This day just kept getting worse and worse, no matter what they seemed to do. A Covenant ship fell out of the sky and unleashed untold numbers of an alien zombie horde, which spread their infection across apparently not only this city but others within a matter of hours. Escape by air seemed to be impossible, given that the spores filled it. Escape by ground seemed improbable, given the vast amounts of hostiles that could have possibly inhabited it.
As if that wasn't bad enough, they thought the underground would better service their escape. Instead they had just crawled into what seemed to be the beginnings of a hive, which could have stretched for miles in any direction. How it had formed so fast was a question not worth asking. How they decided to make use of the storm drains were worth even less.
What was worth asking was how this situation could possibly be escaped.
From around the corner- Also likely to be from the depths of Hell- came a creature that looked downright terrifying.
It had long, somewhat skeletal legs that seemed to have possibly belonged to an Elite at some point, but seemed to have been so deformed and degraded that they had elongated, seeming like the leg bones of some prehistoric beast, which met a very narrow, equally bony waist, which seemed to be composed of three columns. The main "spine," and two pivoting and balancing tendon-like parts.
The waist connected to a large, bulbous form, the shape of which was best described as mushy popcorn, seeming to be like several large sacs joined together into a hideous, unrecognizable shape. The overall form had the same sickly fleshy color of dead flesh, just as everything else seemed to anymore. There was a cavity in its chest from which innumerable stalks protruded. At a guess, it was at least twelve. That seemed less than promising.
However, despite all these horrific features, the most fear-inspiring were the thing's arms. Rommel estimated its arms at twenty feet in length, give or take... But they weren't arms. They were long, thick, and segmented. Each segment seemed a lot like the vertebrae of a Human spine... And these unnecessarily long limbs ended in a massive, barbed point, reminiscent of a spade.
Its arms were fucking whips.
This eighteen foot tall monster began to close in slowly, sloshing through the murky waters of the dimly lit tunnel. Its whip appendages dragged behind it through the water, flitting and twitching once in a while to reveal the barbed points at their ends, sometimes curling, sometimes coiling. The things Rommel deemed to be sensory stalks lashed wildly, as if it was sniffing at them, trying to get a sense of what they were worth.
On the other side, Findish was being held in place by a corpse. A fly in a spider's web was an appropriate comparison, given that he was caught there with all these blasted parasitic creatures moving in to do their work.
Needless to say, Rommel now regretted the entire plan.
"Get them the fuck off me!" Findish exclaimed again, snapping Rommel back to reality. Miller started to spray the parasites with his submachine gun, and Almec started to focus on the behemoth with what he had. Rommel himself went after Findish, ripping his combat knife out of his chest. He'd done a lot of things with that knife. He'd gutted countless insurgents, slain innumerable Covenant, and used it for so many different utility purposes that it was as much history as it was a weapon. At one point he'd used it to personally decapitate a Prophet.
The weapon was not only a weapon, and not only history... But a symbol of Rommel's full willingness to get down and dirty, and to indulge in the brutality of war. He considered using a blade to be serious business, and so he'd taken it upon himself to ensure he knew how to use it best.
Now was one of those times he needed it as a utility knife again.
"Shit! Don't move, you're just pissing it off!" Rommel yelled, and took up a handful of the tentacle around the man's waist, as close to the base as he could manage. He raised his knife into the air, and brought it down into the tentacle, shearing through the fleshy thing. The remaining bit that was attached to the corpse recoiled, spewing green liquid that he somehow didn't think was blood in all directions. The grip of the others loosened up, and Findish dropped through them and into the murky water.
One of the tentacles made a move to lash out and grab Rommel's left hand, coiling tightly around it. The other went for his right. "Son of a-!" He shifted his grip on the knife, and put all his strength into bringing his hand across to cut through another one. This time the grip didn't loosen, but instead tightened. He used his newly-freed hand to crush the last of them, and then ripped it clean out of the torso.
Now freed from his oppressor, Rommel sloshed through the water, looking for Findish. The man broke the surface a few feet beside him, and even though Rommel was looking for him, he still had the living Hell scared out of him and nearly knifed him. "Get up, get up and fight!" Rommel declared, grabbing the man by the arm and dragging him upward. Findish slung his rifle over his shoulder, and traded it for the M7 he had stowed at his hip.
Rommel at the same time traded his knife for the plasma rifle he had stowed on his own hip.
Taking the shiny blue alien weapon in his hands, the man aimed for the behemoth. It had picked up speed, and was now lashing its arms more wildly, with a clearly lethal intent. It started to emit a low groan, which almost seemed to crescendo into a full-out roar... But then it suddenly changed into a laugh.
The motherfucker was laughing at them!
"You think this is funny you son of a bitch?" Rommel growled under his breath, ripping a grenade out of his combat webbing. The thing started to lash a little more violently. Ten feet. He hit the primer, but held the grenade for a moment longer. It could've lashed out by now if it wanted to, it was toying with them. He was not in the mood for games. Its whips started to make circles as they lashed, deliberately contemplating how it was going to rip them apart. "Well laugh at this, motherfucker! Everybody, down!"
He hurled the grenade with all his might, directly at the stalks that might have been considered the thing's technical head. The M9 HE-DP Grenade wasn't the most powerful explosive on the block... But in an enclosed quarters, it would get the job done. He threw himself under the water and covered his head. He felt, rather than heard, the ensuing explosion.
He felt bits of shrapnel ping off his armor, as well as some fleshy chunks of something. He threw himself above the surface of the water, and found that the air was full of debris. Fleshy bits, smoke, steel, and rock. He couldn't see through it.
And then a whip-like tentacle drove itself through the air, straight at his gut.
He rolled out of the way just in time for the thing to miss him, instead punching through the metal grate he had been laying against. He held up his rifle, and started trying to cycle through his VISR mode. It wasn't picking up the bastard because the entire Goddamn tunnel was registering hostile. He clambered to his feet and pulled the trigger, and hoped that his theory on the plasma rounds was right.
Bolts of blue plasma filled the air, and he could hear some of them making impact with a soft target, as evidenced by the sizzle of burning flesh. He heard the behemoth moan in what sounded like annoyance rather than pain, and ducked as a pair of whipped arms scissored through the air that his head had been occupying not but a second ago. As he saw the smoke clear up, he could see the arms crossing back and forth to make an X-pattern in front of it, which seemed to be more of a defensive position than a preparation to attack.
He continued firing, and suddenly heard another weapon join in. He turned back in time to see Almec, who was using his own rifle to try and bring the monster down.
"Get its attention, I'm gonna blow the fucker apart!" Rommel roared. Dom started to sweep to one side, firing at it. Its arms continued to lash defensively, fast enough to where Rommel almost questioned whether or not any of the shots even got through. More disturbing was that the shots weren't penetrating through its arms. By now, he assumed, they should've dismembered it.
One of the thing's arms coiled back behind it, curling around so as to get as much momentum as possible. The other one thrust out wildly as though to stab Almec. It missed, but it was a ploy. The second arm swung around, carving a wide arc through the air, and moreover, through the walls. The crust on the walls came loose and fell into the water in some areas.
As it had thrust, Rommel had darted forward through the opening. He made a few meters' worth of progress, but had to duck for the arcing blow. Even as he did he knew he had made a mistake, because the first whip was coiled in the air... And came down like a falling tree. He just barely rolled to avoid it.
A shot rang out again, echoing through the tunnels violently. The behemoth's arm didn't come back up, but instead there was a noise that sounded like a cross between a hiss and a roar, the source clearly pain. Rommel broke the surface of the water again- Glad that he didn't have to hold his breath for how many times he'd gone under- and looked up at the monster.
The arm it had lashed out at him with was now detached relatively close the shoulder. The stump the whip thrashed about, spewing brown-green liquid that reminded him of sewage in all directions. He resisted the urge not to dive under again when he was spattered by a good deal of it, if for nothing more than to clean himself up.
There was no time for that, however, as the beast focused itself on what had damaged it so:
Lance Corporal Mark Findish.
The behemoth stomped forward as fast as it could muster- Surprisingly fast, given its size and overall body composition- and damn near trampled Rommel. He continued firing at it even as it did, into its face, its torso, its legs, and then its back once it had passed him. "Goddamn it, fight me!" he shouted. His plea went unheard, and the thing wrapped its arm around Findish as the corpse had earlier.
It began to visibly squeeze, and there was a loud crack as it did so. Findish let out a scream of agony, and there was another pop. He screamed again, but there was only so much that could be done. Rommel got up on his feet again, and had a split second to assess the situation.
Almec was firing at the monster, which just wouldn't die.
Miller was gunning down more of the parasites, which seemed to come wave after wave after endless wave. He would occasionally turn to fire at the bigger one, but his attention was better off not split.
There wasn't a whole Hell of a lot of options.
Rommel let out a roar, and ran as quickly as he could through the high waters. He threw himself at the eighteen-foot-tall behemoth, digging his fingers into the rotten flesh to create his own handholds. It came away in chunks until he finally found a handhold. He put the plasma rifle into the thing's back, and pulled the trigger so hard he thought the weapon was going to shatter in his grip.
The behemoth thrashed under him, but had no way of fighting back. Its tentacled arm lashed backward and unreeled, hurling Findish some twenty feet where he landed with a metallic thump and a loud splash. The tentacle went on to hit Rommel directly in the back. He let out a grunt in pain, but didn't waver.
Something discouraging, however, was that the plasma rifle suddenly stopped glowing. It wasn't burning his hands, so it wasn't overheated. The stupid thing had run out of ammunition before he was done using it. With a loud growl, he used the thing as a burning pitchfork, and drove the two prongs into the juggernaut's flesh. The flesh burned and sizzled, and the weapon sank into the beast.
It lashed harder, and fell to its knees. The creature resorted to a desperation tactic... And Rommel was very nearly gutted. The creature drove its whip through its own waist, and if it weren't for the angle, Rommel would've lost his organs. Instead, the barb glanced off his chest plate, bouncing upward, the segmented arms carving a deep gash in the chest plate.
Rommel hit the ground hard, and checked himself to make sure the barb hadn't actually cut him. It didn't. But his armor was in a desperate need of new paint... And his Totenkopf was all but destroyed.
He got up off the ground, and narrowed his eyes. That really, really, really pissed him off. He could've cared less about the damage, but once somebody touched his Totenkopf or the jaw on his helmet? He was pissed. They had been a gift from his sister when he'd gotten leave, which had been close enough to his birthday to constitute as gifts for the same purpose.
His sister was dead now. Killed by the Covenant.
His armor was one of the few things that he valued in life anymore. It sounded absurd, but he took pride in both the battle damage and the symbolism of what set him apart from the rest. He would not stand for the damage, and he refused to let anyone who damaged it live.
The creature, still on its knees and thrashing wildly, could not apparently manage to dislodge the whip without damaging itself further. Though most seemed to care little for their integrity, this one seemed to be smarter. Its whip retracted slowly, but there was much to retract. He had the advantage here.
A chorus of inhuman wails sounded. Down in the direction that the parasites were coming from, there were several mutant Humans, Elites, and other, less recognizable forms coming straight after them. Maybe a hundred meters, they had some time before they'd get there.
"Miller! Hit it with a thermite charge!" he barked. Miller immediately swapped placed with Almec, with Almec firing at the parasites now. They weren't dying down in numbers, and now they were joined by the regular footmobiles.
Miller ripped a thermite shaped charge out of his combat webbing. Generally they were used for anti-armor or similar roles, and were a Hell of a way to make a statement when breaching a door was necessary. Using them for anti-infantry was generally viewed as a waste. In this case, making an exception seemed like the best thing to do.
So, Miller ran straight up to the helpless behemoth, and jammed the charge directly into the cavity that all the sensory stalks were coming from without hesitation. He hit the primer, and immediately began to jog away. "Almec, c'mon, let's go!" Rommel yelled. The man fired a few more rounds at the parasites, then broke off and followed past the crippled monster. It suddenly began to make loud screeching noises as smoke emitted from the cavity.
Rommel didn't glance back at it, instead picking up speed towards Findish's unmoving form, partially submerged about ten feet ahead of his current position. His vital signs showed he wasn't dead, which was good. The man groaned a little, turning his head to face Rommel. "We gotta get movin', Findish. Up."
The man made a move to get up, but immediately fell back down. He shook his head quickly, taking in breaths sharply, erratically. "Can't... Can't..." he said solemnly, as though it was a death sentence. The thing had broken him in ways they couldn't yet comprehend. Rommel could see that one of his legs was completely crushed, as was one of his arms. His chest plate was equally smashed. "Go, just... Go."
Behind them, the monster stood up finally, pulling its whip from its body. It took a shambling step forward, then erupted into flames. It let out a shrill screech, thrashing wildly, its arms cutting arcs through the air at nothing, only damaging the crust that had formed over the walls, shattering open pods where not fully developed parasites fell out. The walls began to catch fire, and finally the thing collapsed. There was a wall of flame that would keep up for a good while, and keep anything coming after them away.
"No time to argue," Rommel said. He took the man by his good arm, pulling him to his feet. He gave out a sharp cry in pain, and almost fell off-balance due to his bad leg. Rommel wrapped the man's arm over his shoulders, around his neck. "Just don't look at it, keep your eyes in front of us or on me. Whatever you do, don't look at it."
"That... Bad?"
"You'll be fine. Just as soon as we get to Kovcheg. They'll patch you up, and all you'll have to do is relax." Findish gave several heavy coughs that sounded like a wet hacking. His visor suddenly depolarized, and the man looked at him for a moment. The entire lower half of his visor was dripping red with the blood the man had heaved up. Rommel feared for the worst. He'd probably broken more than a couple ribs. If it was dire, he'd gotten a lung punctured.
"Four, up front. Two, keep us covered in back," he ordered. The men didn't hesitate, and the group moved forward quickly. Behind them the roars and screams of a horde just waiting for the flames to dissipate grew louder. Rommel dared not look behind him to see which one would have the cojones to come through first. They didn't care about bullets, he didn't want to know if they weren't smart enough to not charge into the fire... Or whether the fact that they were only being burned on the outside might prove to be a problem.
So they kept on the move for the armory.
After a while, they could see it. Finally, there it was. The door was completely covered in the gunk that coated all the walls, but it was closed. A red light above the door suggested it was locked.
Rommel cleaned off the console using a free hand, briefly considering whether or not the blasted thing would work or if it was too corroded. He also took into consideration the fact that all the water around could potentially be bad for the armory in the event that too much got in. Nevertheless, he keyed in the access code:
[ROMMEL.E.367138(S1)]
The light above the door turned green. Said door gave out a metallic hiss, then opened itself up. Water sloshed around Rommel's boots and in through the door, but he was somewhat pleased to see a second door. It was like an airlock, or close enough. He wasn't sure as to just how pressurized it was, but when the waters filled in this next chamber and didn't visibly continue moving through the door, he decided that they must have been pressurized to some extent.
Everyone moved in, and Almec glanced at a pair of red and green buttons next to the door. He hit the red one, and the door swung itself shut. A set of intricate locking mechanisms activated, and the light above the door went red again. Silence filled the room, apart from the water sloshing as they moved through it to the other door and Findish's occasional grunts of pain. Despite that, the man didn't complain.
Miller hit the green button on the next door. This one swung open as well, and the water around their legs spilled into the room.
Nobody bothered to pay attention to that, however. What was more important was the vast arsenal of weaponry in front of them, across racks and shelves and cases all across the room, with seemingly no end in sight.
Perhaps more important than that was the fact that not even this room was safe from the crust that now coated the tunnel's walls, and that many of the weapons had been overgrown by it.