Chapter 40: A Tragic, Yet Ironic Twist of Fate
Holy was taken by surprise as the massive creature plowed straight into him. Though his personal shielding took the brunt of the damage, Holy was knocked to the ground, winded and disoriented. He coughed and gagged, and tried to get up, but Chaos was already moving. He grabbed Holy's helmet with one massive hand smashed it repeatedly into the alley wall. Holy vision blurred, and he could hear warning sirens as his shields failed. Thinking quickly, he reached for his plasma pistol and fired several wild shots into Chaos' gut at point blank range. Chaos roared, more in rage rather than pain, but it gave Holy enough time to break Chaos' grip on his head and wriggle free.
"You surprise me, Elite." Chaos chortled, keeping his distance. "You are more tenacious than I thought. I will enjoy killing you and adding your remains to my host."
Bile surged up Holy's throat just at the thought of that blasphemy. He checked his shield levels, and realized that the shield unit in his armor was smashed beyond repair during the tussle.
"Feeling vulnerable without your precious energy shielding?" Chaos laughed in a mocking tone. "My, you Elites are such cowardly creatures! You contend that you are the smartest, strongest, and most superior race in this galaxy, yet you hide behind your shielding, your armor, and your False Gods!"
Holy tried to fight the bloodlust building up in his chest, but red was beginning to creep in around the edges of his vision and his fists were clenched so tightly that his armored gauntlets began to crack.
"Only our Prophets our false! But Forerunner are as real as you and me, and I will strike you down in their name!"
Holy activated his plasma sword and charged Chaos with a battle cry loud enough to shake mountains. Chaos smiled and flexed his right arm. It burst apart and a monstrous blade of serrated bone rose to take its place. Holy lunged, his plasma sword locked in for a killing strike, but Chaos casually parried it with the air of a person flicking away a fly.
Chaos noticed Holy's apparent surprise and said, "I know all of your little tricks, Elite. I've made a few modifications to this body's bone structure, and added compounds to make it resistant to your vaunted plasma weaponry."
Holy lunged again, plasma sword raised. Both creatures fought with the ferocity of wild animals. Plasma against bone, righteous fury against calculating cruelty. The magnitude of the duel was enough to shake the very foundations of the earth.
Elsewhere"Do you hear that?" Sam asked.
Kumi turned her head. "Hear what?"
"I don't know." Sam shrugged, regretting that she did due to her shoulder wound, "sounds kinda like fighting."
As if to back up her claim, they could hear distant thuds and clanks like two heavy objects repeatedly hitting each other, as well as bloodcurdling roars that would take the fight out of any man.
"Maybe we should get out of here-" Kumi turned back around and immediately stopped.
"What's the problem?" Sam asked, trying to look around her.
"Collete... she's gone." Kumi murmured.
"How's that-?"
"I have no idea."
Marine Convoy"Are you sure you can't reach him?" Karla asked.
"No offense, Cap, but what part of 'no' do you not understand?" groaned Private Wheln, 1st squad's communications specialist. "The radios we've got the best out there. Even with all the electro-interference and the buildings, we should still be getting a decent signal."
"You think it could've been damaged?"
"I don't see how." Even though they were conversing over the radio, Wheln's irritation bled through the speaker as if he were trying to explain astrophysics to a three-year old. "The Mark VII transmitters were built to be tough. I mean, the only way you'd be able to break one is if you hit it repeatedly against something hard, like a concrete wall, for instance."
Dueling GroundsA blow from Holy's fist sent Chaos reeling. He staggered backwards, spat out coagulated blood and some broken teeth, and charged Holy with renewed vigor. Holy backed up and parried Chaos' brutal strikes. Chaos swung his bone-sword in a horizontal arc, in an attempt to cleave Holy's head off, but the Elite quickly ducked and saw his chance. He shoved his plasma sword straight into Chaos' belly and twisted the blade for good measure. The abomination gave an inhuman roar of pain as skin melted and organs boiled. With all his might, Holy tore the sword out of Chaos' gut, spattering the alley walls and floor with steaming entrails. Not one to let up the pressure, Holy charged again, making savage cuts against Chaos' body. The zombified Elite roared in rage and pain as deep gashes began appearing all over his body. His left arm was cleaved off, the top few centimeters of his head burned away, half of his neck torn apart, and his chest was cored like an apple. With damage too grievous for even his undead body to manage, Chaos slumped to the floor, defeated and gasping.
"Now." Holy said grimly, standing over Chaos' ruined body. "I will send your cursed soul back to hell, where it belongs."
Holy prepared for the killing blow, but before he could stab down, he heard several strange popping noises, like firecrackers. Suddenly, pain exploded across his back and Holy collapsed to the ground. As he fell, he could see two human Marines standing behind him. He thought for a millisecond that one of them was Karla, but realized that she was far too young. A relative, perhaps? Holy didn't have enough time to ponder this. He tried to push himself backup, but felt three more sharp stings. His vision was blurring again, his bloodlust and adrenaline was exhausted, and more and more of his lifeblood was draining away.
Before he could even complete his task. The humiliation, the injustice.
Holy gave one last cry of pain and slumped to the ground. All he saw was a growing puddle of blood and booted feet walking toward him. Before he passed out however, he heard a whisper, almost inaudible, as if the air itself were talking to him.
"You have lost this battle, heretic. Where are they?" The whisper cackled, "Where are your gods now?"
Holy then felt himself become swallowed by the growing darkness.
"Nice shot." Kumi whispered as Sam lowered her pistol. "What the hell is an Elite doing here?"
"You know," Sam slumped against the wall, evidentially exhausted. "I think it's safe to say that we're at the point where we don't ask anymore questions about anything."
"Are you sure its dead?" Kumi eyed the Elite's body suspiciously. "I mean, those pistols aren't exactly feared for their amazing stopping power."
"Its dead all right." Sam sighed. "Or at least, it will be in a few minutes."
"It's a lucky thing that we didn't have to fight whatever it was facing." Kumi took a quick glance at the burning remains of Chaos. "I'd hate to go up against anything could fight an Elite to a standstill."
"Yeah, that wouldn't be much fun." Sam covered her mouth and coughed, and noticed with detached interest that her glove was now covered with fresh blood.
"Come on, lets get out of here." Kumi bent down and pulled Sam up. "This is going to attract some unwanted guests."
As they made their way down the alley, neither Marine noticed the strange, ominous shadow that skittered behind them in their wake.
Marine Convoy"Hey Cap." The driver called out.
"What is it?" Karla turned away from her conversation with Paccone to face him.
"Uhh, the sensors are picking up some weird readings. I'm picking up faint chatter from a pair of Marine transponders, and the motion sensors are detecting some anomalous movement just to our east. Not much, but enough to trip the programming." The driver pointed to a faint, green dot.
It was an age-old military dream, being able to have perfect combat awareness in the chaos of the battlefield. Being able to know where you are in relation to the enemy as well as your allies was key to winning any engagement, and much time and resources had been poured into improving it. Motion sensors have actually been implemented for centuries, but the main drawback to them was the fact that motion sensors used to pick up any form of motion. The earliest systems had extremely low movement thresholds, so it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between a battle tank or a falling leaf. Only recently, with the advent of AI and other supercomputing programs as well as more advanced detection equipment, the latest motion sensors such as the Cateye Mark XI could detect movement and assign threat levels to them based on the amount of movement. If it were light movement, such as a loose door or creaky signpost the Cateye would simply disregard the movement and strike it from the screen. If the movement was heavier, the Cateye would assign a red/gold color depending on whether the movement was transmitting a standard Marine transponder signal. Any other types of movement that didn't definitively fit into any of the other three categories was tagged as an "unknown" and given a green color. However, even with this efficient system, the Cateye was not perfect. Smart enemies could usually escape detection by staying low to the ground and moving very slowly, though in the fast paced lightning wars of the modern age, targets moving that slow probably wouldn't be much of a threat anyway. It is rumored, however, that special-forces units like the Spartans are equipped with more advanced motion sensors that can overcome these shortcomings, but most of the rumors are unsubstantiated and nobody has ever bothered getting close enough to a Spartan to ask.
Karla keyed her radio. "Richards, Williams, with me! We're going to check this out."
She heard both Marines affirm her orders, and jumped out of the Warthog. Paccone and Leo both made moves to follow her, but she stopped them.
"Wait here, we can handle this." She said before taking off.
Leo smirked as he watched Karla's figure disappear into the white mist. "She totally hates you, doesn't she?"
Paccone nodded gravely. "Leo, I won't lie to you. If you ever find that girl that's right for you, don't act like a total ass in front of her. But more importantly, don't violate that special trust between you, ever. I've done that once, and, I hate to admit it, I've regretted it for a long time now."
Leo tilted his head curiously. "Speaking from personal experience sir?"
"Nah," Paccone waved the comment off, "Just random ranting from an old guy like me."