UNSC Dominion, Bridge
October 15th, 1527 Local Time, 2552
Richard only allowed himself a moment to breathe, whatever it was that had happened with Curie, it would need to wait until the battle was over. Whether he liked it or not, there was just nothing he could do at the moment. The remaining flying Grimm, particularly the scattered remains of the massive swarm of Lancers, had begun one final attack, a desperate bid to sweep away the last line of defenders over Argus. With the Atlesian forces all but destroyed and forced into the reserve, only the UNSC remained in the skies to dance with the Grimm.
Lord knows the Atlesians put up a fight… Richard solemnly thought, the destroyed remains of two Atlesian Cruisers, a Colossus, and dozens of smaller Gunships now littering the area around Argus, a testament to the valiant struggle that the Atlesians had put up in defense of their city.
And yet, victory was now within their grasp. As far as Richard could tell, this was the last of the Grimm in the air, if they were killed, the UNSC would be free to focus their attention on finishing the battle on the ground. But the sudden strike of the Lancer swarm had proven that the Grimm had the ability to bring up reinforcements without warning, and Richard was consciously aware that it could happen again.
"Lancers have closed to two-hundred meters off our port side." Lieutenant Chen warned. "They're launching something!"
Acid. Richard recognized. He felt no impact throughout the Dominion as the globs of bright orange fluid impacted into the Dominion's Hull, but he hadn't expected too. The kinetic force wasn't what made the acid dangerous, it was the corrosive effect.
Although Richard couldn't actually see the point of the impact, the Dominion had countless instruments dedicated to judging the damage dealt by enemy weapons, so the crew weren't entirely blind. "Bradford, damage report!"
Once again, his Executive Officer came through with a speedy reply. "All impacts hit the Dorsal Hull, around the MAC system. Armor in those sections is holding strong, but it'll be vulnerable to more strikes."
Richard turned to face him directly, erasing all evidence of doubt from his features. "Could they penetrate the armor if they hit it again?"
"There's no reason to assume they couldn't, but they would need to focus on one point," Bradford answered.
Goddamnit, they don't even need to break the armor. Whatever they can weaken, we can't replace! Richard thought, painfully aware of the lack of any UNSC drydock on Remnant, or even a sizable titanium industry. Whatever wounds the Dominion suffered at Argus would likely remain largely unfixed for some time. "Alert Damage Control to standby status, we might need them if this keeps up."
"Aye Sir." Bradford replied. He did an admirable job of hiding his concern, but Richard could tell that beneath his stony exterior, he was just as worried as Richard was.
He spared a glance back at the holotable, wondering if Curie could perhaps spare something to help the gunnery crews in their efforts to hold the Lancers back, but discounted the thought after only a moment's consideration. If Curie truly had sustained damage, he did not want her doing anything remotely strenuous, even if that meant that the crew of the Dominion were operating on their own. All UNSC equipment could obviously be manually operated, but without the assistance of a Smart A.I, it typically took much longer to complete complex tasks.
Briefly, Richard spared a glance at the status monitor for all of the Dominion's auxiliary craft, almost afraid of what he might see. Thankfully, it seemed that casualties were a bit lighter than he expected, with only four total aircraft shot down, two Hornet VTOL Attack Craft, and both of the Dominion's Sparrowhawks. He resisted the urge to flinch at the loss of the Sparrowhawks, those aircraft were considered costly to produce in UNSC space, it wasn't much of a stretch to write them off as totally irreplaceable.
At least their pilots made it. Richard thought, noticing with a pang of sadness that neither of the Hornet pilots had managed to eject, and were both listed as KIA.
Pretty much every other aircraft in the fight had suffered some sort of damage, except for the Sabres, which had their powerful energy shields to thank for their continued survival. It seemed that overall, however, the UNSC's aircraft performed spectacularly. Richard had been worried about the amount of ammunition that they could carry, but it seemed that his worry had been misplaced.
The Dominion rumbled slightly beneath his feet, shaking him back into the present. He looked to Bradford for an explanation. "Lieutenant?"
"Misfire from Battery Six Sir, it's inoperable, but nobody was wounded." Bradford quickly answered. "Batteries Four and Seven report no ammo left in the autoloaders, they'll need time to bring up more from the magazines."
Richard resisted the urge to rub his temples in frustration. It seemed as if the Dominion was losing her ability to fight, just as victory was in sight.
"Commander, you should pull the ship back." General Ironwood interjected. He was still manning the communications station, coordinating the forces on the ground as they fought to secure Argus.
"We can't." Richard immediately replied. "We've still got hundreds of contacts in the air, the ground forces will be torn apart without us."
"Batteries One and Two have depleted their autoloaders." Bradford warned, only momentarily interjecting before returning to his work.
Ironwood gestured toward Bradford as if trying to prove a point. "The troops on the ground aren't helpless Commander, the situation has stabilized dramatically. They can handle this themselves. That way you could take a minute to breathe, get your ship back into fighting shape."
If he thinks we're not in fighting shape, he's dead wrong. Richard thought. He'd personally witnessed UNSC warships go through ten times what the Dominion was experiencing and come out both intact and victorious.
Richard briefly considered his options, if he was going to finish off the Grimm without significant loss, he would need to use his remaining resources very carefully.
The obvious answer was to stand and fight, cover the ground forces as they finished the fight in Argus. There was no doubt in Richard's mind that the Dominion could certainly keep going, and certainly win, but the damage it would take in the process might cause problems in the future. He wasn't foolish enough to assume that this was the last battle that the UNSC would be forced to fight, and humanity didn't have any other Starships to call upon.
Moreover, if the Dominion's Point-Defense Guns were starting to deplete their available ammunition, it would mean that they would be forced to employ their Archer Missiles as a substitute, which were currently irreplaceable. Perhaps if he could put together some kind of plan to buy the gunnery crews more time to retrieve fresh ammunition from the Dominion's reserves, they could spare their precious missiles, but Richard couldn't think of anything that would do that.
On the other hand, if the Dominion pulled back, the Grimm in the air would probably target the nearer ground forces, which would certainly hamper their efforts, likely inflicting further casualties in the process. There was also the possibility that the Grimm would pursue the Dominion, and in doing so, remove Richard's ability to make a decision of this manner at all.
For a split second, he internally cursed his position of Command, that such a brutal decision had been thrust upon him. Did he risk sacrificing some of his Marines in order to potentially gain a long-term strategic advantage? Or did he stand and fight, and risk the UNSC's capabilities in future battles? Either way, the risk was immense, and there was no time for him to make an informed decision.
His mind flashed with images of failures from his past, despite his best efforts to filter them out. He saw glassed worlds, both by the Covenant, and by atomic fire, always from the viewport of an ONI prowler. For a brief moment, Richard was afraid that he would lose his composure and snap, but with every ounce of his willpower, he snapped himself back into the present, back to the decision he would need to make.
This isn't about you, or the Marines. Richard reluctantly told himself, his gaze steadily drifting towards the holotable. Specifically, the tiny representation of the Atlesian Military base and all of the horrified civilians sheltering inside.
Richard fought the urge to let out a deep sigh. He was well aware that this decision would likely haunt him later, but he'd made countless decisions just like it in the past. "Negative, we're holding our ground. Gage, lift all restrictions for the Archer Missiles and fire at your discretion, prioritize any target that breaks our defensive web!"
"Aye Sir!" Gage replied.
Bradford gave him a silent worried glance, as if to ask if Richard was sure about his decision. Despite his own personal thoughts, Richard gave him a confident nod, which seemed to ease his feelings of doubt. Even if he was deeply conflicted and afraid for the future, he had to put on a show of confidence, if only for the sake of his crew.
You could still run, let the Marines carry the burden. A cynical part of Richard's brain told him, but he banished it into the darkest corner of his mind. He'd left too many people to die in the past, and he'd killed too many others to count, but that didn't mean he didn't have the power to do the right thing now.
Even if he hadn't had the power to do the right thing in the past.
Argus
October 15th, 1540 Local Time, 2552
While the Marines and Atlesians triaged their wounded and cleaned up the remaining Grimm in Argus, Onyx Team took up positions just outside of the Main Gate, acting as a safeguard against any further Grimm reinforcements.
Stationing such a small unit to guard such a critical chokepoint was normally a very bad idea. But with a long line of open sight, long-range weapons, and a narrow corridor to work the Grimm through as a fallback option, Jorge was confident in his team's ability to repel any Grimm attack.
Smaller Grimm would occasionally try to sneak through, but they were all killed with ease. In a way, they reminded Jorge of how the Elites and Brutes would use their Grunts as little more than cannon fodder as they prepared a grander strategy. On a hunch, he decided to examine some of the larger Grimm in the distance, and see if perhaps the Grimm were unintentionally mimicking the tactic.
What Jorge noticed, however, was a strange change in the behavior of the Grimm. The Goliaths that had once been storming towards Argus with a vengeful fury were now holding their position, as if observing the battle. In fact, most of the larger Grimm were now showing some hesitation in their advance, something that left Jorge with a mix of reassurance and worry.
That's strange, I wonder what they're waiting for? Jorge thought.
"Mags, come up here for a moment." Jorge instructed.
The Huntress in question got back onto her feet and made her way to his entrenched fighting position, carrying her truly ludicrous cannon-weapon along with her. But in spite of her unusual appearance, she had proved her value in a fight a hundred times over, and her expertise on the Grimm was invaluable.
Of all the non-military people that Jorge had ever worked with, Mags was potentially the most capable, which was certainly high praise, considering the large number of local forces he had worked with in the past. She reminded him of a lot of the militiamen that he had fought alongside, particularly during the early years of the war, with the rest of the Spartan IIs. She even seemed to have some experience with ranking structures, perhaps hinting at some experience in a military force.
"What's on your mind Lieutenant?" Mags asked as she took up a position next to him.
Jorge pointed at some of the Goliaths in the distance, who almost seemed to be looking back at him. "Those larger Grimm out there, why aren't they attacking?"
She gazed upon the distant black monoliths with a wariness that quickly spread to Jorge. "If I had to guess, they're older, smarter. They know that attacking right now is suicide, what with the Dominion overhead."
Smarter? Jorge noted. He and the UNSC had known that the Grimm could become more intelligent, but this wasn't what they had expected at all. He had been led to believe the Grimm were very animalistic, with the more intelligent of the Grimm simply possessing more apt problem-solving capabilities. Were the Grimm actually capable of complex strategic maneuvers? That would explain why they made such a surprise attack in the first place...
Whatever the case, Mags would likely be able to shed further light on it. "When you say smarter, do you mean that they have some kind of command structure or some sort of overarching strategy?"
Mags shook her head in response. "I couldn't say, but frankly, I wouldn't be surprised. If the older Grimm can command the younger ones… it answers a lot about their behavior overall."
The Commander is going to want to hear about that, I should report it in. Jorge thought. But before he could even switch radio frequencies, Ben called something out over TEAMCOM.
"We've got movement, two o-clock, three hundred meters out." Ben warned, prompting all of Onyx Team back to alert. "Can't get a fix on it, but I'm guessing more burrowers."
Looks like the Commander is going to need to wait. Jorge thought, mildly annoyed at the sudden turn in events.
Ben had placed a marker on the HUD of every squad member who had one, making it easy for Jorge to acquire a visual on what he was pointing out. When Jorge increased the zoom on his visor, he spotted nothing of note at first, before he noticed that the ground was shifting slightly as he continued to observe the point.
"The ground's shifting." Jorge warned his squadmates, confirming Ben's suspicions. "Looks like we're about to get contact, eyes up everyone."
The Grimm that could burrow underground had proven to be some of the most dangerous, if only because it made ambushes practically impossible to predict. Normally, a long line of sight and an advanced motion tracker would mean that Jorge could confidently assume any Grimm approaching would be visible and easy to target. But if they were underground, he simply couldn't predict when they would attack, especially given how fast they moved. It had been that unpredictability that had gotten Corporal Kerry killed, and Jorge was not about to fail anyone else under his command.
He shifted to the Command frequency using his Neural Lace. "Zulu Actual, this is Onyx, do you read?"
It took an extra moment for Lieutenant Clark to respond, and when he did, Jorge could tell he wasn't in the best health. His voice was raspy and weary, and he sounded out of breath, but he still followed proper radio protocol. "Solid copy Onyx, send traffic."
"We have eyes on Grimm tunneling towards our position and need some extra firepower, do you have any assets available to assist?" Jorge said. In the distance, the ground shifted again, this time a few meters closer.
They're going quickly. Jorge realized. Whatever support Clark had to offer, it would need to arrive fast.
"You're in luck, Sierra. Crusader Company just finished clearing out Town Square, I'll send them up to your position." Clark said. "ETA five minutes, and I'll have Warthogs at your position in three, see you then."
There was no better news that Jorge could have hoped for. Crusader Company was composed of all of the Dominion's armored vehicles, and Jorge knew that Scorpions and Grizzlies would have little difficulty killing practically any Grimm. But the Grimm would reach them before backup did and as such, Onyx Team would need to hold out until then.
"Solid copy on all, Zulu." Jorge replied. "We'll hold the door for you."
"See that you do, I have no interest in capturing that wall twice in one day." Clark said before he closed the transmission.
I suppose I can empathize with that. Jorge thought. He had no idea how Zulu Company was faring, but it was safe to assume that they had suffered at the very least moderate losses.
"More movement, twelve o'clock, in the shrubline about half a klick out." Ben announced. "Looks like it's something big, and it's moving fast. It looked kind of tubular, if that makes any sense."
"King Taijitu." Mags interjected. Apparently Ben's description had been enough to at least place a guess at identifying the Grimm. "Kill it before it gets close, at least, if you still have anything left in that Laser of yours."
"One shot, and at that range, it'll hit." Ben replied before he turned to Jorge. "Sir, permission to engage?"
"Denied." Jorge replied. "Reinforcements are inbound, and if that thing's being lazy, let's not encourage it."
The ground shifted again, this time it was about two hundred meters out, and closing rapidly. There was a faint rumble in the ground, although that could just as easily have been caused by the firing of the Dominion's guns into the hilly forests around Argus.
"Lancers, coming in for a run!" Nathan suddenly called out.
Jorge looked upwards to where Nathan had marked on the squad's HUDs. A dozen Lancers were closing in, all of them carrying sacs of acid. The ground rumbled again, this time Jorge was certain that it was the burrowing Grimm causing the sensation, nevertheless, the Lancers took priority.
"Weapons free!" Jorge ordered.
He brought Etilka to bear in the blink of an eye and held the trigger down, creating a familiar rumble in his gauntlets as the recoil-compensation mechanism attempted to keep his aim as steady as possible. High-velocity explosive ammunition impacted on wings, carapaces, and even the face of one particularly unfortunate Lancer, causing the Grimm to scatter as the one that Jorge had killed fell to the ground and dissipated.
While Jorge forced the Lancers to evade erratically to avoid being hit, the rest of the squad began picking off opportune targets. Nathan sniped one out of the air, Ben shot down another with his plasma rifle, and Mags fired some kind of airburst shell out of Tasman, which exploded in the middle of the Lancer's formation and wounded practically all of them. As the last Lancer was killed and began to unceremoniously vanish, Jorge saw the ground shift again, much closer than he had anticipated.
It was a diversion! Jorge realized. "Incoming, burrowers!"
His warning came just in time as the first batch of Centinels erupted from the ground, only to be torn apart by the coordinated fire of Onyx Team. Now that they had won a few skirmishes with the creatures, they understood how the creatures moved, making them relatively predictable. Gaps in armor were targeted with precise shots, meaning that in most cases, the Centinels were typically dead after only a few rounds spent.
In many ways, they reminded Jorge of the Skirmishers that he had fought previously, on Reach and many other planets. They moved erratically and attacked when it was least expected. They seemed to have some vague coordination, but it was nowhere close to the same level that other Grimm like the Lancers or the Beowolves had displayed.
While Onyx Team was busy facing off against the Centinels, Jorge spotted a new movement in the distant shrubline. The King Taijitu had moved out of the shrubline and begun to rush towards the Gate, worse still, it was not alone, as a second emerged from the shrubs to follow the first.
At the same time, the ground parted a small distance away from Jorge, revealing one of the large Spider Grimm that Mags had called a 'Recluse.' Jorge shifted his fire to the closer threat, and much to his relief, his explosive ammo proved exceptionally useful in snapping the armored legs of the Recluse into splinters, to the point where the creature's limbs resembled broken twigs. A long burst into the creature's horrible maw was enough to finish it off, causing it to disappear without too much of a fight.
It seems like explosives tend to do the job best. Jorge noted, as it had only taken a small number of rounds to kill what would otherwise have been a worryingly capable opponent.
A quick glance around confirmed that Onyx Team had finished off the rest of the Centinels, leaving only the King Taijitus as a threat. Ben had also spotted them and readied his Laser to fire.
"Stand clear!" Ben warned as he charged the weapon, and fired a beam of red light through the foremost King Taijitu, reducing it to ash even before it began to disappear. "Laser's out!"
"I'll handle the other." Mags said.
But as she moved to load some sort of special cannonball into her weapon, a blue projectile came racing through the Gate to Argus from behind them, before smashing into the King Taijitu at breakneck speeds, tunneling completely through the Grimm and killing it immediately.
Gauss Cannon. Jorge recognized, even before the Warthog came rolling through the Gate, the barrel of the M68 still faintly smoking. The lead Warthog was quickly followed by two more, one with an M41 Rotary Cannon, and the other with an extended troop bay. The Troop-Carrier Warthog parked next to the position that Onyx Team had established, and a squad of Marines dismounted, led by Lieutenant Clark.
Clark had clearly sustained some kind of wound, judging by the bloody bandage wrapped around his head to cover his right eye. But he still walked over to Jorge's position in spite of the obvious injury. "Sitrep?"
"That was the last of the Grimm over here Sir, the rest of them are staying back." Jorge answered. Even though Lieutenant Clark was technically the same rank as him, his position as acting C.O of Zulu Company left him as the Superior Officer.
"Staying back?" He scoffed in response. "Since when did the Grimm get reasonable?"
"Apparently since they learned that we can beat them." Jorge replied.
"Hmm, quite." Clark half-heartedly replied as he used his set of binoculars to inspect the Grimm in distance. "Okay, here's our plan, we'll move up the Tanks and Cobras to the outskirts here and mop up the survivors, then we'll let the Hornets mop up all those big bastards out there."
"Where do we come into all this, Lieutenant?" Jorge asked.
"Hold here and kill anything dumb enough to get close." Clark replied, before his headset chirped, informing him that someone was trying to talk to him over the radio. "Just a moment."
Jorge gave him a silent nod of compliance as he ran a quick inspection of his Team. Ben was spotting for Nathan as he picked off some of the lingering Lancers in the air, while Kowalski and Peggy were taking the moment to catch their breath. Mags was unashamedly ogling the Warthogs and the weapons systems they carried, even as more began to arrive, followed shortly by the first Grizzly tank.
"Hey, what the hell Sierra, you said there would be bad guys out here!" One of the tankers jokingly complained as they passed by.
It's good to see at least some of the Marines are still enjoying themselves. Jorge thought, before Clark gestured for his attention again.
"Just got off the horn with General Ironwood, he says he needs your team for a Special Assignment." Clark explained.
"What about the rest of the Grimm around Argus?" Jorge asked. He was wary of the Atlesian General, but not unwilling to follow his orders, within reason.
"It's related to that, apparently. Fireball's coming by to pick your Team up, be ready for pickup in three minutes." Clark answered. "Oh, and Lieutenant? Don't worry about us out here, we'll clean up the rest of these things."
Jorge nodded. "Affirmative Sir."
Argus Radar Station
October 15th, 1554 Local Time, 2552
A lone Beowulf leapt past Winter's force of summoned, spectral Grimm, making it only two steps closer before Fairfire blasted it in half with her trusty shotgun. Their mission to protect the ruins of the Radar station had been going quite well.
"Bit off a little more than you could chew, eh boy?!" She taunted at the dissolving Beowulf. Characteristic of the dead, it didn't react. That didn't stop Fairfire from giving a small chuckle, though.
"Stay focused!" Winter chastised her. Even as she spoke, she ran her sword through the shoulder of an Ursa, before using her second blade to finish off the Grimm.
Who puts a sword inside of their other sword? Fairfire thought, before realizing that perhaps that wasn't the most pressing matter at hand.
"More Grimm!" Winter called out.
True to her words, half a dozen Creeps crawled into the clearing through the underbrush. Fairfire killed three of them by slam-firing her shotgun and finished off the wounded survivors with headshots from her pistol. "Clear! Where the hell do these things keep coming from?!"
A Boarbatusk tried to interrupt Winter as she engaged in a heated melee with an Ursa. Without even looking, she summoned a glyph beneath the feet of the Grimm, causing a large icicle to emerge from the ground, impaling it through the torso and raising it off the ground before it died. "They must be retreating from Argus!"
Fairfire backed up to close the distance between her and Winter. "And they're running into us on the way out…"
"Our mission still takes priority, preserve your ammunition, this might get uncomfortable." Winter instructed.
Just as Fairfire finished reloading, another Grimm emerged from the treeline without warning, a Manticore. It was one of the larger Grimm that she'd seen so far, and resembled the mythological creature for which it was named.
At the same time, Winter was attacked by a pair of Lancers from above, which she engaged using her summoned Grimm. Swarms of tiny spectral Nevermores ferociously tore at the flesh of the giant insectoid Grimm, and Fairfire was more than confident that Winter could handle the situation herself.
The Manticore seemed to notice that Winter was occupied and moved to attack her, but Fairfire stood in its way and fired a round of buckshot into its face. One of its horns was snapped off entirely, and its bone mask was cracked and broken in numerous points. One of its eyes went dim, causing it to roar in fury.
The Manticore retaliated by launching what could only be described as a fireball out of its mouth. Fairfire was completely blindsided by the attack and was thrown backwards by the impact of the projectile. Her Aura managed to keep any of the flames from doing anything beyond stinging, but there was no way that Fairfire could handle many more hits like that.
The Manticore rushed towards her on all fours, preparing to pounce and finish her off. As it closed the distance, Fairfire tried to repeat what she had done with the Beringel and tapped into her Semblance. From what she could tell, it seemed to be fueled by some kind of instinct to survive, perhaps a panic-fueled emotion of some sort, maybe even fear. Whatever the case, her Semblance took the reins once more and commanded her to wait until the perfect moment to fire.
She racked the slide on her shotgun, loading a fresh shell, and braced herself into a firing position. Climbing to her feet would take too much time, so instead, she focused entirely on positioning the weapon exactly as her Semblance instructed her too. There was a brief moment of doubt in her mind that a Grimm of that size could be stopped by a single shot. She'd seen Brute Chieftains survive worse and keep fighting, but her instinct to wait remained, as if reassuring her that its plan would work.
The Manticore closed to only a meter away, and Fairfire's instincts told her to fire. Once more, her shotgun released a deafening sound that would normally be expected of a considerably larger gun, and the Manticore's armor and flesh were mangled inwards as the buckshot tore it apart. It was as if the Manticore had been shot at with a Canister Shell from the main cannon of a Scorpion, not something as small as an infantryman's shotgun.
The Manticore dissipated even before it hit the ground, freeing Fairfire to get back up to her feet and check on Winter. It seemed that several more Lancers had joined the fight against her, but Winter had developed a surprisingly effective strategy to protect her from the barrage of acid that was being levied against her. Using deflection Glyphs, she was able to not only protect herself, but attack the Lancers with their own acidic weaponry.
Fairfire drew her sidearm to help pick off the Lancers, but was quickly forced to look after herself as another Grimm descended from above. It resembled a large Nevermore, but possessed a more rigidly-defined raptor-like feet, each of which had four massive talons. It landed on the ruins of the Radar Tower, and stared at her with horrible yellow eyes. A chill ran down her spine in spite of the adrenaline in her veins and her conditioned training, but Fairfire kept her fear under control.
"Corporal, stay back!" Winter shouted. Deferring to the Specialist's greater experience, Fairfire steadily retreated, not stopping even as she fired a pair of shotgun shells at the giant bird, although the range was too great even for a UNSC-made scattergun to do much more than annoy it. "That is an Elder Nevermore, you cannot take that on by yourself!"
Fairfire nodded. She was now standing behind Winter, not taking her eyes off the Nevermore while Winter watched her back against the Lancers. "What's the plan?"
"We can't fight it directly." Winter answered. Even as she redirected the acid of a Lancer back into its face, she spoke as if she was having a calm discussion with a coworker. "It won't attack us, we just need to hold our ground!"
A Creep burst from the treeline, only to be blown into a fine powder by a rapid-reaction shot from Fairfire. "What? Why won't it attack us?"
"It summons Grimm to itself!" Winter explained. Fairfire could tell she was starting to struggle somewhat, so turned around and suppressed the Lancers with her shotgun for a moment, hoping to offer Winter a moment of respite. "Watch my back, I have this under control!"
"Yes ma'am!" Fairfire responded. She turned back towards the Elder Nevermore, and true to what Winter had said, it wasn't attacking. It simply stared at her, with a glare of absolute malice that she had only ever seen in the eyes of Covenant Warriors.
More Grimm began to pour out of the woodworks. Beowolves, Ursas, Creeps, smaller Nevermores, the bat-like Ravagers, and even some kind of hairy ape-like Grimm that reminded her of a Brute. She met all of them with the same response, a blast of eight-gauge magnum buckshot that scattered them to the breeze. But as more Grimm approached and fell before her gun, Fairfire quickly noted a problem that was rapidly manifesting itself.
"Two mags left!" Fairfire called out. "I'm running low with my pistol too!"
"Hold your ground, there can't be many more of these things!" Winter responded as she finally killed the last of the Lancers. She turned her attention towards the Nevermores in the sky, killing them either with Glyphs or with her own summoned Nevermores.
Once again, Fairfire turned her attention to the Elder Grimm, and to her surprise, her Semblance activated once more, this time without her wishing it to. This time, the command it issued her was different to what it had previously demanded of her, and that was to use one of her grenades.
It might be enough to kill it… Fairfire thought, the instinct growing louder in her mind, as if insisting that she follow it's plan, and not Winter's defensive strategy.
Subconsciously, she was aware that this wasn't her own strategic decision, and that her Semblance was now acting on its own and issuing her a set of specific and simple instructions. She fought against it for a moment, before realizing that there was nothing she could do to stop her body from moving to answer the command.
"Winter, I'm throwing a grenade, stay clear of the tower!" Fairfire shouted, even as she primed her frag grenade.
"No, wait-" Winter interjected, but it was too late, the grenade had already been thrown.
The Elder Nevermore didn't even try to move out of the way as the small metal object landed near its feet. Instead, it stared at the grenade, almost curious of what it might do, before it detonated, spraying hot shrapnel throughout the clearing, along with the shockwave from the blast. The Nevermore vanished momentarily in a puff of smoke, and when the smoke cleared, it was gone.
"Ha, suck on that you big-" Fairfire taunted, before all of the energy in her body vanished, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious. She was vaguely aware of Winter calling out to her, but exhaustion overtook her before she could make it out.
Argus Radar Station
October 15th, 1600 Local Time, 2552
Winter exhaled in deep frustration as her only teammate collapsed to the ground face-first from sudden exhaustion. She turned to stab the final Nevermore out of the air as it made the fatal mistake of trying to strike at her, and briefly sprinted so that she was standing over Fairfire.
"Get up!" Winter commanded, but received absolutely nothing in a way of response. She gave Fairfire a brief shake by grabbing her shoulder, but again, the Helljumper did not respond.
Even without further examination, Winter recognized what had happened. Fairfire had made an age-old mistake and overused her Semblance. Countless Specialists-in-training had made the same mistake of assuming they could handle their own Semblance as soon as they learned what it was, and it seemed that despite her alien nature, Corporal Fairfire was no different. A brief examination of Fairfire's Aura confirmed what Winter had suspected, it was completely drained.
Winter sighed with frustration, before something snarled behind her. She turned to see an Alpha Beowolf emerge from the Treeline, flanked by perhaps a dozen more. She took a defensive stance against them, placing herself between them and her unconscious teammate.
A pack, they'll have more in the trees. Winter realized, but did not feel any fear, she had taken on worse odds and won before. Still, if she didn't conduct herself properly, this would be her last battle, and Fairfire's as well. She briefly considered using her radio to double-check when reinforcements would arrive, but there simply wasn't enough time.
Her biggest concern was that she had been extensively using her Semblance in the fight earlier, meaning that she would have to use it sparingly, or else she would end up like Fairfire. If both of them were incapacitated, Winter knew that the Grimm would grant them no mercy. She detached her parrying dagger from her main blade, she would need to strike quickly to keep the Beowolves away.
The lead Beowulf howled a command to its subordinates, and as they charged forward, Winter rushed forward to meet them. She met them with a whirlwind of steel and Dust, limbs were severed and flew into the air, followed into the air by the heads of their previous owners. In the span of three seconds, half of the creatures lay dead and dissipating, and the rest retreated back towards their leader.
Winter took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths as the Alpha stared her down, presumably wondering how it was going to kill her. The rest of the wolves looked up at the leader, and Winter realized that perhaps the fight would be a bit more evenly matched if the Grimm had no Alpha to lead them. She briefly weighed up her options, and swiftly recognized that she would need to use her Semblance if she wanted to kill the Alpha from afar.
But as Winter positioned herself to summon a Glyph, her foot bumped into something, Fairfire's shotgun. As the Alpha stared her down, seemingly coordinating some sort of strategy with it's pack via snarls and barks, Winter remembered just how powerful Fairfire's weapon had shown itself to be, even at range.
Seeing the opportunity that had presented itself to her, she sheathed her dagger back into her blade and collected the Helljumper's Firearm with her newly freed hand. She used her sword hand to grip the slide and used her other to hold the grip, finger on the trigger. She wasn't a stranger to using firearms, all Specialists were trained to be familiar with standard Atlesian Military firearms, but she'd just never had the same attachment to them that other people seemed to have.
She aimed the weapon at the Alpha, braced for the inevitable recoil, and fired. Thankfully, Fairfire had left the weapon in a ready-to-fire state, and the bore of the weapon spat out a spray of buckshot, accompanied by a now-familiar loud boom. The recoil was surprisingly intense, and the weapon shook from Winter's untrained grip. Nevertheless, the shot was not a particularly difficult one, and WInter had managed to deliver a wad of buckshot into the Alpha's under-armored midsection, splitting it in half.
With their leader now dead, the remaining Beowolves charged in a wild, uncoordinated rage. Winter racked the slide, took aim at the closest one, and fired again. Now that she knew what to expect, the recoil was far easier to manage, and the Beowulf dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap. She racked the slide again, took aim at the next one, and pulled the trigger.
Only to be met with an unhappy clicking sound from the weapon, the ammo was depleted.
Winter quickly cast aside the shotgun and steadied her grip on her sword. The Beowulf leapt at her, and she caught it on the end of her blade, killing it immediately. A swift dashing of Fire Dust at close range left the final Beowulf ablaze and panicking, before Winter finished it off with a jab to the skull.
As the last Grimm fell to the ground and began to disappear, Winter heard a hack and a cough from behind her, Fairfire must have woken up.
"Ah, good, you're still alive, despite your best efforts." Winter said as she turned around, not hiding any of the disapproval in her voice.
After a few deep breaths, Fairfire got back to his feet and replied. "Ah, you almost sounded worried there for a second."
"You did knock yourself out in the middle of a fight, I'm amazed you're awake at all." Winter said. "Can you fight?"
"Oh yeah, I've had drops that were way worse than that." Fairfire replied, even as she clutched at her side.
She slowly and steadily walked over to where her shotgun lay on the ground and retrieved it. "Huh… thought I had this thing loaded."
"I had to commandeer it, if you care to knock yourself unconscious again, please have the decency to leave your weapon fully loaded first." Winter explained.
Fairfire chuckled as she reloaded the weapon. "You see? I told ya you needed a shotgun."
"I wouldn't have if you had stayed on your feet." Winter chastised. "Don't lean on your Semblance so heavily, you won't just strain your Aura, you'll strain your body."
"Hey, it acted on its own that time!" Fairfire protested.
"Did it?" Winter asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.
Fairfire remained silent as she realized what she had just said, and the gravity of what had just happened settled on her. "...Oh shit! I… I could've shot you!"
"You very well could have… but you didn't, and I think I know why." Winter replied.
She'd kept a close eye on Fairfire throughout the entire mission, not just because it was her duty to watch over her teammate, but because she was able to decipher to a greater extent what exactly her Semblance was. She had already assumed it to be some sort of reaction-based Semblance, but now, she had a greater degree of evidence. Fairfire looked at her, and even through the opaque visor, Winter could tell she was desperate for an answer.
"There's a pattern behind everything that's triggered your Semblance." Winter pointed out. "A charging Beringel, a Manticore threatening to strike you down, an Elder Nevermore summoning more Grimm down upon us… even a lowly soldier that you thought had killed innocent people, what did they all have in common?"
Fairfire thought all of it over, and eventually, voiced the same conclusion that Winter had reached. Her voice was raspy, perhaps even a bit haunted as she spoke. "They were the enemy, they were a threat."
"Or at least, that's how you interpreted them. So your Semblance took action, even if you didn't want it to." WInter added. She felt that Fairfire had already learned that what she did in Atlas was a mistake, and now, she understood why Fairfire had made that mistake.
The roaring of an aircraft's engine drawing nearer and nearer sounded overhead. Winter looked up, and saw a Pelican flying overhead. The sounds of battle from Argus had long since died down, making it easy to hear the dropship coming.
"We'll discuss this later, it looks like our reinforcements are finally here." Winter said.
Fairfire remained silent, staring blankly at the Pelican even as it came in for a landing. From the rear hatch, Jorge and Ben dismounted, followed in turn by the rest of Onyx Team. Winter noted there were two fewer ODSTs than when she had seen them last.
"I see we're a bit late to the party." Jorge noted. "What's the status of the objective?"
"We weren't able to keep everything intact for the investigators, there's some fresh blast marks on the Radar Tower, and the Grimm made short work of whatever defenses were still active." Winter answered. "But most of the evidence is still intact."
Jorge looked over the wreckage behind her briefly, before giving her a firm nod. "Well done Specialist. Stick around with us a moment, your report will have to wait until General Ironwood is done."
Winter raised an eyebrow as the Spartan walked past her. "Done with what, Lieutenant?"
He turned back to her, his visor eerily devoid of emotion as he spoke. "He and Commander Miller are coordinating the effort to find any survivors in the city. He'll be busy for the next few hours."
Survivors? She thought. How badly did the battle go?
He turned back around, with Ben and most of the ODSTs wordlessly following him. Only one of them broke from the formation, Winter was able to distinguish it was Nathan by his green-accented armor.
"Hey Liz, you're out in the field!" He said, running up to Fairfire and coming to a stop as soon as he realized just how still she was standing. "Liz?"
His words seemed to snap her out of her frozen nature. "Huh? Yeah, hi."
He paused for a moment as he processed her response. "You uh, you alright?"
Winter could sense that Fairfire wanted to be left alone for the moment, so she strode over to the two Helljumpers and placed a reassuring hand on Fairfire's shoulder.
"Don't worry Private, she's perfectly fine." Winter interjected. "She's just learning a little bit about her capabilities, and it can be a bit exhausting."
Fairfire latched onto Winter's excuse immediately. "Yeah, don't worry about me Nathan, I'm fine."
Nathan seemed satisfied with her answer, and let out a faint sigh of relief. "Well, it's good to see you back in the field again. Hopefully the Lieutenant will get you back into the team."
"Hopefully." Fairfire softly said, shooting Winter a silent glance of appreciation, which Winter answered with a silent nod. Nathan might've meant well by his gesture of concern, but Winter knew from her own past experiences that sometimes it was best to be left alone with one's own thoughts.
"Come along Marines, let's go see if Lieutenant Jorge needs some help." Winter said, before going to help Jorge and his squad as they catalogued different elements of the crime scene.
Salem's Castle
October 15th, 2002 Local Time, 2552
Salem watched through the last of her Lurkers and Seers as the Dominion lowered to the ground outside of Argus, deploying a large elevator from the bottom of the vessel, which seemed to be loaded with additional troops and vehicles, presumably to help secure Argus's Outer Wall in the event that the Grimm returned. In the distance, the UNSC's infernal aircraft tore away at retreating Grimm, killing droves of them, often leaving nothing in the way of survivors.
Somewhere in the midst of all of the post-battle chaos, Tyrian was likely making his escape, hopefully with some elements of alien technology that Doctor Watts could make use of. She had no doubts that he would escape without issue, leaving her free to focus on the battle as a whole.
"So, did you accomplish what you wanted to?" Watts asked her.
"Beyond my most optimistic expectations." Salem replied with a genuine smile. "Look at the ashes Doctor, the UNSC was clearly not ready for this battle, and Atlas will be licking their wounds for years. This day will send shockwaves throughout Humanity, and we will be in a dominant position to exploit them."
Watts no longer displayed any of the fear he had felt earlier, but Salem could still sense it from him, he had simply grown better at hiding it. Even if she hadn't intended to, she had secured his loyalty even further, just by letting him watch as the Grimm tore Argus to ruin.
"What about Ozpin?" Watts asked. "The UNSC will eventually realize that somebody is pulling the strings to this puppet show, and he'll be there to try to turn them into more of his lap dogs."
"I'm not concerned." Salem bluntly stated. "Ozpin had his chance to secure their allegiance, but then he let them waste their men and material on a pointless battle here, he will find no sympathy from them."
Watts nodded in understanding. "You have a chance to strike now, while the UNSC are crippled."
"Do not be so presumptuous, Doctor." Salem said. "The UNSC will be gathering their strength, securing their position on Remnant."
Now Watts seemed confused. "And you intend to let them?"
"I don't need to destroy the UNSC, Doctor. I only need the Relics, and then I can have anything that I want." Salem pointed out. "What we have done is bought time, the UNSC will regrow their strength, and they will eventually find out about us, and they will retaliate."
"...What then, My Lady?" Watts nervously asked.
"By then, it will be far too late." Salem simply answered. "Go to bed Doctor, Tyrian will be bringing you his trophies soon, and I expect you to examine them to the best of your ability. We may have learned a lot about the UNSC's capabilities today, but we can always know more."
He bowed his head. "You certainly don't have to tell me twice…"
While the Doctor walked away, Salem looked once more at the monolithic alien warship over Argus. In a single day, it alone had killed more Grimm than some nations had throughout their entire existence. If the UNSC could learn from this battle, turn their firepower towards her, could she truly hope to stop them?
"Perhaps." She muttered to herself. "But they will never get their chance."