++August 14th, 1000 Hours++

The massive industrial elevator squeals as the large gears start to rotate and climb ever upwards. I look up the shaft and watch the red warning lights flicker on and off due to the reduced power output of the backup generator. Our total time spent underground was fifty hours. Two days, and some change. To me it feels like longer, and the dream of the previous night still clings to the corners of my mind. It wasn't a restful sleep and even now I feel like going back to bed for another six hours.

I look over at the team as the elevator continues to rise. Viking looks tired as well, but the others seem in good spirits, even energetic. I'm sure the two of us will chipper up when we have something to focus on. Naomi is, as always, an unreadable wall. She shows no signs of fatigue but I'm not sure how much that means. I can't tell if she even got any sleep during our internment below. When I woke up covered in a cold sweat she was already awake with an arm around me in comfort. After I had calmed down she gave me a gentle squeeze, then put her helmet back on and just like that we were back to work. I appreciate the fact she knows when not to pry. Most soldiers do, I guess.

Chance breaks my train of thought and his voice refocuses me on the mission at hand. "Command this is Kilo-Five, do you copy?"

Static. The elevator arrives at the top floor with a 'ca-chunk' of locking gears and we see the remains of the battle that had transpired in the hangar two days prior. Security personnel lay dead behind makeshift barricades cobbled together from shipping boxes, maintenance trolleys and whatever scrap metal and tools could be gathered. One man cradles a satchel charge to his chest, having bled out before he was able to use it. Scratch bends down and removes it, tucking the explosive away into his pack. As we walk past the barricade, Chance makes another call to command as we step over the bullet-riddled corpse of an Elite still clutching the hilt of a power sword. Grunts and jackals litter the hanger, at least four fire-teams worth of Covenant. It had taken them more than they'd bargained for I imagine, but at the end of the day they were victorious.

"Kilo-Five this is UNSC Command, report current position and status."

"Kilo-Five is currently combat ready and waiting for a new task assignment. Reporting failure of previous mission. ODG B-242 is scrapped. We're still on-site, over."

"Roger that Kilo-Five, you were listed as KIA. I'm taking you off the roster and putting you back on active duty. Wait one."

Scratch chuckles. "Always wanted to be a dead man."

"A lot of people are." Wink adds, and Scratch's good mood becomes a little more somber.

"Kilo-Five this is ONI HQ, do you copy?"

Chance hesitates. "Roger, clean copy, over."

"A pelican is enroute, your orders are to fly to New Alexandria. You're looking for Olympic Tower. Currently VIP assets are on-site preparing to evacuate to a more secure location. We expect Covenant strike-teams to hit the area. How copy?"

"Good copy. Kilo-five to New Alex via pelican, secure VIP assets and assist evacuation. Roger."

"Good hunting, Kilo-Five, and good to have you back. Out."

We move outwards onto the landing and loading area for the base, the place where the Covenant had dropped their strike teams via Spirits before.

"New Alexandria, hu?" Viking comments, as each of us scans the sky for the black spec that would be our dropship. "If they're reaching out with Strike Teams there the Covenant haven't lost ground, they've gained it."

"That is correct." Naomi reports. "The Covenant CSO-class Supercarrier 'Long Night of Solace' is still active and has currently retreated into orbit above the planet."

I assume whatever links her armor has to the sec-net has her siphoning after action reports to bring herself up to date.

"The navy hasn't engaged?" Wink asks.

"It appears not. The Covenant have continued to receive reinforcements after the destruction of the UNSC Grafton. A naval engagement was deemed too costly."

"Too costly? What's that supposed to mean?" Viking grumbles. "We're going to lose the planet if we don't actually fight the damn enemy."

"It means that if we fought them now we'd lose." Chance says with an authoritative tone. "They're waiting for a weakness. Just like we would if we were engaging an enemy that outnumbered us. Wait for the right time to strike."

"Or waiting for something else." Wink says coolly.

Just then I spy the incoming Pelican coming in over the western ridge. "Eyes up." I say, pointing towards the growing black silhouette.

Scratch reaches down and fishes a flare out of his pocket. He kneels down and strikes it against the concrete, setting the tip ablaze with bright, red light. Conversation dies down as we wait for the dropship to arrive and land. Once aboard we each take our traditional positions, and Naomi sits down beside me staring rear-ward towards the open back of the pelican.

"Taking you ladies to New Alex, right?" The pilot calls over the coms.

"Yep." Chance says casually, and sits down with a grunt.

"Hey, Pilot-" Scratch starts.

"Mark." The man replies with a chuckle. I feel the Pelican rumble as the large thrusters kick in and propel us upwards off the ground.

"Mark… We've been MIA for a few days. What's the ground war look like?"

"Not great." He pauses, presumably focused on pivoting the aircraft Northward towards New Alexandria. "Covie forces have been trading blows way better than I think command expected. We've had to give up the outer FOBs. I flew evac for Sword base only a day ago."

I sigh, and rest my forearms on my knees, cradling the DMR in my lap. The news isn't welcome - if ONI is starting to lose installations like Sword the situation is probably worse than we know.

"What about New Alex?" Scratch continues.

"City is a war zone." The pilot replies. "We've been evacing civilians ever since Szurdok Ridge but the damn covies are firing on anything leaving the city, civilians or not. Even unarmed shuttles are blown out of the sky. Falcons are doing their best to fly air cover but it isn't pretty. I guess you'll see for yourself pretty soon."

This is the reality of this conflict. A war of extermination, a war for the right to exist. It isn't about combatants or non-combatants, not to the covies. We're all just humans, and a human killed is one step closer to ultimate victory.

"James," Naomi's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. My chest feels tight and I take a deep breath to relieve the tension. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, just eager to get back to the fight."

"Don't worry, we'll make a difference."

I smile. A difference. "Hopefully things go smoother this time?" I joke.

We've been flying steady for almost half an hour when the Pelican suddenly jerks right and I feel the crash-straps holding me to my seat bite into my shoulder. I look around in confusion.

"Shit, we've got bogies on our tail!" The pilot calls over the radio. "Can't shake 'em!" His voice is hard and focused. The ship judders and a blue bolt of plasma burns through the closed back door and shoots up into the ceiling.

Chance hits the release on his harness and stands up, grabbing the handrail to stabilize himself. "Mark, any nearby support?"

"Already tried! Falcons are on their way but it'll be a minute. Brace!"

I grit my teeth as the Pelican jerks left, rolling almost to a 90 degree angle. G's hit my chest as the aircraft pulls into a sharp bank.

"Hold on." Naomi says, and stands up. She grabs her rifle and slaps the red ramp release button. "Pilot, keep steady."

"We'll be a sitting duck!" Mark protests.

The ramp slowly lowers and I see that we're in the middle of the war torn streets of New Alexandria. Skyscrapers and office buildings whip by as the three Banshees scream after us, their unnatural howls filling the air. Naomi raises her rifle, her boots keeping her magnetically locked to the floor of the Pelican, and opens fire.

"Back her up, Kilo-Five!" Chance calls, holding on with one hand and tucking his rifle under his armpit. He opens fire, and we all join in. Each of us takes a position braced against whatever we can find, and dump shot after shot towards our pursuers. My DMR kicks against my shoulder but at this speed and with the Pelican dipping and darting around buildings and crumbled city blocks most of my shots go wide. The smaller Banshees are only a little bigger than a compact car, and hitting them is difficult enough when you're not bumping around.

"Target lock, target lock!" The pilot shouts, yanking the stick to try and avoid the incoming blast. I fall to the ground, holding onto Naomi's leg with one arm as the G's kick in once more. I see the green blast leave one of the Banshee's and trail towards us, curving to match the Pelican's meanurvers. I grit my teeth and the plasma streaks past and hits the side of the Pelican outside of my view. The dropship lurches, dipping to the left, its stubby wings losing thrust immediately.

"Engine out!" Mark calls from the cockpit.

Naomi shifts her position and continues to fire. One of the Banshee's erupts into purple smoke and flame. Whatever the Spartan hit was apparently important, as the fighter drifts sideways before colliding into the side of an office building. A gout of multicolored flames explodes out from the contact point.

"Yeah!" Scratch calls, bracing himself against a seat and continuing to fire at the remaining two targets.

Blue plasma from the two Banshee's main guns starts pelting the back of the Pelican as they react to the threat we now pose. Two bolts impact Naomi's armor, her gold shielding faring into life. I see another stream of fire march its way across the floor and hit Chance in the side of the breastplate. He is sent backwards, and sprawls against the cargo bays' floor. Wink is quickly at his side, grabbing the handle of his chest rig and dragging him backwards to relative safety.

"We're losing altitude!" The pilot shouts.

I feel the Pelican shutter and groan as Mark tries to pull up on the stick in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. The two Banshees split and wave off, not bothering to pursue prey that was clearly already dead. I look out the back and see the office buildings growing taller as the ground gets closer and closer. I start to see street light's and then Naomi is on top of me. I feel her arms wrap around my chest and she pins me to the floor.

"BRACE!" Mark calls over the radio and then it begins.

The first thing is a terrible, bone-jarring shutter as the bottom of the craft makes contact with the pavement. Next the loud screech and groan of metal tested beyond its breaking point. The back of the Pelican drops down hard, and something collides with the left side of the left wing, probably the wreckage of a burnt-out car abandoned on the road. We start sliding sideways and then the tails slam into a building. The impact causes my vision to swim as the craft screams with rending metal. It continues to slide into a sideways position and then the broken wing catches on the road. The dropship starts to roll. The world does somersaults before my eyes, as the ceiling of the cargo bay buckles under the stress. Three complete rotations later and the momentum of the initial crash is spent. A handful of yards later and the wreck comes to a halt with a hiss of cooling engines.

Naomi releases me from her grasp and stands up, shoving a crate that had come loose from the cargo nets above. I hear screaming, and look around. Each of us is scattered, laying in crumpled piles in various positions. Viking is the only one of us who managed to buckle his crash harness in time. I watch him unstrap and collapse to the floor.

"My weapon! Anyone see it?!" He shouts in confusion.

Wink is already trying to drag a limp Chance from the wreckage. "I need help!" She calls, and I crawl forwards before getting onto my feet. I grab hold of Chance's arm and pull him towards the exit.

"Get his gun!" I tell Viking who's looking around aimlessly.

"Where is it!?"

"It's against the seat! Just grab whatever!" I see him nod and bend down, shoving boxes and debris out of the way to try and find a weapon. The screaming is still happening but I can't focus on that now. I focus on dragging Chance. We manage to get him off the ramp and down a pile of rubble caused by the crash.

"Put him on that bench." Wink instructs, and I help lift the Sergeant into position.

Chance starts to cough, and groans in pain. "What happened?"

"I'm going back for Scratch." I say, not waiting for a reply as I dash back to the Pelican. Viking is exiting the back with several weapons slung over his shoulder and a canister of biofoam clutched in one hand. His helmet pans wildly, searching the crash site. "Where's Scratch?" I call.

"He's trying to get the pilot out." Viking says, "Where's the Sergeant?"

"Over there. He might need that biofoam." I point to the bus stop bench where I'd deposited him some ten yards away. I duck down into the rear of the Pelican. At the back of the cargo bay I see Scratch at the door with a piece of discarded pipe in both hands. He has it jammed into the door that leans into the cockpit and is trying to leverage the door open. I approach and grab hold of the other side of the bar, pushing to try and help unstick the door. The screaming must be the pilot, or the copilot. After seconds of shoving with no progress I examine the door. It's bent into the frame, the metal twisted at a strange angle that makes opening it likely impossible without some super human assistance.

"Have you seen Naomi?" I grab Scratch by the shoulder. He shakes his head. "The doors bent!" I point at the frame. "We can't get it open without her."

Just then I hear a pipe burst and a hissing fills the cargo bay. A dull roar fills the air as what I assume was the fuel line catches fire and starts filling the cargo bay with flame.

"We can't stay!"

"Okay…" Scratch says between grit teeth, but shoves at the bar one more time.

"Scratch we have to leave." I pull at the man's arm and after a moment of resistance he relents. As we exit the back of the craft a steady booming, like an impact hammer, fills the air. I look around for the source but can't find anything. "Go check on Chance." I instruct Scratch, tapping him on the shoulder and pointing towards their position. "They need to move him away from the crash before the fuel lines ignite the tanks."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to find Naomi." I move off towards the hammering sound. Around the side of the aircraft I can see the true extent of the damage. The left wing is a mangled, twisted mess, and its engine has a burning hole in the top of it from where the Banshee's plasma cannon hit. The paint has all been scrapped away from the sides and top of the Pelican, revealing a bright aluminum coating beneath the drab green.

"Naomi!" I call out, making my way to the front of the aircraft. I see her blue armor standing at the cockpit, her hand drawn back. She slams a fist into the side of the cockpit and I realize what the hammering sound has been. I rush up to her side, "What are you doing?"

She doesn't answer, and continues to punch at the side of the aircraft. Past the window I can see the pilot, his hand clutching a bloody wound at his neck. The co-pilot is bent over him, trying to work something just below where Naomi is punching. She looks up at me with panicked eyes.

"The emergency release isn't working!"

I eject the magazine from my DMR and stuff it into my waistband, then yank the charging handle a few times. I slam the butt of the rifle against the window, but I know the reinforced glass is likely thicker than I have the strength to get through. Naomi continues to pound her fist against the side where the pins hold the cockpit together. The metal is starting to bend when the fuel lines rupture completely. Flame spills into the cockpit, licking at the copilot's uniform. Mark, the pilot, isn't moving and the hand that was clutching his neck has fallen away.

"No!" The woman screams, frantically pulling the emergency release lever again and again. I slam my rifle against the window with all my strength but it's pointless. Naomi draws her fist back once more but stops and grabs me instead. I look at her faceless visor and the helmet shakes back and forth. I turn back and look at the copilot, at Mark's dead body, figuring in some horrible way I at least owe them that, to at least acknowledge my failure to their faces. She screams, her panicstricken face stained with tears quickly drying in the intense heat as more and more fuel-fed fire fills the cockpit. I turn away and start printing. Just as we clear the distance the fuel tanks explode and the Pelican is engulfed with flame.

We arrive at the squad's position to see Chance standing, propped up against the side of a building with one arm draped over Wink's shoulder. When Naomi and I arrive Scratch takes a step forward, looking back at the crashed dropship. His helmet droops slightly, acknowledging what happened, but he doesn't say anything.

"Sergeant, report status." Naomi orders.

"He's fine." Wink replies.

Chance waves her away, pushing himself off the building with a grunt of pain. "Banged up and bruised, but operational, ma'am."

"Lets get on task then." She says with a nod.

"Roger that." Chance replies, and motions for Scratch to pass him a rifle. He does so, and with a deep breath he racks the weapon and signals the others to fall in. "We've been through worse, Kilo-Five. ODST get the job done. Let's move out. Naomi, you got the navpoint?"

The Spartan nods, and raises an armored hand. "Two miles Northwest. I'll take point."

New Alexandria is in ruins. Cars are stopped in the street, some sporting plasma burns and small caliber bullet holes. Others are husks, having caught fire at some point during the ground war and with no fire response teams still active, were simply left to burn away. Most of the buildings are still intact though, as the Covies haven't been in a position to commence heavy bombing or glassing campaigns. Yet.

As we move through the streets we stay low, moving from cover to cover, keeping our angles secured as we progress ever onwards. Olympic Tower is one of the tallest scrapers in the city, and lies at the end of a main thoroughfare. As we turn onto the boulevard I can see the large structure looming over us like a titan's leg. We're still a mile or so away when Wink breaks the silence.

"Movement, sixty, under the bridge."

We stop and take cover. I look to the right, across the street from our current position. There is a pedestrian walkway that leads up over the boulevard and acts as a bridge crossing between a courtyard filled with now-closed restaurants, and a collection of office buildings. Under the walkway is the entrance to an underground parking garage, where a sign hangs limply from the side of a concrete. It reads 'PUBLIC PARKING.'

"In the garage?" Chance asks.

"Yeah. It was just a flicker."

"I'll make the call." Viking says, clearing his throat. "FLASH!" He bellows across the street.

I press the butt of my rifle to my shoulder and aim at the garage entrance, expecting a hail of plasma rifle fire to answer the challenge. Instead a woman's head pops out from around a concrete pillar and looks towards us.

"What?!" The woman shouts back.

"Let's move." Chance orders. Once more we go from cover to cover until we're across the street and making the last sprint into the relative safety of the garage entrance. I notice immediately that we've stumbled across an impromptu shelter.

It's the woman who stuck her head out before that asks the question first. "You're with the UNSC?" She's dressed in a NAPD riot uniform, the bold, white letters 'POLICE' written across the front of her vest.

"Yes." Chance confirms, though technically that isn't true anymore.

"Oh thank God." She says, letting out a visible sigh of relief. There are five officers in total, each gathered around the entrance to the garage and hiding behind various bits of cover. I notice they've even managed to block most of the entrance off with one of their squad cars. "The squad that was supposed to help us get to an evacuation site were called off on urgent orders. They told us to sit tight here but that was hours ago. I'm afraid if we don't leave soon we'll miss our ride." The other officers nod in agreement.

"Can't do much about that." Chance confesses, "We've got orders to go to Olympic Tower." I notice he sounds more ragged than usual, and his breathing is heavier.

"How many are you?" Viking asks.

"Thirty or forty?" The woman continues. "Not including myself and the other officers. It's all civilians we pulled from the offices around here. People who didn't make it out in time with the main evac transports."

Viking turns to Chance. "We could radio it in, wait here for their evac and then proceed on to the tower. Couldn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes to get a Pelican here."

"We can't wait here." Naomi says over our squad's private comms. "We're already delayed. No time."

Chance nods. "What's your name, officer?"

"Oh, sorry! I'm Julia - I mean Officer Viccars." She strikes a sloppy salute that makes me chuckle.

"Right. Officer Viccars we're going to call in a Pelican for extract. Here, take this flare. Take two officers with you and in ten minutes get on top of that walkway. When you see the dropship pop the flare. Got it?"

"Got it. You're not coming with us?"

"Negative, but don't worry. We came from down the boulevard and we haven't seen any Covenant. You should be safe."

Naomi is already moving to the side, preparing the leave. I fall in behind her, and the rest soon follow. I watch Chance exchange a handshake with Viccars and then we're marching down the street once more.

"Feels weird not being able to help with the evac." Viking comments.

"If you wanted to do that you should have joined the marines." Scratch chuckles.

"I did at first, but I wanted to kick ass instead of kiss ass, so the ODST seemed like a better choice." I can hear the grin in Viking's voice.

"You're a pair of idiots, you know that?" Wink grunts as she hits the side of an abandoned sedan, and props her rifle up on the hood.

"We know." They both reply.

It takes us another ten minutes of carefully picking our way through cars and rubble before we arrive at Olympic Tower. As we're closing in, however, the unique electronic rumble of a Covenant dropship echoes through the buildings. I look up and see the beetle-like hull of a Phantom shoot past us. It arcs upwards towards the top of Olympic tower.

"Double time." Chance says.

As we arrive I see the front of the building has been fortified with sandbags, quick-fabs and what looks like a long range radio tent. Several warthogs with their main guns manned by black-dressed ONI troopers are parked behind vehicle barricades ready to fire on any Covenant force stupid enough to approach via the main boulevard.

"Friendlies incoming." Chance radios as we come out from cover and close in on the friendly position. Once behind the lines we're greeted by a middle-aged man with a thick, broom mustache and matching bushy eyebrows.

"You Kilo-Five? We heard you'd be coming."

"Roger. Sitrep."

"Lower floors are cleared but the Covenant have cut us off about half-way up the tower. They're landing cruisers alongside the building and dropping troops directly in." He points upwards, and I can barely make out the flickering lights of a Covenant Phantom that's pulled up alongside the tower itself.

"They're cutting the building in half," Wink says, "Preventing reinforcements as they push upwards towards the VIP."

"What about evac?" Chance asks.

The man shakes his head. "Pelicans can't get close with all the Banshee's flying about. We're keeping them away from the tower with the Warthogs but the bigger ships are flying right past. I've sent whatever I can up the tower, but I figure anymore and they'll start landing right in front of us and then we'll be caught between a rock and a plasma grenade."

Viking nods, as do I. I think the man's done good for the situation. Without reinforcements options are definitely limited. Good thing we have a Spartan.

"Alright, keep the lobby secured and the Banshees back. We'll break through and get the VIP to the landing pad. Once the Covenant know they've lost their chance, they should pull back enough for us to get a Pelican in here with some Falcons as cover." Chance presses past into the tower itself. We follow.

Inside the realities of the war around the planet could be totally forgotten. The floors are recently waxed and shiny, and everything is clean as can be. The only evidence of something out of the ordinary is the lack of a receptionist behind the main desk, and the collections of stacked supply crates containing weapons, ammo, and whatever else ONI managed to have around for defending the building.

A man by the elevator waves to us. "This way - We've got a foothold on the fifty-second floor."

We pile into the civilian sized elevator, shoulder to shoulder, with Naomi having to duck slightly just to get inside.

"Going up?" Viking asks before thumbing the circular button with '52' marked below it.

"What's to stop the Covenant from cutting the elevator lines?" Wink asks.

"The Covenant did not breach the security offices during their assault. The elevator shafts were sealed on all levels with Covenant activity." Naomi shifts slightly, causing me to press harder against the wall of the cramped box. "Sorry." She says, before continuing. "Even if the Covenant assault teams brought heavy cutting equipment it will take time to open up the blast doors sealing the shaft."

"And they're probably more concerned with using whatever equipment they did bring on the VIP room." Chance adds.

"I would assume you are correct, Sergeant."

I look up, past Naomi's bulky armored shoulder and see the red LED display counting up as we pass floor after floor. Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight. Almost there. Already I can hear the dull crack of arms fire mixed with the strange 'whump' and sizzle of plasma discharge.

"Get ready." Viking says from his forward position, and I watch him try and raise his rifle towards the elevator doors.

The elevator dings, signaling our arrival, and the doors slide open. Viking is first out, with Naomi on his left. Then myself and Scratch, with Wink and Chance following right behind. The hallway itself is a T junction, with three different avenues down which lines and lines of offices can be seen, most having their doors either blown off the hinges or kicked outwards. The hallway around the elevator is a mess of overturned desks and emergency barriers. The same black-armored security troopers are hunkered down, rifles barking madly as they exchange fire in multiple directions. A man with a red stripe along his left shoulder pad is grabbing troopers by their armor and redirecting fire to keep the Elites from gaining ground.

"VIP this way." Naomi states, marching down the Eastern hallway seemingly without a care. She passes the bunkered ONI troopers swiftly and I follow, rifle raised.

The Covenant resistance is light at first. With Naomi leading the charge, the rest of Kilo-Five is open to take shots at whatever enemy forces are returning fire at the armored titan charging towards them. Of course the Spartan does work herself too. I watch Naomi crush the throat of one elite and then empty several shots into another at point blank before continuing as though nothing had happened at all. Room after room it's more of the same. Covenant strike teams are constantly on the move, searching through the hallways, getting thicker and more dug in the closer we get to the VIP safe room. But the ONI security forces aren't slacking either. They're taking the opportunity we're providing to retake most of the floor behind us, and I see several teams moving heavy equipment like rocket launchers into position to repel the other incoming Phantoms.

"Up." Naomi says, kicking open a doorway to a small, plain gray stairwell. A jackal is on the other side, and I fire a round into its kneecap before Naomi crushes its skull with the butt of her rifle.

Several floors later and we're working like a well-oiled machine, gunning down strike teams left and right. I eject a magazine from my rifle and slam a fresh one in just in time to put a clean shot through a grunt's gas mask. Blue blood sprays across the office wall.

"Target ahead." She says.

I look up to see a group of Elites gathered around a wall. They've stripped the covering, and burned their way through layers of mock-wall paneling used to disguise a hidden safe-room. Now they're at the door, and I can see a thermal lance set up in front of it, the bright tip glowing as they cut their way towards their target.

"Shouldn't be too hard!" Wink calls, raising her sniper rifle and firing a shot that sends one of the Elites crumbling to the floor.

I raise my own rifle and pull the trigger. The muzzle flashes bright yellow and white, and I watch the tracer streak through the air but just then a large, dark-gray metal slab suddenly thrusts out from a nearby office doorway. The bullet pings off the thick metal harmlessly and the massive bulk of something deadly follows it. The creature is titanic, even dwarfing Naomi in her power armor so much so that it can barely fit in the hallway, and completely blocks our pathway forwards. I can't even see any flesh, as seemingly every inch of its body is covered in thick, purple-blue armor with a large seven-foot, rectangular shield strapped to its left arm. Its head is short, wide and squat, and is nestled between two hulking shoulders. On its right arm is a green glowing weapon - a plasma cannon.

"Holy shit!" Viking screams, skidding to a halt and falling on his ass.

"Hunter!" Wink yells, bracing her rifle against an overturned trash can and firing.

The bullet hits the creature directly on the head, but merely defects off into the ceiling. The entire squad joins in, pelting the armored hulk with fire that does next to nothing. I watch Naomi dive into a nearby office as the creature raises its weapon and a green glow coats the hallway. A bright bolt of plasma arcs outwards and slams into the wall right next to me. Concrete and wood shards explode outwards and the shockwave sends me to the floor.

"We have to get behind it." Naomi calls.

I crawl forward and look into the office where Naomi had moved to see her bashing her way through the wall in order to get into the next office and flank the hunter.

"We'll keep it distracted!" I say, grunting as I force myself back up.

"Distracted?!" Scratch questions, firing several blasts from his shotgun to no real effect.

The Hunter raises its weapon once more, and the plasma cannon begins to glow bright green with impending release.

"Grenade out!" Chance calls and I see the small green orb sail through the air. It hits the ground just in front of the Hunter, which raises its shield and almost seems to contract inward till only its armored body is exposed. The grenade explodes and shrapnel pings off the armor. The Hunter remains, unmoved by the gesture, but having stopped the firing of its main weapon buying us some time.

"Focus fire on its head! Blind it!" Viking raises his assault rifle and starts firing in bursts, pelting the Hunter's face. I join in, as do the others, and for a moment it seems to be working. Then a spray of green plasma jets out and hits Wink in the chest. Instantly she's thrown backwards from the force of the blast, but I hear her screaming where I'd expect to hear nothing at all.

"I'm okay!" She says after a second, "It hit my rifle!"

I look at the discarded weapon, a melted, mangled mess with its barrel bent. Wink reaches for her sidearm and draws, continuing to fire at the Hunter.

"I've got him." Naomi says, and just then I see and hear the flash of gunfire from the Spartan's rifle coming from behind the massive Hunter.

The creature roars in pain and I grin in triumph. Then I watch with horror as the massive creature raises its shield and moves with incredible agility for its size. It twists around in one smooth motion, the bulky shield scraping the hallway walls, and I see it collide with the side of Naomi's helmet. There is a 'PANG' like a bolt being dropped on a sheet of metal, and the Spartan ricochets off the shield like a pinball. She collides with the opposite wall, crushing it beneath her weight and slumps down. I watch Naomi die and my heart stops beating. The large alien looms over her body, its back facing us now, and I see the mass of orange-red flesh that marks its only true weakness.

"Cover!" Scratch shouts and dashes forwards. He rips something from his pack, something I can't quite make out at first, but I see seconds later is a satchel charge. A high explosive detonation pack used for taking out enemy hardpoints and key structures. I watch the madman sprint forward with all the speed he can muster, closing the distance, and slap the adhesive side of the satchel charge on the exposed back of the Hunter. The alien howls with rage and whirls around. Just as Scratch looks like he's about to get free and clear, detonator in hand, the shield collides with his side. There is a sickening crunch, and Scratch's body is slammed up against the hallway, where afterwards he falls onto the floor in a pile of deformed armor.

"Fuck!" Viking shouts, advancing from cover to pump shot after shot into the Hunter.

I see Scratch's helmet pivot upwards, looking towards our position and his crackled voice fills the comms. "Sor-rry." He says, and presses the detonator.

The hallway erupts with the force of the blast and we're all thrown to the ground. The Hunter is split in half, and most of it is simply vaporized or splattered against the walls and rubble that now surround us. Smoke and drywall dust fill the air, as several of the offices have been devastated by the explosion. A second later the automated sprinklers kick on dousing the area with water.

Viking is the first on his feet, and with rifle in hand he charges forwards. I struggle up, and shoulder my rifle to try and cover him. The Elites that were at the end of the hall appear to have fared no better than us, and are still gathering themselves when Viking arrives. He fires, spraying one with a generous burst, and I manage to put a shot through the cranium of the other. Just like that it's over.

"Scratch!?" Viking calls out, looking around the blast zone for the body.

I see him sprawled out under a pile of wood debris and shredded concrete. "There!"

Chance rushes past me with Wink in tow, and soon we're all trying to uncover the man. "Scratch, can you hear me?" The Sergeant asks, turning the trooper onto his back once we've removed most of the debris.

A moment of silence passes as the true extent of the damage is displayed. The Hunter's shield carved a twelve inch hole through his chest, and probably shredded both his lungs. It's a miracle he was even able to speak. The visor stares upwards and I know in my heart he's gone. I watch Chance move to take his dog tags and I get up to start looking for Naomi. I raise my hand in front of my helmet, wiping the dust and water away from my visor. It doesn't help much, but I see the bright blue of her armor and rush towards her.

"Naomi's here!" I say, grabbing hold of her helmet and trying to remove it. Her armor is blackened from the blast, but all her limbs are still attached and I don't see any visible bleeding. If her neck wasn't broken by the strike… "I can't get her fucking helmet off!" I shout in frustration.

Wink arrives at my side, and her small fingers search the underside of the Spartan's helmet for some form of release. The Spartan's hand lurches forwards and grabs her by the wrist.

"Ow!" Wink cries.

"Naomi! It's okay! It's us!" I shout, pulling her helmet towards mine so she can see.

"What happened?" She asks, grogginess heavy in her voice.

"The Hunter hit you in the head with its shield. I thought you were dead for sure." I'm almost laughing despite the pain that still hangs in my chest.

"Scratch didn't make it." Viking says with a deep remorse coloring his voice.

"I see." Naomi says quietly, and starts to push herself up. I offer her a hand, as does Wink, but she declines the offer and gets to her feet on her own. "Thank you." She says with a nod. "Is the VIP secure?"

I realize I have forgotten about the mission and look towards the door. The plasma lance is overturned, and both Elites are dead. "Looks like it."

"We have to secure the VIP for extract." Naomi shoulders her rifle and marches onwards.

I look at Wink, who gives me a nod, and with a deep breath to calm myself we fall in. Chance gives Viking's shoulder a squeeze, and then they too join us.

The door to the safe room opens to reveal three marines with assault rifles pointed at us. They quickly lower their weapons when Naomi walks into the room.

"Spartan zero-ten, we're here to extract the VIP."

A man with a firm brow, crooked nose and lines covering his forehead. He has short, buzzed hair and a noticeable widow's peak stands up from where he had been seated and gives us all a wide smile. I recognise him instantly as Colonel Urban Holland.

"Damn good to see you, Spartan." He says.

"Colonel Holland I have a Pelican awaiting you on landing pad 12. Please come with us." Naomi turns away, leading the Colonel into the center of our formation. We crowd around, the three marines joining the team, and slowly make our way back through the ruined hallway towards an evacuation pad on the side of the building.

None of us feel much like talking after what happened, and I simply focus on watching for any remaining Covenant forces as we progress to the landing pad. It doesn't take long till we're up another three floors and moving down a final hallway that ends in a double-door exiting out onto a large landing pad. As we step outside we're greeted by a Pelican hovering just above the deck, its engines primed and ready to evacuate the Colonel as soon as he's on board. Just off to the left and I spot two Falcon gunships providing arial cover.

"Sir," Chance says, stopping just before we've arrived at the Pelican's loading bay. "Sir, if I can ask you something, why are you down here planetside? I thought you'd be on the Savannah?"

The Colonel looks Change over for a moment but smiles. "I had to reassign the Savannah to cover a little mission Noble team has been staging above planet. They're giving our Covenant guests a little present and delivering it straight to their precious supercarrier."

"A bomb?" I ask.

"Something like that." The Colonel grins, but a moment later his face goes solem. "Kilo-Five I've been doing this a long time and I recognise what loss looks like. I know you lost big today, but I promise you it was worth it. ODST get the job done, and today that's exactly what you did. Against the odds you came out on top. We're not getting through this war without painful blows, but with people like you under my command - well by God we'll send these alien bastards packing." Holland extends a hand to Chance, who takes it with a respectful shake. "Thank you, Sergeant. Thank you."

The Colonel then breaks the handshake and one of the three marines who have already boarded the Pelican gives him a hand onto the ramp. He looks back at us with a smile. "I'm off to meet with Captain Keyes, you might know him. Especially your Spartan here. I'll tell you what, me and him are gonna have a nice long chat and at the end of it the Covenant are gonna be real sorry they ever came to Reach."

"Sir! Look!" One of the marines points off into the sky.

I follow his finger and squint. In the dense clouds high above there are bright flashes, and a roar like thunder rolls across New Alexandria. Then the clouds seem to bulge downwards, and from the sky bursts a massive object. It takes me a second to realize what I'm looking at as the purple, sleek hull of a CSO-class supercarrier falls from the sky. The huge craft spears dowards, and then its aft section appears next to it. The entire craft has somehow been cut into two and both pieces collide with the planet. Even miles away from the crush I feel the ground rumble with the force of the collision. I patch my helmet into the sec net and all across the planet people are cheering.

"Confirmed, the Covenant supercarrier Long Night of Solace is down! I repeat, the supercarrier is down!"