Chapter 4

The hairs on Monty's neck are standing up. Something's wrong. He always got like this when trouble was brewing it was his, 'sixth sense'.

Monty's nest is sitting on the very corner of the city's park, with the LZ half a mile deeper in a clearing where families would have once gone for picnics and where children could play in the playground.

The "park" could pass as a forest, and is easily four miles in diameter. The park is one of a hundred in the city which covers about a third of the planet, designed to let the inhabitants of this metropolis feel the pleasure of grass beneath their feet.

The parks themselves used to be maintained by thousands of members of staff. All of which were now either off planet or dead.

Yellow team had picked a tactically perfect spot for an LZ. The park was high ground, the ground sloping up gradually towards its peak at the centre of the park where an information kiosk, sports fields and tennis courts were located. The LZ was further down the slope to the North on an hundred metre square patch of grass surrounded by thick, tall trees and other dense vegetation growth. There were only two entrances to the large patch of open grass, one, leading to the summit, which Tim had heavily booby trapped, and the North park entrance, where Monty 088 now sat.

Monty peers through his scope and sees the same thing he's been looking at for two days. Nothing, which is exactly the problem. Every shred of nerve in young Spartans body is telling him the enemy is out there watching. This frustrates him, and worries him. The covenant never holds off from an attack, especially when the Brutes are in charge, why now?

He scans round to the left of the eight lane carriageway when something catches his eye. A pile of concrete rubble shimmered as if he was looking at heat haze. Impossible, the temperature was a mild 11°C according to his HUD; the sun simply wasn't strong enough today to bake the tarmac.

His instincts were right.

Cloaking technology.

They're about a half mile out at the moment, but closing fast; Spartan 088 surmises the enemy is moving at a quick march so the cloaking shimmers as little as possible.

Monty curses himself for not picking things up sooner. Damn it he was better than that.

Monty keys his mike.

"Chief we're about to have some very unwelcome house guests" said Monty, tension brewing in his voice; he was spoiling for a decent fight.

"Report 088, be advised we are on the move to your location" Replies his team leader.

"I've got multiple contacts, they're ghosting Chief, ETA two minutes" informs the scout, with a sly grin, he pans left and right seeing more and more near invisible silhouettes.

"You got the shot?" comes the reply, Michelle this time, static faintly crackling on the link due to the density of the Forrest between the warriors.

"I have the shot" Says Monty, the excitement in his voice mounting, waiting for the kill order to unleash hell on the enemies of mankind, his breathing is slow and relaxed despite his blood lust.

"Start the party 088, Light them up" replies Noah 133.

This is it the moment Monty's been waiting for what seems like an eternity, he switches to thermal imaging- which he disliked, it was cumbersome, and was prone to malfunctions, but he gambled that he would only need it for a maximum of three shots, then he could go back to his normal scope.

Monty takes a deep breath in and lines up with the biggest multicoloured blob within range; "by god there are a lot of heat signatures" he thought – he was fine with that, it just meant there were more for him to kill.

From the looks of it it's a Brute, a large Brute; no doubt a Chieftain, its headgear was clearly recognisable. He aims for its chest, and lets out the breath he's been holding slowly.

Monty squeezes the trigger; the buck of the rifle feeling like the pat on the shoulder of an old friend. Monty readjusts his aim instantly and pulls it a second time, the kill shot.

The two rounds leave the rifle and travel the fifty or so meters the Brute Chieftain has stomped between Spartan 133 and the half mile mark, in 1.296 seconds. The first round finds its mark, dead centre of the large brutes' chest plate, overloading its personal shield and cloaking device with a burst of static charge. Monty has the element of surprise, the chieftain recoiling in the horror of the moment; it raises its head to see what had dealt him the hammer blow that has revealed his location to the elements. It's the last thing this Brute will ever do, as the second round explodes its skull from the forehead up in a splash of red mist. This hulking giants life has ended. Violently. Yellow Teams first kill on this world. It won't be their last.

The "CRACK CRACK" of Monty's first kill is soon drowned out by a sea of angry roars. The brutes, realising they've lost the element of surprise disable their cloaking devises, and charge.

"So predictable" thinks the Sniper and readjusts his aim.

The moving wall of hair, muscle and teeth does not faze the Spartan, Monty is shooting in a target rich environment, and not even a rookie Marine could miss targets in the sheer volume of Covenant facing him. There must be dozens of brutes heading directly towards him, charging on all fours like the Gorillas of old. He fires again and again, still they advance. At least seven bodies are littering the street by the time the rest of Yellow Team shows up.

"Welcome to the party Yellow team" says Spartan 198, still hammering away with his sniper rifle. Swapping out spent cartridges for new ones methodically.

"I sure as hell hope you're saving me some Monty, I've only got a limited range with this thing" Says Michelle, referring to her shotgun, adrenaline and anticipation might as well have been dripping from her armour joints.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty to go around" announces Noah. Standing beside her, rifle raised, Tim bringing up the rear.

"Holy crap that's a lot of Brutes, I can smell them from here", rolling into a crouch position behind a fallen log – strategically placed by him earlier, extending the bipod on his M739 to rest on the dead bark of the old tree trunk.

"Engage at will Yellow Team!" orders the Chief Petty Officer

"You don't need to tell me twice" mumbles Tim, pulling the trigger.