Co-Authors Note:
Hiya! Here before you sits the final chapter to Echo Halo: Run Alive Through the Light…I put many hours into writing this chapter out…..and I'm sorry it's been forever since you've had anything. But fear not, this chapter will be sure to please.

I've been doing papers for advanced classes, doing projects for nearly every class, homework, senior responsibilities... as well as hunting for colleges… searching and applying for scholarships… visiting colleges…busting my ass to get good grades… and give this a shot: Try finding a job in a down economy……yeah…I kinda' had more important things to do…as you could probably imagine from my lengthy description. Oh, and lets not forget my mom is taking classes…online…and its taking up all of my time that I'd normally be writing.

Oh. Let's not forget I've moved into another house…so everything has not been where it should be.

*huff* Anyways, a LOT of planning went into this chapter, and I hope you will be pleased with it. Well, thanks to you the readers, and thanks to Syxx Fox who let me wrap this story up.

This is the first part of three of the final push…since its over 20,000 words overall, I'm breaking it down for readability's sake. :D

Here is The Final Push part 1!

~Ignorant One aka Matt

Ch. 37 The Final Push (Part I)

1725 Units (Covenant Military Calendar) The Ripper data core, Covenant designated "Vengeance Plateau", Echo Halo, Linksis Dawn System

Only three minutes passed since Zuterio's A.I. started to download the mission vital package, and already everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. "Zuterio!" Yanni, the gold armored Ship Master shouted above the roar of plasma fire, "Bring your rifles to bear on the enemy! I cannot possibly kill them all with a single charge!"

The grey armored elite tore his eyes off of the small monitor attached and raised his plasma rifle towards an on-rushing human Flood combat form, quickly squeezing off multiple rounds; the intense heat searing the putrid green flesh and filling the already choked air with a disgusting smell. He growled and fired off a few more rounds when the combat form didn't drop, the Elite giving a satisfied snort when the enemy combatant toppled backwards.

"Congratulations brother!" Yanni guaffed, sidestepping a Lylatian combat form and spearing it with his plasma sword while sweeping his plasma rifle to the right and letting loose a stream of plasma into a small crowd of combat forms. "That's your one to my twenty-three."

Zuterio didn't dignify that with a response, instead, bringing his Plasma rifle to bear upon a Flood warrior and blasting it to bits until his eyes fully swept over the area; trained eyes clearly picking up nearly thirty bodies. He cursed under his breath when he watched his commanding officer seemingly enjoy himself, darting in and out of the Flood; his plasma rifle and plasma sword flaring to cut down their opposition.

Well, that was until an unannounced wave of Flood burst through the doorway, quickly making the Ship Master's game of skill into a fight for survival; placing his sword onto his thigh and drawing his other plasma rifle. The experienced Elite's reasoning was that even with the immense power of the plasma blade, at the current numbers of the opposition; Yanni knew he would be quickly overwhelmed. The gold clad Sangheli immediately placed as much distance between himself and the Flood while he discharged both weapons rapidly; aiming to thin their ranks before moving back to engage them in close quarters combat and hopefully keep their attention until the package finished downloading.

In an effort to not be worthless, Zuterio raised his plasma rifle and began to pick off the flood that tried to flank his commanding officer; using quick, controlled bursts to systematically dismantle the combat forms. This fighting continued for nearly a minute more, but depending on which of the Sangheli you looked at, it was either a minute in a warrior's paradise or a minute in a technology specialist's night mare. Either a target rich environment or a minute in which you were wondering why the very program you designed to perform quickly was working so slowly.

With the sixty seconds passed, there was a lull in the number of flood in the immediate area, and the fighting ceased; no hostiles showing up on their motion detection systems. The spec ops elite was almost startled when his commanding officer let out a thunderous roar. "That was satisfying, brother!" He yelled, letting his fist rise into the air, "Crushing the parasites into the steel was never so enthralling!

"Would you please cease and desist, Ship Master? I'm supposed to be the battle hungry youngling, and if you keep boasting like that, you'd have this warrior out of a occupational specialty." Zuterio joked, a smirk coming to his face as he watched the gold clad elite come down from Shash'Renar; a euphoric mental state that was common amongst the Sangheli who truly lived for battle.

Yanni let out a shaky breath and shrugged off the chill of excitement that coursed up and down his spine, hefting his plasma rifle and ejecting its spent energy cell through a compartment built into the weapon's hand guard. With a practiced motion Yanni slipped in another energy cell, locking the fuel source down before slapping the compartment shut. While he was at it, he replaced the spent fuel source in his other plasma rifle as well; double-checking his charges and grenades. "I'm 87% combat effective: two full charges, ninety-two percent charge on my plasma rifle, and three plasma grenades."

The gold armored elite looked over his shoulder and stared down at Zuterio. "Report."

"Nintey-three percent combat effective Ship Master: One half spent and two full charges, and four grenades." He replied, looking at his superior.

"What is the progress on the download of the package? We must hurry. The Phantoms will be arriving in less than thirty cycles, and the security teams will be pulling back to the designated way point for evacuation in ten. Time is of the essence, brother." Yanni grunted checking out his surroundings before getting near each Flood and kicking the weapons away from the parasites; firing two super-heated bolts of plasma into their chest cavities to destroy the residing infection forms should any still be alive.

Zuterio glanced at his wrist screen, tapping the holographic screen to bring up the status of the download. He grinned at the results and proudly reported them to his superior. "We're at ninety-seven percent, Ship Master. I estimate we will have the package fully downloaded in about one cycle."

The gold clad elite nodded and turned around kept his eye on the door. However, when Zuterio continued to speak, he didn't turn around. "Continue."

"Well Ship Master, with the firewall already cracked, I can download our enemy's databases regarding their technology. I can also have Lusitia reconstruct their corrupted data files regarding their ship schematics and…maybe even their technologies! With this information, the Covenant could blaze a trail through their forces, cutting them down with impunity-" The excited special ops elite was cut off with a simple dismissive hand gesture.

"We will worry about this information when we have more time, youngling. Or have only three minutes of combat made you forget that doing more than what you are expected too do gets you nowhere? Do I need to sit you up on my lap and tell you my story once more?" Yanni said, a small grin flashing across his mandibles.

The younger elite was about to retort, but when Yanni turned around, the Ship Master carried a determined and stiff air about himself. "We have mission parameters, brother. WE are the success of the mission. If we fail, then it will be an arduous slog through their disgusting ranks in order to get to our objective and claim this long war a victory for the Covenant." He stepped closer and grabbed the grey armored elite by his chest plate and tugged him to his feet with a quick yank; brining his face closer to Zuterios.

"If you sabotage this operation, whether intentionally or not, it will not just go under your record. It will go under my record and the record of all of those serving with us in this mission." He growled and gave the elite a good shake, "The success of this mission is the priority. There is only one thing that matters right now. Its not codes, or weapons specifications…it's the package! The retrieval of this data is a necessity if we are going to over come our adversaries, and if you do anything to jeopardize the success of this mission, I will kill you myself! Are we clear warrior!?"

Zuterio wanted desperately to open his mouth and spout out the significance of their adversaries and their technology, but he realized that if he wanted to advance, he needed this mark on his record to be a good one. And a moment after the fact, he realized that there could be many opportunities to re-capture this data, and in doing so, he yielded, tightening his jaw and nodding. "Understood Ship Master."

"Download of the package is complete Zuterio. Upon safe evacuation, the mission will be considered a success. Please immediately return to the hanger for extraction." A slightly feminine voice spoke up, and the two separated.

Zuterio looked down at the image of his mate back on Sanghelios, and he nodded, disconnecting the wire from the terminal and transferring the data onto a glass cube; lasers etching the codes and information onto the trillions of layers the cube provided. Once the lasers disappeared, he placed the cube into a small case and handed it to the ship master. "Here, the mission is now in your hands, Sir."

Yanni nodded and attached the cube to his belt, and then the elite froze.

His motion tracker screamed of activity, dozens of red blips quickly swarming around the area and heading towards their position. "Quickly! To the waypoint! We have to reach back up if we hope to survive this wave!" Yanni roared, tapping Zuterio before peeling out of the room and sprinting down the hallway which showed the least Flood activity; but that didn't comfort the Ship Master much considering he was still looking at nearly two dozen Lylatian combat forms armed with some strange weaponry.

A quick check of his motion tracker confirmed that Zuterio was indeed following him a few paces behind. The younger elite's presence did nothing to stifle his unease about the situation, but the thought of an additional plasma rifle firing at the enemy was more than enough to bolster his fighting spirit.

Yanni gave a roar as he began to fire at the nearest combat form, the plasma melting flesh where ever it contacted the Flood; the putrid, rotting flesh bubbling and boiling off from the intense heat. Soon after his first volley, he watched as four bolts flew by his left and score hits on the Flood blocking their path. "Very good brother, we're about halfway to the waypoint!"

With that, Yanni drew his other plasma rifle and began to fire at the combat forms threatening the success of their mission using clean, controlled bursts. The grey armored elite followed suit; joining his fire with his commanding officer's to bring down their assailant's numbers before the Flood were within striking distance.

1732 hours, November 2, 2554 (Coalition Military Calendar), Coalition Designated Plateau "Echo-Papa 07", The Ripper, Echo Halo, Linksis Dawn System

"Damage report!" A Major Elite barked his breathing ragged and coarse, the red armored warrior hopping over the group's half-melted barrier to secure any left over weapons and ammunition.

The Elites sounded off their group losses, each Sangheli giving accurate reports as they too started to secure the area. John poked his head out a little bit from his warped cover and watched as the Major Elite stalked to the doorway the Spartan had just come out of not three minutes before. "Ragh! This access was sealed before, who locked this down!?"

"It was Rezkash'r, Major. Unfortunately he has fallen prey to the Flood." A grey armored elite responded, picking up a Combat form's Plasma pistol and checking its charge, "I saw him seal it…and all of us were too busy fighting…it couldn't have been anyone here. There are very few things that can breach our code systems, and one of them is-"

"The Demon…" The major elite hissed between his closed mandibles, readying his weapons and swinging his view all around himself; beady eyes checking for anything out of place since it wouldn't have been impossible for the Demon to be onboard The Ripper. It was, however, a loud hissing sound followed by a loud roar that made all of the surviving Covenant turn around. They saw the Major Elite howling in anger as a blue ball of light adhered to the side of his thigh plate, and that howl was the only thing able to escape his maw before it exploded in a brilliant flash of blue and purple light. It was a plasma grenade.

Immediately the Elites snapped into action and looked around frantically for the source of the assault. "By the Prophets! Where did that come from!?" The next highest ranking Sangheli shouted, pointing both of his newly acquired Needlers in two separate directions.

It was with those words that Spatan-117 rose up from behind the metal table that was once his cover, and pointed both of his SMGs at the nearest elite and fired; the 5mm rounds shimmering off of the Sangheli's already weakened armor.

"It's the Demon!"

In the blink of an eye, the elite unlucky enough to have spoken had nearly sixty rounds pound into his shield, and the glowing barrier collapsed as soon as the hail of bullets began; another twenty rounds chewing the upper portion of the Minor elite's head off. With his remaining rounds, John spent them on taking out their last grunt; purple and blue blood decorating the metallic pillars as the 5mm hollow point rounds tore plenty of holes into the squealing Grunt.

Once the grey armored grunt collapsed onto the floor, the Spartan leapt behind the nearest cover he could find, which at the current moment was a heap flood carcasses. Soon the area around him exploded with plasma fire as the shock wore off of the elites, and he quickly began changing out the spent magazines for two fresh ones; feeling a little more secure when his HUD read that each weapon was fully loaded. With his weapons fully loaded, all he needed was a short lull in their fire so he could move from his cover, which as the moment was currently starting to disintegrate; the smells of cooked, rotting flesh and burnt ozone starting to creep through his filter and choke him.

John thought that it would be best to wait it out, however, the plasma grenade that arced over his cover and landed between his legs thought otherwise. "Chief! Move!" John was more than happy to comply, leaping out of the dilapidated cover in order to avoid being evaporated from the waist down. With just under six feet of space between himself and the grenade, when it went off, the heat from the grenade drained nearly half of his shields.

John could feel the skin blister underneath his armor, but the painkillers that were quickly administered by his suit quelled any major discomfort, so he was then able to focus on the more important things like finding more cover. The Spartan only had a brief chance to glance at his surroundings until nearly twenty bolts of plasma either grazed or impacted against his shield, the warning bell sounding shrilly until it was cut off when the protection system collapsed entirely.

The super soldier immediately returned fire, pointing both of his SMG's at the nearest threat, a purple elite, and pulling the triggers; dozens of 5mm hollow point rounds spewing from each weapon. With both clips half-empty, John watched as his adversary's shield sparkled before collapsing, and he continued to fire; the tiny bullets eating away at the Sangheli's chest cavity and sternum before the Covenant warrior collapsed in a puddle of his own gore. "John!" Cortana squealed, "Get behind cover or else we're both done for!"

Like a good soldier taking orders from a superior officer, John snapped into action, strafing to the left as he emptied the rest of his remaining ammunition into the nearest of the three remaining elites; the grey armored Sangheli's shields sparking but not collapsing. The Spartan attached both SMG's to his thigh plates as soon as he managed to make it behind one of the mess hall's many metal pillars.

He didn't bother to spend his time reloading them, instead he opted to grab his shotgun, grabbing the weapon that was attached to his back and unclasping it; the polymer and hardened steel pump action instrument of death falling into his waiting palm. There was, however, a small problem. The bright blue text on his heads up display that should have read '17' shells in reserve instead read '0', and the ammunition remaining in his weapon read a very unnerving '2'.

"Cortana….? What happened to my shells?" He asked, eyeing his motion detector as the three remaining elites started to flank carefully; two moving around the sides while the third stalked up the center. "It's about ten feet to our left…" John looked over and he did indeed see the jade polymer box sitting out in the middle of the floor; the hatch was completely melted shut.

"How did that happen?"

Cortana frowned, "Well you weren't paying enough attention to our surroundings, and once our shields went down, it was shot off."

"Great." The super soldier muttered, making sure that the safety on his shot gun was off.

"You can still switch to the MA5C, Chief- here they come!" Cortana cried, the AI highlighting the red blip on his motion detector that was coming straight at his position; obviously the center elite grew impatient with the careful technique. John vowed to make him regret that mistake.

As soon as the blip got close enough to his pillar, John leaned out of his cover and leveled the barrel at the elite. The Sangheli had covered so much ground in such a short amount of time that the barrel was almost touching the special operation's combatant's chest armor, and it was too late for the covenant to dodge. The Spartan smirked and pulled the trigger, the weapon discharging its double-ought buckshot into the shields of the foolhardy warrior; the lead-titanium shot mix shearing through the barrier and ripping into the thick flesh. The elite dropped to the floor with a 'thud' while the human soldier ducked back into his cover; eyeing over his motion detector and the blaring blue '1' at the upper left corner of his HUD. "One shell left Chief."

"Don't remind me." He muttered, checking his grenade supplies. 'Hm. Two frags and two plasma grenades left.' He poked his head out of his cover on his right, quickly glancing at the minor elite moving from one over-turned bench to another; always staying behind cover and never exposing himself for too long. 'Apparently this one likes living.' With a quick check to his left side revealed the last remaining major elite doing the same thing, keeping both of his Needlers trained on his position. 'So does this one.'

"Of course they do." Cortana quipped, "They are dealing with the Demon after all. And I'd suggest that you switch to your assault rifle…you might find it easier to reload than to change weapons." Chief shivered a little bit; if there was one thing that he wasn't quite sure he could get used to, it was the fact that Cortana almost always knew what he was thinking. John shrugged it off.

This situation wasn't something he liked. He had only one round left for a weapon that would be a guaranteed one-shot kill if he could get the target close enough, which wouldn't be much a problem with the minor elite, which was closest to him, on his right. However, the major elite on his left posed a much greater threat, and he knew from past experience that full clip of the full metal jacketed 7.62x39 mm UNSC rounds would be just enough to take down his shield, but not kill or even wound the opposition. It was in times like these when you really needed to multi-task. "Grenades." He muttered to himself, looking down at the four grenades dangling from his waist.

"Great idea Chief. I'd suggest that you-" The red blips were almost parallel with his position, and John could hear the elites spring into action simultaneously; two thundering roars coming at him from both sides.

The super soldier unclipped both of his fragmentation grenades and threw them out at his left, hearing the two metal spheres clank against the grated floor before he leapt out of his right side; opting to take the minor elite head on while he hoped that the explosives would take care of the red armored elite. With the blink of an eye, six needles ricocheted off of his body; his shields sparking with a bright green light as the barrier protected him from harm, taking his shields down nearly twenty-five percent. The Master Chief charged at the purple elite, covering three meters quickly, dropping his shoulder to plow into the Sangheli warrior. The grenades exploded simultaneously, and John didn't hear anything from the red warrior as he threw the purple elite down to the ground, placing the barrel against the warrior's chest point blank and pulling the trigger; the double–ought buck tearing through the armor as if it were not even there.

"Chief! Behind us!" Cortana yelled.

John spun around and brought his shotgun the bear like a baseball bat. The red armored elite, much to the Chief's chagrin, was still alive, although barely; his powerful arm raised above his head. Adrenaline coursed through his system, and when 'Spartan time' kicked in, John took a split second to assess his opponent and soon realized why he wasn't dead sooner: the elite's plasma rifle was damaged beyond use, he didn't have any grenades.

However, the most eye catching of the reasons was the fact that the Sangheli had a machete sized chunk of shrapnel lodged in his side just below his armor. John side stepped the elite's strike and brought his shotgun to bear, slamming it into the Sangheli's mandibles; the super soldier heard the teeth clack together and then break as nearly one thousand pounds of human and armor swung the weapon like a batter in the big leagues. The field-grade covenant stumbled to the side before collapsing onto all fours; one of its hands clutching the shrapnel that John was sure the Covenant warrior was feeling. The super soldier held the shotgun above his head and brought it down on the elite's lower back just under the armor. The Major Sangheli's spine cracked with the blow, as well as John's shotgun.

The Chief looked at his weapon; which was now missing its polymer stock and the trigger assembly. "Well….nice going Chief. You could have just shot him in the back of the head and saved the shotgun."

John frowned. "Well I wasn't going to leave anything to chance-"

BOOM!

The Spartan jumped to the nearest pillar he could find as a tremendous explosion rocked the entire ship, light fixture falling from the ceiling as the support pillars buckled and groaned as added stress forced them to bend out of proportion. He was about to ask what had happened, but the AI that resided within his helmet beat him to the punch. "It was a massive explosion, Chief."

The human frowned. "I could have guessed that Cortana. My question is what caused it, and how could this affect the structural integrity of the ship and of the mission."

"I'll get to work on it, you just reload your weapons and mosey on towards the engineering bay…but first stop by the Armory…I have a feeling we might need some big guns."

John nodded and side stepped a falling girder before reaching the doorway on the right hand side of the rectangular room, stepping underneath the protective cowling while Cortana worked to unlatch it. Once the door opened, John reloaded both of his SMG's with two fresh clips before holstering them and drawing his MA5C; favoring ease of use and accuracy over shear fire rate. He would use those once the enemy got too close for comfort and would engage them with plasma grenades and 7.62 mm from afar. "Makes you wonder why they don't allow us hollow-point rounds with these assault rifles doesn't it? They're much more effective than Full Metal Jacketed rounds."

John flicked on his headlamp and eyed the motion tracker as he swept up through the desolate hallway, passing a number of small devices that let of a dull purple glow. "Must be Covenant motion trackers," Cortana said dedicating a sub-routine to find out its purpose before finding it, "I believe they must put these around all possible avenues of attack to give themselves some forewarning about where the enemy will strike."

The super soldier hummed in acknowledgement, stepping over a plasma torched Flood Combat Form's body, following the figure of a handgun painted in yellow and surrounded by black on the walls of the eerie, green fogged corridors. The Master Chief froze when he saw two red blips appear on his motion tracker coming from behind him, and moving at a very quick rate. "Don't worry Chief, they're four floors above us."

John relaxed a little bit and continued onwards, trying to ignore the way the ship groaned every once in a while, moving his pace to a trot as he kept the large caliber weapon pressed against his shoulder. He took a right at the painting and stopped at the door which was labeled in boxy letters; but the yellow and black painting of a fire arm on it labeled it as the Armory. "Cortana…"

"I know, Chief. I'm on it." The door was soon opened within seconds and John stepped through; the door promptly shutting behind him once he passed the sensors. Cortana whistled.

"Wow. This has got to be one of the most extensive onboard armories I've seen on a ship this size before." With a quick glance, John couldn't agree more.

The room was at least a thousand square feet in size, and there were racks upon racks of UNSC weapons as well as a couple of racks of weapons that he saw the lylatian flood wielding before. With the door closed securely behind him, John walked over towards the nearest rack and found that it was chock full of MA5B assault rifles; the larger, sixty round clipped older brothers to his MA5C. While not as accurate, in these close quarters, it was much more valuable to have more lead. Or in this case, jacketed lead, heading down range since with all of the flood, you were bound to hit something. John set his MA5C and both SMG's on the floor along with their ammunition. He had one hundred and sixty rounds of 7.62 in five clips while he had one hundred and twenty left for his SMG's.

He left them on the ground and stalked through the rows of weapons, picking up two M6D pistols, slapping fresh clips into each one before he holstered them. He picked up each clip of ammunition and thoroughly inspected each magazine of the large 12.7 millimeter rounds, making sure that they were all white tipped; meaning small amounts of explosives were packed into the tips of each bullet adding an additional punch to the already devastating rounds.

He ended up with ninety-six rounds between the two weapons, securing them to his armor; this time heading over towards the rifle section again, bypassing the BR55 rifles which were proven to be ineffective against the flood and opted to take up the older MA5B assault rifle. He picked up each magazine and was surprised when he saw that they had green tips on the tip.

John hadn't seen this ammunition since the MA5B was first introduced. Green tip meant a tungsten penetrator in the core of the round, slipping through even the most hardened of armor; all armors except his. This, he was sure, could bring down any elite's shield quickly due to the fact that their armor not only had to stop the full metal jacketed, lead round itself but the tungsten penetrator as well. He loaded himself with six hundred rounds, one magazine in the chamber and nine magnetically attached to his armor.

Satisfied with his weapons load, he walked over to one of the other racks and opened up a large crate, pulling out a bandoleer of fragmentation grenades and slipping it around his waist before securing it, bringing his count to twelve fragmentation and two plasma; fourteen in total. He turned around and paused for a moment. On the very left wall of the armory were rocket launchers and plenty of ammunition, but the one weapon that caught his attention was the six barreled man-portable M-334 mini-gun. "Wow… I haven't seen any of these since the ODST Combat Special Tactics Corp was disbanded." Cortana mused.

John walked over and ran his gloved hands over the gleaming barrels of the weapon. "The M334 Man Portable Mini-Gun, or MPMG: A six barreled, highly accurate electric motor driven weapons system. It has a six thousand rounds per minute maximum fire rate while mounted, three thousand rounds per minute maximum controllable fire rate while being carried with infantry, but the preferred fire rate for ammunition consumption, controllability and maximum accuracy was between six hundred and nine hundred rounds per minute."

Cortana continued with her knowledgeable history lesson as the Spartan-II leaned down to inspect the weapon more closely. "The entire body is made out of hardened carbon fiber composites, and the barrels are made out of naval grade level III titanium; giving it a strong, durable body while keeping it under one hundred pounds including the motor."

With his enhanced strength, John was able to lift the mini-gun one handed, and thanks to its short, twenty-eight inch barrels, he was able to aim it without much effort. He squeezed the trigger, and the barrels spun at an amazing rate, the hum from the barrels quickly filled the Armory and he let off of the trigger; the weapon still spinning for a second or two before stopping. The AI continued, "The motor is driven by a high yield hydrogen fuel cell developed by Armacham Military Applications, and has a charge life of forty thousand rounds."

He pressed another button, and three small legs at the bottom of the weapon fell downwards and locked into place. "This is the M334B model, characterized by the small, twenty-four inch tripod that is built into the bottom; which is also made out of collapsible, naval grade level III titanium."

The Spartan set the mini-gun back on its stand and looked it over one more time. "It was developed in 2515 by Major General Heraldo Riviera for the UNSC Army's Rangers, Green Berets, and for the UNSC Marine Corp's ODST Special Tactics Corp. Throughout its ten years of service, ten thousand of these weapons were produced, of that, all of them have seen combat."

John started to tune out Cortana as her explanation and history of the weapon turned into a tirade, and he focused checking its systems.

"These weapons were praised by their operators for their versatility, reliability, and accuracy. This accuracy was attained by giving each of its six barrels a one:two rifling twist, meaning that for every one inch, the rifling in the barrel made two complete twists. With fifty-six twists throughout each barrel, it puts significant spin on each bullet and gave the round extreme accuracy and stability; making it just as accurate as the longer barreled versions of similar weapon systems."

John checked the feed of the weapon, noting the bullet type, "Hrm. This weapon fires a 6.8 mm round adopted by the US Military at the beginning of the 21st century."

"I'm surprised to see that this thing is configured to fire the smaller, lighter 6.8 mm round versus the 7.62x29 UNSC standard cartridges." The AI said, but John offered his two cents, "Cortana."

"Yes, Chief?"

"I'm very well versed on this weapons system. You can desist with your explanation." The Spartan's monotonous baritone flowed through the helmet speakers.

Cortana sighed, "Allright, Mr. Know-it-all… but how the Cornerians got their hands on this particular weapons system is beyond me. The point is that we actually have one of these, and that we hopefully have the correct ammunition to use it…but first let's get armed and get to work. The galaxy isn't going to save itself."

"Affirmative." John nodded and searched the Armory, and wasn't too surprised when he found a large crate near the mini-gun itself, and he popped it open. Once open, he found what looked to be a large backpack and a little over a dozen of two hundred round ammo cans. The Spartan lifted the back pack, and thanks to Cortana's guidance and access to schematics, opened it up and placed it upside down.

Inside the backpack was a large coil of metal link, "This model can hold two thousand rounds Chief…but the mini-gun has a fire rate of three thousand rounds a minute, so I'm going to tone it down to something a little more manageable…how does six hundred rounds per minute sound?"

The Spartan opened up the ammo cans and started to feed the 6.8 mm rounds into the metal link, pushing them in two hundred rounds at a time, taking great care to link the ammo belts in order to prevent stoppages. After five minutes and ten empty ammunition cans later, John shut the back pack and fed the belt into the mini-gun; having Cortana spin the barrels in order to get a round into the chamber and the weapon ready to fire.

With the lead spitter set up, the super soldier moved his MA5B onto the small of his back and his armor held onto it, allowing the soldier to lift the ammunition pack and sling it onto his back; tightening the quick release straps while Cortana integrated its ammunition counter into his display. "Alright, Chief. We've got guns and grenades…let's say we finish the job here."

John nodded and stood up, taking one last look at the SPNKr rocket launchers before heading towards the door, wishing that there could have been some way he could have taken at least two of the High Explosive Anti-Tank rockets with him. "Uh….Chief?"

"Yes, Cortana, what is it?" He said.

"We've got a lot of incoming." The AI blurted out.

John checked his motion sensor, but nothing was around them for twenty five meters. "Are you sure?" He said, spinning the barrels of the mini-gun to make sure they worked; a little apprehensive about using a weapon that was almost forty years old, despite of how good of a shape it was in. He looked back at the rocket launchers, and then to the door. "How do you know?"

"I've tapped into the Covenant's motion sensor suite…you know that there is almost nothing that can be hidden from me." She giggled a little bit, despite the tense situation. "I'd suggest that you grab a couple of those Jack Hammers and set up shop in the hallway. We probably have about thirty seconds to set up before the Flood starts to mosey down our hallway."

John didn't need any further encouragement. '30 seconds' He rushed to the corner of the room and grabbed a push cart and started loading it with weapons, grenades, and ammunition.

'25' Then he grabbed two Jack Hammer rocket launchers and two more rockets.

'20' The Spartan stopped past the open door Cortana was so helpful to open, and pushed the cart through and set it up in the middle of the hallway.

'15' The Master Chief then poured out the contents of his gathering onto the floor, quickly organizing his weapons and ammunition into which order he would fire them: The SPNKr rockets first, then the two MA5C's he had acquired along with eight clips of ammunition, then another MA5B with six clips of ammunition, and then finally two SMG's with hollow point rounds and four extra magazines.

'10' If anything made it past his initial barrage, then he would have to use his mini-gun.

'5' "Cortana…raise the fire rate on the mini-gun to one thousand rounds a minute."

The AI responded, and John flipped the cart on its side, intent to use it as cover just in case the Flood were to have weaponry; at least he would have some sort of protection. "This build up is exactly like I saw before…I think it's a new tactic John. I saw a similar build up a minute before the explosion… they should now be visible on your motion detectors…Oh…wow…"

The entire first quadrant of his motion tracker was a solid red, meaning that there were so many hostiles that the computing software couldn't discriminate between individual targets. "This won't turn out too well… Cortana? How much 6.8 mm ammunition is left back in that crate? I have a feeling that I might have to use the mini-gun a little sooner than I would have expected."

"Well…from what I saw, we have about three more ammunition cans…so six hundred rounds." She said this with the utmost calm, despite the fact that they could both now hear the Flood thanks to the Mark VII's enhanced audio sensors. "They should be rounding the corner any second…"

John readied the first of the two Jack Hammer rocket launchers and placed it on his shoulder, liking the way that the backpack gave him a stable platform to aim off of as he hunkered down and placed the barrels of the weapon on the cart for added stability. The Spartan could hear the magnifier on the launcher system activate when he placed the cheek plate of his helmet on the activation pad, zeroing in the scope before training his eyes on the dimly lit, green fog filled corridor. "Hold your fire until my mark. One 'mark' per rocket. Understood?"

"Affirmative." The Master Chief responded, waiting to hear the AI's voice.

Soon the Flood appeared from around the corner of the hallway, and despite the low light conditions and the tumultuous fog, he could tell that there were a lot. A literal wall of Flood. John was unable to even give himself a rough estimate of the number of infection, carrier, and combat forms that choked the hallway…and there was another type of Flood that he didn't quite know too well, but Cortana immediately recognized.

"Tank forms! John! Shoot the Tank forms! Mark!" He reacted immediately, centering the rocket launcher's crosshairs over the second Tank in the crowd of Flood; the blast radius was large enough that it was sure to destroy the first Tank that was spearheading the charge. The Spartan-II pulled the trigger.

Fwoosh! One rocket sailed out of the first barrel. The Master Chief watched the one hundred and twenty millimeter High Explosive Anti-Tank rocket stream off towards its target; the small missile cutting through the thick fog that permeated the air. A second and a half later, it impacted its target in a golden plume of fire and fury; the roiling fireball consuming everything around it for eight feet.

"Mark!" Shoom! John fired the second one off at Cortana's command, despite the fact that the smoke had yet to clear; the rocket streaking into the crowd of Flood. It too impacted with an unseen target, and John could feel the shock wave hit against his armor. "Next weapon, Spartan."

John nodded and chucked the empty rocket launcher as far as he could in front of him down the hallway as a symbolic gesture. The Flood weren't that coordinated, so if by any luck, one might just trip on it on their way down the corridor to visit him. He picked up the next launcher tube and aimed it down the hallway.

"Mark!" John fired another rocket without proper target acquisition, but it didn't matter to him because the previous rockets barely put a dent in the wall of red that was registering on his motion sensor. Another explosion and another shock wave let the super soldier know that his rocket had found a target.

"Mark!" Cortana barked once more, and once more John pulled the trigger as the ammunition canister rotated to place a fresh rocket into the chamber; this one firing off into the crowd that was obscured by the smoke and fire caused by the previous three rockets. "Reload this missile tube, Soldier. We have a target rich environment, and you are free to fire at will."

"Rodger that." The Master Chief acknowledged, replacing the rocket canister and chucking the spent canister down the hallway for the same reason he had thrown the first rocket launcher. He fired one rocket, waited a second before firing the second one; tossing the rocket launcher down the hallway. He then picked up the first MA5C and aimed down the hallway, waiting until he could get visual confirmation on the enemy.

John didn't wait because he wanted to see his targets. The super soldier already knew that even if he fired blindly down the corridor he would hit something. Instead, he waited because he wanted to see where and what he should be concentrating his firepower on. He didn't have to wait a split second until combat, infection, and carrier forms burst through the smoke; leaping over what was left of their fallen comrades to mindlessly rush their singular opposition. With thirteen meters between him and them, John began to prioritize.

The infection forms leading the charge were the first to be put down thanks to a well placed fragmentation grenade thrown by the Spartan, taking out the first of many combat forms with it. The Super Soldier aimed at the nearest combat form and squeezed the trigger, sending short, controlled streams of fire, the large 7.62 mm rounds tearing through not only the targeted Combat form, but they chewed into the Flood forms behind them; the heavy bullets making short work of the rotting green flesh.

In the blink of an eye the Spartan burned through the thirty-two round clip, and he quickly snatched up a magazine from the pile he had beside him, reloading the weapon before he began to fire into the crowd. Five combat forms and two carrier forms succumbed to this fresh magazine before it too was depleted, and another was taken from the pile; leaving the human with three clips and a spare MA5C.

Eight seconds pass, and the Flood has failed to make it past the eight meter point thanks to the super soldier's superb marksmanship and superior firepower, but the parasites gain valuable ground when the Spartan is forced to toss his assault rifle over his cover to snatch up his spare, spending its clip before doing the same with his second rifle.

John picked up the MA5B assault rifle and started to put as much lead down range as he could. The sixty round clip of 7.62 mm made it much more viable at sustained fire, and the Spartan carefully swept his fire back and forth; careful to not leave any advancing Flood standing. Accuracy wasn't an issue in this situation as any bullet fired in that general direction found its way into molted flesh and bone.

The fighting was fast and frantic for the Chief, making the most of his 'Spartan Time' in order to repeat the pattern of "fire, spend clip, reload, and fire" efficiently as possible; making sure that no movement was wasted in either reloading or firing.

Soon John was kneeling in brass and spent magazines, a new casing falling into the pile with each quick-silver cycling of the action, a new bullet being loaded into the camber each time to be fired until every round in the magazine was exhausted. The spent clip was dropped amidst the brass with the flick of a switch and was hastily replaced with a fresh one.

It continued like this for nearly fifteen more seconds, which to the Spartan and the AI felt like a life time, until the MA5B ammunition ran out. John tossed a grenade as he picked up the two SMG's, which would be his final line of defense until their ammunition was exhausted, and that would force the last of Spartan to rely on his grenades and on the M334.

With both weapons in hand, John began to fire into the crowd, which was now just five meters away from him; the Spartan burning through the weapons' proffered one hundred and twenty 5 mm hollow point rounds.

Flood choked the corridor, both the functional and the incapacitated.

Their fallen comrades forced the functional Flood to crawl over their dead and wounded; which actually helped slow their advance, giving John a little more room for error…not that the Spatran left himself any. Three seconds and the two clips were spent, the warrior tossing two fragmentation grenades into the crowd to give himself time to reload before he began to fire his freshly reloaded weapons.

Time, for John, had already slowed to a crawl, and every movement, and every action that happened around him was exaggerated; the Spartan-II could hear each and every bullet leave the chamber as a new one was cycled in and could every flash as the chemicals propelled the hollow point rounds to their targets. The Flood were dropping at an incredible rate thanks to continual efforts of the super soldier, but despite the bodies slowing their advance, there really seemed to be no end to the Flood. Clink, clink. His SMGs were empty. He tossed two more grenades and quickly reloaded, bringing them back to bear upon the enemy; dozens of bullets sinking into rotting flesh in the blink of an eye.

"Don't lose hope." He heard a voice speak into his mind, the clear, British sounding accent echoing throughout his senses. Krystal? He thought for a moment before being brought back to his senses by Cortana.

"Chief! Reload!" Two more fragmentation grenades found their way into the crowd and John reloaded, sweeping his fire up and down the corridor to clean up whatever the grenades had missed. One hundred and twenty rounds put down nine combat forms, two carrier forms and a multitude of infection forms; the explosive Carrier forms doing more harm than good since the infection forms they released were quickly trampled over by the advancing Combat forms.

John growled and tossed the empty SMGs aside and tossed two more grenades before bending down to pick up the M334 and activating its built in tripod, setting it on top of the overturned cart; the barrels already spinning. '2000'

Vaughhhhhhmmmmmvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv!!!!!! Filled the corridor, and soon the clatter of empty 6.8 mm casings joined in the chorus; the smaller bullets tearing into the crowd of Flood and penetrating into other targets.

'1934'

Combat Forms disintegrated into pieces of mush underneath the withering fire from the Spartan and the mini-gun, bullets ricocheted off of walls after shearing through many in this target rich environment.

'1845'

The Flood kept coming and coming, more charging down the hallway only to be slowed by their fallen brethren and then cut into ribbons by the amazing fire power that the Spartan had at his fingertips; the super soldier swiveling the six barreled machine of death to pick off any infection forms foolish enough to climb on the walls in order to get to him.

'1789'

Soon the number of combat forms began to wane as the bodies piled up, and the infection forms experienced an explosive growth; the smallest of the parasite soon covering every available inch along the corridor.

'1703'

In an effort to conserve his valuable ammunition, John grabbed at the MA5B assault rifle that was secured to his lower back and began to open up on the infection forms, tossing a grenades to help thin their ranks; reloading as necessary. Soon he had expended three clips of ammo on his own person and realized that there were just too many infection forms to bother with reloading, so he got back on the M334 and began to fire at any and every infection form that he could see. "Is there an end to all of this!?" John growled out in frustration, tossing another fragmentation grenade in order to conserve a little more of the rare 6.8 mm ammunition.

They just kept coming.

Soon their numbers began to increase. For every Flood form killed, three rose up to take its place; mindlessly stepping over their fallen comrades' bodies.

'1509'

"Don't lose hope. It's always darkest just before dawn."

Krystal…? John thought again, his mind a little confused at the vixen's words, but even more confused as to why he could hear her voice. A snap against his leg and a flicker on his shield bar told him that an infection form just burst against his leg. They were getting too close despite his increase in firepower. The Spartan reached down at his hip and grabbed his final fragmentation grenade and tossed it into the crowd; its explosion tearing nearly a dozen Flood into ribbons as well as thinning out the ranks of the infection forms.

'1489'

"Chief! The Flood! I see an end to them on the motion tracker!" John looked down at the corner of his HUD, and indeed the ranks had been thinned out to the point at which his motion tracker could pick out individual targets. John let off of the mini-gun once it reached '1400' and switched back to his MA5B, using it to mop up whatever got close enough. Within seconds, all combat capable Flood were incapacitated with the liberal application of 7.62 mm full metal jacketed rounds, and finally, there was nothing moving in the corridor besides one thing.

John-117.

The Spartan collapsed onto his hands and knees in the extremely large pile of brass casings as the adrenaline quickly left his system; leaving the warrior feeling fatigued and worn out. Cortana whistled and then chuckled nervously. "Wow….heh…all that…and it all took place in two minutes and forty- seven seconds…..this one is definitely going to be put into the recreational hall for frequent viewing….because Chief…you definitely deserve to have some bragging rights."

John didn't really notice it, but he was panting, heavily. It took the Spartan about three minutes to recover from the rush before he gathered himself and stood up, hefting the M334 off of the cart and walking back into the armory; restocking his ammunition and grabbing another bandoleer belt of grenades. He popped open the ammunition cans of the remaining 6.8 mm rounds and restocked the mini-gun until it read '2000' rounds; signifying that it was full.

Once he stepped out of the armory, he started down the hallway, collecting his MA5B from the cart, and after slapping a fresh clip into it and pulling the charging handle he placed it at the small of his back, just underneath the ammunition back pack.

He surveyed the damage.

Nearly one hundred combat forms of all races littered the long corridor along with bits and pieces of Flood that he couldn't identify. The bodies were knee deep as he started to trudge through the mass of rotting flesh that nearly the floor; painting the walls a spectacular array of green, purple, red, and violet blood. He wanted to go around, but this was the only way to Engineering on this floor, so he had to deal. Not to mention that the smell was terrible; forcing John to use his EVA oxygen supply so that he wouldn't vomit while slogging his way through the guts of countless Flood forms.

"I need a vacation."

"You and me both." The AI chirped, her voice sounding a little more optimistic.