Chapter Three

Home Sweet Hell

John stood up out of the rubble of Truth's ship. He was now unarmed and his armor was pretty beat up…but he was still alive. He started walking toward what he believed was a Marine post and his foot hit something. John looked down and saw two MA5B assault rifles, fully-loaded…as though they were meant to be there. John, never one to pick apart a miracle, snatched them up and headed toward the post.

The sun had set over the desert before he even got near the area. When he arrived, John was struck dumb. The entire area was litter with Marine corpses and weapons. A downed Pelican had been literally ripped apart and had been sprayed with blood. Even a few decapitated heads were hung on stakes throughout the area. "Damn," John breathed, knowing the Brutes had gone too far. He gripped his assault rifles readily, more than willing to riddle the next thing that moved with bullet holes.

He spent the night in the downed Pelican, though he was keen to leave as soon as he awoke. John knew there would a long journey to a city, in any direction, and walking seemed to be the only option. He started on his way, but then a glimmer of light caught his eye. John headed toward a ledge and saw at least ten Covenant battle cruisers in a parking orbit over the ground. Literally thousands of Brutes, Drones, and Jackals stood in formation around this area. "Oh, hell." John thought as he surveyed the area.

John leapt down to the next ledge and dodged behind a boulder, though he was sure the gleam of his Mark VI armor had been seen. "So much for stealth." He lifted his assault rifles and flipped around to face his foes. The barrels of his rifles met the face of a Marine Sergeant. "Chief! You're back!" The Sergeant cheered. John grabbed the Sergeant and dropped to the ground. A Banshee flew right over them in a way that would've killed them had they not moved.

"Thanks for that, Chief." Sergeant said. "We need to regroup with the rest of the squad." "How many of you are left, Sergeant?" John asked. "Seventeen of us, sir. We had forty-five, originally, but the Covenant forces…let's just say it's been hard."

John nodded, "Let's regroup with your squad, sarge." Sergeant Mendoza – John finally remembered the name – lead him away from the Covenant masses.

Mendoza lead John to a vast depression were there were a frightening number of shot down Pelicans. "We call it the Graveyard," Mendoza said boringly, "Ironic, don't you think, sir?" John nodded absentmindedly, but really didn't care about anything Mendoza said. His mission was to kill Truth, per say the Prophet hadn't been burned in Earth's atmosphere. Though, and this was totally out of character for John (who usually always one to follow orders), the Marines looked like they needed help. Mendoza's group comprised of a bunch of beaten, haggard men who were ready to look Death in the eye and make him blink. "So…tell me what the situation is…" John said.

Over the next hour, Mendoza explained that a majority of the UNSB's land forces had been captured and the aerial forces were only doing slightly better. "As far as we know, we're the only free humans left on the face of the Earth." Mendoza finished. John thought this over for a long moment. If Truth had brought any more troops with him, though John seemed to be the only living thing that survived the crash, the situation here would only get worse. "Do we know of any prison camps around here?" John asked. "Yeah, the Covenant have detention blocks set up to the north and west of here." A Marine nodded. "Looks like we need to get some extra help. To get my mission done." John said. "What's the mission?" Mendoza asked. "I'm going to finish this fight." "You mean the war?" Mendoza asked.

John nodded.

Will the Master Chief and his straggling troops survive the onslaught of Covenant? Is the Prophet of Truth still alive? You shall see in Chapter 5.

NEXT: Bargain With Demons