpses to check for anything of use, flexing his shoulder as he did so.
After Kelly and Linda finally reached their elevated firing point, it was only a matter of time until the Covenant broke off the attack and ran. They didn't get very far, Linda picked off the remaining few Grunts and Jackals with ease, as was the case when these lower Covenant species lose their leadership.
"Cowards" Thought Fred as he toyed with a Plasma Pistol.
"He's all patched up chief, we're good to go". Said Kelly, passing John as she walked up the street in the opposite direction from where they were engaged.
So far 117's digging had turned up a few satisfying results, as well as a few bad results too. After turning the Warthog inside out John had found at least five good clips of HE rounds for his and Kelly's assault rifles, ten rounds for Linda's sniper rifle and several grenades.
What wasn't so good was, there were only four shotgun rounds and, what with the amount of fire Kelly was pouring on the enemy with the rocket launcher, were no more rockets; they'd be in trouble if they came across heavy armour. The team would have to resort to using some Covenant weapons if they didn't want to get too up close and personal with any more troops they may encounter.
Linda provides top cover, but all is quiet.
She surveys the street with eyes like a hawk, watching for something, anything to move in the roadway below that wasn't friendly, when she catches a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision.
Linda swings he long rifle round in a graceful arc and dropping to a knee to be faced with nothing. She could have sworn she had seen movement in the tower block adjacent, she watched for a few moments more, scanning the windows but nothing even twitches.
"Just a ghost, a ghost in a dead city" she sighs, turning back round to the street, she made sure she kept one eye on the tower block beside her.
John sighs to clear his head, "Ok, Blue Team, let's move out. We need to link up with Noah and his squad, conserve your ammunition, there's not a lot left, try to keep to your pistols unless situation dictates" His voice flat, but authoritative. "Kelly share out the ammo, I'll carry the med kit".
"Roger that chief" replies Kelly taking the last couple of shotgun shells to Fred and couple of spare magazines for her rifle.
Fred and Linda's status lights on the chiefs HUD wink green, acknowledging the order.
The three in the road jogged to positions at the end of the street, away from the carnage they'd inflicted, stacking up on the corner of the building Kelly and Linda had provided cover from. They'd have to wait for Linda; fifteen flights of damaged stairs are tricky to traverse at best, even for a Spartan.
Blue Team needed to head south west from their current position. John calculated that if they were able to stick to the surface streets and not run into any trouble they should reach the park by sundown. That's if his luck would hold out.
In three hours Blue team had managed to travel twenty three blocks, meaning they were only, according to the Master Chiefs tactical map, about eight blocks away from the edges of the park. They had had to stop several times to let patrols pass, or divert if necessary. John believed they were making good time seeing as they had to do a little wet work on a stubborn group of Jackals that didn't want to get out of the Spartans way.
Their blades did all the handiwork, not a single shot was fired by either party. The only things left behind were the bodies of a half dozen jackals with slit throats and broken necks.
His luck was holding.
This was why he couldn't work out how things could go so wrong, so quickly.