The Iron Centurion checked his ammo counter for both weapons. They
were full, good. He watched from the Pelican rear bay as lush grassland
leapt bellow, and a trail of dust rose form the six Warthogs.
Seven SPARTANs and twenty marines consisted the task force. Their mission: Neutralize the Covenant Anti-Orbital cannon. This machine was giving the unlanded fleet hell. The Iron Centurion raised an eye brow under his helmet, watching the UNSC flag flying high from the passanger seat of a Warthog.
"Heads up marines, incoming Covenant flyers," the pilot called. "This may get rough!" the Marines in Pelican let out cries like, "Oh man," and "This is great!"
Four screamers roared over the horizon, followed by six Banshees. The Iron Centurion grimaced as the plasma fire slammed into the Pelican.
The Covenant raced closer, ready to pass and turn. The Iron Centurion jumped, landed with a thud on a Banshee, and removed the pilot.
Within seconds he was engaged in a dogfight. Plasma and bullets rippled the air, tearing down friend and foe alike.
The banshee was smoking, and ready to exploded. With a frown and a quick calculation The Iron Centurion fell from the Banshee. His plumet lasted three seconds.
The Screamer he had caught swung suddenly, surprised by its new burden. The Elite on it tumbled from his perch, smashing into the ground seconds before the Warthog rolled over him.
The Centurion struggled to pull himself up, but failed. With another calculation he leaned what wait he could forward. The Screamer hurtled down at a slant, coming towards the ground.
Running up alongside of a gunnerless Warthog he jumped, caught the side and pulled himself into the Gunner position.
"Show off!" the driver yelled through the comlink. The Centurion smiled. "Forget about calling you the Iron Centurion, call you the Flash Person." The driver continued.
"Shut up and drive Private," he told the Spartan. The person complied with out another world.
"Bravo 5, drop altitiude, that Anti-Orbital cannon has you in its sights, I repeat, drop altitude." The Radio blarred.
"I... hear you... radio di... been damaged..." was the Pelicans reply. The Centurion spun about, noticing the destroyed radio dish atop the Pelican.
"Private, get me in firing range of that straffing Banshee," The Centurion called. The Warthog gunned forward. Taking his time the Centurion placed a barrage of shells into the Banshee.
It dropped like a stone, only to be nicked by the the anti orbital cannon. The Plasma shot destroyed itself and the Banshee in a green flare.
The Pelican dropped altitude within seconds. The Iron centurion noted it was out of harms way, and then continued to gun.
The Anti-Orbital cannon was silent, all its inhabitants preparing their defense. The Iron Centurion laughed to himself.
"JackHammer rockets, fire," he commanded. The shots killed several grunts and and an Elite. The marines charged, and moped the survivors up. The Spartans charged forward as well.
"Area clear," a marine yelled. He then screamed as a Hunter killed him. The hunters bond brother ran forward and was hit with a Rocket.
The Iron Centurion caught the flag as it flew form the dead man's hand. Twirling it with a florish he rammed it through the Other Hunters body, and then planted it, Hunter and all, in the ground.
"Show Off!"
Seven SPARTANs and twenty marines consisted the task force. Their mission: Neutralize the Covenant Anti-Orbital cannon. This machine was giving the unlanded fleet hell. The Iron Centurion raised an eye brow under his helmet, watching the UNSC flag flying high from the passanger seat of a Warthog.
"Heads up marines, incoming Covenant flyers," the pilot called. "This may get rough!" the Marines in Pelican let out cries like, "Oh man," and "This is great!"
Four screamers roared over the horizon, followed by six Banshees. The Iron Centurion grimaced as the plasma fire slammed into the Pelican.
The Covenant raced closer, ready to pass and turn. The Iron Centurion jumped, landed with a thud on a Banshee, and removed the pilot.
Within seconds he was engaged in a dogfight. Plasma and bullets rippled the air, tearing down friend and foe alike.
The banshee was smoking, and ready to exploded. With a frown and a quick calculation The Iron Centurion fell from the Banshee. His plumet lasted three seconds.
The Screamer he had caught swung suddenly, surprised by its new burden. The Elite on it tumbled from his perch, smashing into the ground seconds before the Warthog rolled over him.
The Centurion struggled to pull himself up, but failed. With another calculation he leaned what wait he could forward. The Screamer hurtled down at a slant, coming towards the ground.
Running up alongside of a gunnerless Warthog he jumped, caught the side and pulled himself into the Gunner position.
"Show off!" the driver yelled through the comlink. The Centurion smiled. "Forget about calling you the Iron Centurion, call you the Flash Person." The driver continued.
"Shut up and drive Private," he told the Spartan. The person complied with out another world.
"Bravo 5, drop altitiude, that Anti-Orbital cannon has you in its sights, I repeat, drop altitude." The Radio blarred.
"I... hear you... radio di... been damaged..." was the Pelicans reply. The Centurion spun about, noticing the destroyed radio dish atop the Pelican.
"Private, get me in firing range of that straffing Banshee," The Centurion called. The Warthog gunned forward. Taking his time the Centurion placed a barrage of shells into the Banshee.
It dropped like a stone, only to be nicked by the the anti orbital cannon. The Plasma shot destroyed itself and the Banshee in a green flare.
The Pelican dropped altitude within seconds. The Iron centurion noted it was out of harms way, and then continued to gun.
The Anti-Orbital cannon was silent, all its inhabitants preparing their defense. The Iron Centurion laughed to himself.
"JackHammer rockets, fire," he commanded. The shots killed several grunts and and an Elite. The marines charged, and moped the survivors up. The Spartans charged forward as well.
"Area clear," a marine yelled. He then screamed as a Hunter killed him. The hunters bond brother ran forward and was hit with a Rocket.
The Iron Centurion caught the flag as it flew form the dead man's hand. Twirling it with a florish he rammed it through the Other Hunters body, and then planted it, Hunter and all, in the ground.
"Show Off!"