Tracker jammed the last scarecrow into the dirt, facing to the right of where he was standing as he turned to weave through the mixture of five to seven feet tall sacks of potatoes on a stick. Stopping to slightly adjust and fix the mechanisms on his prostatic, securing his helmet with the closed visor shielding his face from the outside world. As he readied his assault rifle packed with live ammo as he worked out the kinks in his armor before loosening up his muscles.
Standing back a couple of feet he closed his eyes and thought back to that day, the rest of his dream that was always cut out of his memory. A favorite pass time when he has had enough, he looked over all the scarecrows that were spread out in a wide canyon. The positions of large yet not too difficult to move boulders and empty crates, for a marine this surely would have taken hours trying to get everything perfect.
Checking over his shoulder at the position of the last scarecrow that stood in the back, its stick firmly strapped to its arm like so many of the other scarecrows in the front. The red stones being lit up by the now overhead bright sun of Sanghelios, as Tracker checked the crevice up on the ridge that was too far out of throwing reach as Sam smiled and waved down at him. Her combat armor secured tightly around her body, with her helmet secured to her head as she sat back and watched with a pad in her hands. "Frost, begin health monitoring."
Tracker turned his attention back to his little gimmick, pulling out his rifle and popped a cartridge to be replaced and throwing it behind him. As he rolled his shoulders in preparation, closing his eyes and getting back into the head space from back in the day. His breathing rising from a steadied to exasperate as he raised his armored gauntlet and gripping the bottom of his assault rifle and opened his eyes to the battle field, the waves of armored and shielded covenants firing their plasma weapons at him; their horrendous faces roaring at him with rage.
Tracker charged forward and put the barrel of his magnum up into the mouth of one of the elites, pulling the trigger and firing his assault rifle right into the heads of the two grunts charging forward. Ducking behind a wall as he raised his weapon up to the side of his head, clicking the barrel as he looked through the HUD on his helmet he closed his eyes and felt the gentle shaking of the ground. Standing up and blasting a good chunk of lead into the Brute's chest.
Jumping over his cover he slammed the monstrous beast into the ground, firing more bullets before the alien collapsed dead. Turning his head and firing his assault rifle into the energy shields of the elite charging him, ducking out of the way of its energy sword Tracker readied himself to grab his combat knife. But the elite was quicker as it attempted to kill the human, yowling incoherent words as it barely missed the Spartan's shoulder.
As tracker straightened himself he pulled out his magnum and blasted a few rounds into the armor of the titan, it fell back as a group of grunts holding plasma grenades charged the Spartan who rolled back a couple of feet as he aimed for the heads of the kamikaze five foot cannon fodder. Each one collapsing under their weight as their stickers went flying into the sky, one of the elites was making a break for him when neon emerged and fired a couple of rounds.
A blow to the shoulder had him turn in retaliation and fired a single shot into the head of an approaching jackal that had its shield off to the side. Picking up a lid of a disposal bin he tossed it into the head of an grunt, before he pressed forward with his weapon raised up in front of him. firing as many rounds into his opponents as he turned and unclipped his pistol and fired it into the chest of a elite, as a sniper round went straight through the energy shields of the same elite. Snyde had positioned himself up high again, and he waved five fingers down at the Spartans down below.
"Frost, give Commander Tracker a neutralizing controlled shock."
"Yes Lieutenant."
The sharp pain brought tracker back to life, as he fell onto his hands and looked at the decimated scarecrows around him. His heart beats practically were butchering his ear drums now as Sam entered the clearing and held a monitor as she scanned him. "Thought so, your blood pressure is rising commander, you should go rest… it is in your best interest to follow my orders." The Medical Marine instructed as she headed back to pack up her gear.
Charge relaxed his shoulders as he reset his weaponry, looking down at the havoc he had wrecked on the ground. The potatoes that were previously stored inside were now hash on the ground, perhaps less than so in comparison to the much better meal. As he straightened up and headed back towards the camp, his metal boots echoing through the canyon with a little bit of stumble with the man made leg attached to his thigh.
As he straightened himself up and caught up with the Lieutenant who looked up from the pad, her blue eyes shining through the visor of her helmet as she lifted the heavy gear off her head. "You know, there are better ways to…"
"I think this is good enough." Tracker answered, brushing off the marine's advice as he trudged forward with his helmet hiding his expression.
The medic let out a chuckle as she looked up at the towering soldier. "I guess all Spartans are the same, talk less, fight more, go down in a blaze of glory. Well let me tell you this, as the medical commander of our camp it is in my best interest to stop yourself from getting a blood clot." Sam commented as she wacked the end of her pen against the side of the MJOLNIR MIV armor. "You know that there are better and newer renditions of this armor couldn't hurt to make the switch would it?"
Tracker nudged her with his gauntlet as he turned back to stare ahead of him, Sam looked him over from head to toe before turning back to her pad and continuing her work. "You know you can always ask the colonel to give you a time to talk with your team mates, the other marines and ODSTs do not get the privilege to call their families yet… but considering how long you've been registered in the UNSC files…"
Tracker did not respond as the marine looked closer at her tablet, before looking back up at the Spartan's blank visor as it stared out before him. "On second thought, are you sure you don't want to have another go at the scarecrows…?"
Tracker halted as he looked into the camp that was in sight, crouching and pressing his shoulder against the stone at the sight of the four elites in the clearing with swords drawn. Sam ducked down to beside him as she put her hand on his rifle and slowly lowered it back down. "We need to get you out of this, right now!" she murmured before reaching for Tracker's mark IV armor, but the Spartan whacked her arm away and looking back.
The elites had their backs turned to the ridge where the two were hiding, as tracker eased down his rifle he looked at the tent that housed the armory. Looking between the elites and the tent, he grabbed the marine's shoulder. "I need you to go make sure that they are focused on the colonel, I can make it to the armory around back if they don't see me." He instructed,
"I hope you aren't planning anything stupid, but I guess it could work… but you need to come out without your armaments." Sam ordered before shoving his shoulder and skidding down the ridge. Tracker watched her run back to camp before he rolled over to the stone opposite side of him, pressing his back to it and adjusting his tracker to better keep track. Sam's yellow dot skidded to a stop at the edge of the camp, all the marines inside their tents as tracker crept out and slid down on his back to arrive at the bottom.
As he rolled behind one of the UNSC tents he looked over, Colonel Riker's shaved head dawned by his green hat was barely visible behind the armor and build of the elites that were just barely sheathing their swords. But their guards didn't seem to let down, and their positions still flashed red on Tracker's sensors. Finally though Sam's yellow dot arrived at their sides, and Tracker rolled to the next tent and listened in as best as he could.
"I am honoring our deal, what you saw out there could not possibly be from our camp your highness." The colonel spoke with a bit of unease. "I would not bring anything here to spite, or anger you on purpose I swear. What your informants speak of could be an entirely separate division, I cannot account for all sections of the reform groups on this planet need I remind you."
"Is there a problem here colonel? I saw weapons drawn."
"Ah, there you are Samantha," Riker greeted with a cheery tone, "Just the person I was looking for, you have the medical records of everyone in this camp right?"
Tracker looked over his shoulders as Sam was tapping her tablet, before handing it over. "All of it is right there yes sir." She answered briefly glancing in the direction of Tracker.
Riker looked it over before handing it to the elites. "Everything is on there, and should check out."
The largest of the elites ripped it from the man's arms, before tapping its large claws against the screen. Taking advantage of this moment tracker moved towards the next tent down his line of path. As he crept along his senses went off, even though his sensors didn't pick up anything he knew something was near. Ducking into a tent he pressed his back against a crate, the outline of elite emerged from no-where.
Stealthies, one of the worst things he knew of in the covenant. As he leaned over his senses went off again, and rolled to the side as the curtain to the hot sun outside flapped open slightly, there was one right inside now.
Listening to the quiet and faint clanking of the elite's feet, it paced around the tent. Thinking on wit Tracker hastily started to quietly arm his magnum and hold it to the side of his helmet, when the elite's footsteps stopped. What sounded like a comns began to talk with him; the elite grunted words in its native language before its footsteps hastily made their way towards Tracker.
The Spartan held his breath as he prepared to fight, but the open flap in the back opened and closed. His senses cooled down as he dropped his magnum, and peered outside. The sound of ghosts leaving the camp echoed throughout the unsc base. As tracker got up onto his feet, and stumbled a little on his now stiff robotic leg. Stopping to fiddle around with it for a moment, he snuck out back and headed towards the armory.
As he entered the tent he set his assault rifle to the wall, and adding his magnum to it as well. The circular device specifically designed to remove Spartan armor left untouched, as Tracker manually removed his helmet and set it down on his crates.
"Commander Tracker!"
Tracker straightened up into attention as he turned to the colonel who stood waiting for him, arms held behind his back as he approached the side of the Spartan.
"Sir!" tracker addressed his superior and saluting him with one hand.
"At ease Spartan, you sure have been busy." He commented, the smile quickly falling into a frown. "However you are not being just as careful as we would like, I know how much you hate them but our hosts have issues with you just as much. I cannot have you starting another war with these creatures, understood commander?" the colonel sternly stated, as his eyes looked over his shoulders.
"Sir, there…"
"Stealth elites, I know… but that is why we need to be careful. If you are found to be here it will be more trouble than you are worth soldier, I hope you will remember that next time!"
Tracker bowed his head.
"Sir yes sir!"