Disclaimer: Huh? Me? What?
A/N: The Chief has always insisted that the two groups are Fayt's and Maria's group. Well here's a teeny-weeny reminder bozo: its ALBEL THE WICKED'S GROUP! Not Maria's! The wicked boy's back in style.
Chapter 3: Dirge of Cerberus
But while Fayt's group had been kicking ass back on earth, Albel's group had their own worries. Some weird words were blaring on the holographic display screen of their 'Phantom', as the database described it, and sirens were flaring. Although none of the party could read these words, maybe with the exception of Mirage who was trying her best to decipher them, they all understood what they meant.
"Engine's overloading. We're going to get shoved out of Gravitic Warp Space in three…two…one…" Mirage counted down.
A brilliant display of flashing, almost blinding light was accompanied by a great surge forward, throwing everyone off their feet. Crates fell from makeshift shelves; papers, books and maps were flung throughout the cockpit and humans were piled together in a stack of limbs.
"Ouch, what the hell just happened? Since when was exiting Warp Space like that?" whined Roger. The Elicoorian had gotten used to all the high-tech gizmos and terms in the Cosmic era, and even grown fond of them in 4-D space, but this was going a little overboard.
"Since we exited Warp Space in the middle of a battle," was the Albel's answer to the Menodix.
"What the…" Nel leapt to her feet and peered cautiously out the viewing port, only to be knocked back to the floor by the impact of a plasma torpedo exploding meters away from the Phantom.
Struggling, Maria managed to drag herself into the pilot's chair and strapped herself in. Then, the wild and desperate attempt to evade any incoming projectiles began.
It was fairly easy though, with the larger capital ships ignoring the small Phantom totally, and the smaller fighters looking towards the huge cruisers and carriers for more glorious and lucrative kills, the only things Maria had to dodge were stray shots, which were, thankfully, few and far between.
That is, until Roger, too small for the safety belts to hold down efficiently, was flung out of his seat yet again, slamming into Maria's back.
This small accident had near-catastrophic repercussions. Lurching forward, Maria subconsciously pressed the button on the joystick.
The button that controlled the Phantom's plasma cannons.
To make matters worse, as though by sheer lack of luck, another fighter flew into the path of the blasts, and was reduced to space junk in a fiery display of power.
Ever had the feeling that the whole world stopped at that instant to look at you? The party certainly did. And it really didn't help that this whole world was armed to the teeth, and brimming with the blood-thirsty urge to reduce someone else to space-dust.
Mirage could see everything clearly: torpedoes getting loaded into their tubes, anti-fighter rapid-fire cannons taking aim, pulse lasers getting aligned, fighters taking their formations and automatic laser-tracking systems finding their mark. In the centre of it all, them.
"What's happening now?" asked Roger innocently, the Menodix's size not allowing him to see above the dashboard of the Phantom.
"The whole world's taking aim at us thanks to your acrobatic act maggot," replied Albel.
"How many guns?" Roger asked again.
"Too many," replied the warrior again, this time with a hint of irritation.
"What happens now?"
"We are so fucked."
"What should be do?"
"Isn't that obvious worm? Panic."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The cockpit was echoing with Roger's screaming, not that Maria could care less, she had another job: to get them out of this mess in one piece.
The armada of ships opened up, with all myriad of munitions searing towards them, either missing by miles, whizzing past them inches away, their sheer velocity melting the alien armor of the Phantom away.
Despite all this, Maria was doing a great job. Quark wasn't exactly on very good terms with the Pangalactic Federation, and it wasn't very numerous either. Taking heavy fire like this wasn't very uncommon. But this wasn't the super-maneuverable "Eagle" class fighter. Neither was it the heavily armored "Zero" class fighter bomber.
The Phantom was slower than the Eagle, and lacked the armor and shields of the Zero. Which meant one thing: They wouldn't be getting out of this in very good shape.
Then it happened. One simple second of misjudgment and it was all over. Maria totally forgetting rule one of taking fire: The time it takes to think is the time to die. Thus, don't think, hesitated for a second, and within that second, a volley of pulse laser blasts slammed into the engine of the Phantom, lunging the entire party forward.
"We're going down, everyone buckle up!" Maria yelled back at the party, who all got ready to crash-land.
The ship started to enter the planet's atmosphere, the hull glowing white-hot and the parts knocked lose by the random fire getting bunked right off, leaving a spectacular trail of fiery death and destruction, and billowing soot-black smoke behind.
Despite leaving the space battle, the trauma wasn't over. The party was thrown into another battle, this time in the atmosphere.
Albel could see two distinctive sides. The taller, more organized race, the Elites, according to the book he was holding, were engaged in a fierce firefight with a smaller, less upright and less organized race, the Jackals.
Just as the Elites were about to gain the upper-hand, by successfully capturing what appeared to be a Jackal command-post, another race, obviously allies of the Jackals, joined the fray.
They were the Brutes, heavy bulking juggernauts who overwhelmed by sheer numbers and force, lacking any semblance of finesse or tactics. They bore down on the Elites, slowly eating away at their lines, and pushing them back bit by bit.
Then, the Jackals noticed the dying Phantom, and their entire artillery opened up on it.
Maria, now plagued with not only a failing engine, but damaged control systems and a complaining Roger, was definitely unhappy when the Jackals started firing. Thankfully, whilst the ailing Phantom could no longer maneuver as efficiently in the atmosphere as it could in zero-gravity environments, the Jackals munitions were designed to cause an immense splash area of effect, and not to pierce through armor. But the armor of the Phantom would soon give way, and they would all go up in a fireball.
And then, the worst-case scenario happened.
A more-powerful-than-usual explosion rocked the ship. Light flooded in and the explosions became louder. This could only mean one thing: the hull had been breached.
Turning back, Nel could see that the entire rear section of the Phantom had been blown right off, along with several seats. Seats that were all unoccupied.
All except for one: Albel's.
Ugh…today's definitely not my day.
Albel slowly heaved his body up. He had no idea how long he had been lying there. All he knew was that he was reading that small book about the Covanent, and an explosion happened. Then it dawned upon him; he must have been blown out of the Phantom.
Nothing much he could do about it anyway. The party would most likely be dead. According to the strong anti-human messages the book brought forward, this Covenant definitely hated humans to the core. The party would most likely be shot on sight.
But this would be better for him. Whilst no one else around meant that there was no one to watch his back, it also meant there was no one to hold him down. A soloist and an egoist, this was exactly how Albel liked it.
No murders to avenge. No innocents to save. No morals to uphold. Albel took a while to recall the Black Brigade's motto. Sweet.
Albel crept along the eerie, dimly-lit corridors of what appeared to be a Covanent base.
As he expected, there was only a skeleton roster of guards, now that most of them had been sent to the frontlines.
His natural swiftness allowed him to get past most guards unnoticed, and those that actually did notice him were all silenced by several quick slashes by his precious Crimson Scourge.
He couldn't read most of the signs, since they weren't in English, and he didn't have Nel's linguistic skills, but some symbols were universal. Symbols like someone going out a rectangular frame just yelled "Exit". That was his destination.
Then, he heard voices. Bird-like, high-pitched voices. Jackals.
He was a warrior all right, but he was also a captain. An a skillful captain knew how to use psychology to his advantage. A couple of decapitated Jackals would surely serve as a reminder to the Covanent guards that they weren't the boss.
Three Jackals seemed to be guarding the entrance to, according to the map, a huge chamber. If he wanted to encounter no resistance on his way to the exit, he would have to strike fear into the hearts of whatsoever guards that were left in the base.
"So I hear that the Elites are getting whooped!" squawked one of the Jackals, flapping his stick-thin arms to emphasize his point, "Our comrades are winning!"
"Yeah, that's great! I wish I could be there," replied the other, slightly disappointed he was missing the fun.
"Don't worry, we'll get our chance-" the third jackal was cut off my the sound of metal striking metal just behind the corner.
"Stay here, I'll check that out," commanded the first.
It slowly advanced towards the dark corner, plasmapistol leveled.
Then, his cautious advance paused. He stood there motionless, as if in a trance.
"Hey man, what's going on-" his partner's question was answered immediately, and gruesomely. The scout Jackal's head flopped off its neck, before falling to the floor with a dull thud.
The culprit emerged from behind the shadows, his blade dyed deep scarlet with the blood of his latest victim. To make matters worse, he was human.
"No human would be able to get this far in, except for the Demon!" screeched one of the surviving Jackals.
(A/N: The Demon is what the Covanent call the Master Chief.)
"But isn't the Demon on Earth?" queried the other.
They then started a heated discussion on "if the human before them was the Demon".
"Are you maggots going to shoot?" asked Albel, impatient.
The Jackals paused for a while, then shrieked loud warcries and blasted their plasma pistols down the corridor blindly, hoping that at least one of the plasma bolts would hit. Then, pistols overheated, they stopped.
"He's disappeared, he's dead!" cheered the first Jackal.
"Too slow," came a voice behind the Jackals. That was the last thing they heard.
The Jackals were little more than a distraction to Albel. He easily sliced them to confetti before entering the large chamber they were guarding. Expecting to find a larger number of guards, this time, there was none. Only a weird statue of a strange humanoid with ears on top of its head and a face like that of a…dog.
There was something that irked him about the statue, but he ignored this feeling and and continued on his way to the door on the other side of the chamber. That is, until the statue moved.
Slowly, the strange statue rose from his kneeling position, stretched its huge, muscular arms, drew a humungous blade and threw its head back in a fearsome roar.
"Halt human! The likes of you who are unworthy are not welcome in this land! Leave now!" the statue demanded.
"What the…" muttered Albel.
"The word 'what' is inappropriate. It should be replaced by the word 'who'. And for that question, I am Cerberus, First Deathdealer of the Lesiri, sovereign rulers of the planet Lesroth," introduced Cerberus, "I have been sent as a diplomat to negotiate peace, cooperation and friendly relationships with the Covanent by my Chieftain."
"Wow, I've never seen a talking mutt before. Now in a dog show, you'll definitely win first place," taunted Albel, remembering the competitions organized back home on Elicoor for the Airyglyph nobility.
"Are you mocking me?" flared Cerberus, throwing his head back once again; he released a blast of pure energy from his snout, destroying the door from which Albel entered the room. There was no escape anymore for his prey.
"Easy fido, let me take you out for a walk. C'mon," teased Albel once again, showing gestures to Cerberus like those a master shows his canine companion.
"You'll regret this human, En Garde!" challenged Cerberus as he drew a huge blade and charged forth.
Seeing his foe armed and ready, Albel drew his blade and parried the blow, almost to be overcome by the sheer strength of the Lesiri warrior. Still, he strained his arm and was able to push the deadly blade away.
Unrelenting, Cerberus took a ready stance and charged again, this time sweeping his blade upwards, hoping that Albel would try to parry this blow again, and in doing so be flung upwards, vulnerable to a subsequent attack.
But Albel read this perfectly. Instead of parrying, he dodged the cumbersome blade and thrust his katana forth, planting a slight hit onto the torso of his foe. But by doing so, he brought himself dangerously close to Cerberus, allowing the Deathdealer to slam his knee into the human's gut.
Flinching, Albel was unable to react to Cerberus' blow to his jaw, which sent him reeling across the chamber. Struggling to his feet, he was knocked back down again by Cerberus' blade, his armor deflecting most of the damage though.
With a victor's cry, Cerberus prepared to deal the Coup de Grace, only to have Albel stab the Crimson Scourge into his unarmored calf. Yelling with pain, he retreated, allowing Albel valuable time to recover his footing.
Despite both combatants injured, the battle carried on with no less intensity. The chamber was ringing with the sound of steel meeting steel and blade biting flesh. The rose-red blood of the human warrior was scattered throughout the chamber, intertwined with the black blood of his Lesiri counterpart.
However, despite several breakthroughs by both parties, the fight was still largely a draw, with one warrior desperately parrying at one moment, then slamming his blade into his opponents flesh in the next.
Finally, Cerberus had a breakthrough. He feinted to the left, then thrust to the right, momentarily confusing Albel as he slammed his foot into the Elicoorian's chest.
Spitting a mouthful of blood, Albel was flung across the room, and crumpled onto the floor. He was down, but not out. Cerberus charged and struck at him savagely several times but each was countered by one of Albel's parries, that is until, the sound of metal giving way to sheer strength was heard.
With a desperate slash, Albel managed to force Cerberus to back off, but the damage had already been done. His beloved Crimson Scourge, once standing a good three feet, was reduced to less than half a foot.
This damned mutt is gonna pay for this…
Ditching his sword, Albel charged at Cerberus barehanded. Or that was what Cerberus though.
Confident his opponent was giving one last desperate attempt before falling, Cerberus decided to end it quick, and slammed his blade into the human, only to see the human catch his blade with his armored hand. Or what he though was an armored hand.
Then it dawned upon him. The human wasn't wearing a gauntlet or a metal glove on that hand. His whole damned arm was metal.
"No way…" gasped Cerberus.
"Yes way puppy-boy," smirked Albel, as he delivered a bone-crunching punch to the snout of the Lesiri, forcing it to loosen his grip on his weapon, and take several retreating steps, clutching his snout. When he recovered from the initial shock, he found Albel in front of him, with his own blade leveled at his neck.
"Bad dog. Sit," teased Albel again.
"You are not human, are you?" asked Cerberus. There was no way a normal human could have beaten him.
"Who knows? I'm not even sure myself," replied the warrior.
(A/N: Is he human, data, a program or something else? Even I have no clue…)
"Regardless, you have proven your strength. Take my ID card and go forth. It should prevent any further trouble. You have my blessings," said Cerberus.
"Thanks warrior," acknowledged Albel. Cerberus smiled. Warriors respected other warriors, and acknowledgement was necessary. But this happiness was short lived.
With a mighty crash, the wall on one end of the chamber collapsed, and creatures that would make even the many races of the Covanent look normal appeared. They were even bigger than the Lesiri warrior and walked in unnatural, almost strained strides. They had scythe-like tentacles for arms, and peanuts for brains: Some of them were walking into crates.
(A/N: Ever observed this A.I. script bug in Halo? The Flood walk into walls!)
"What are they?" asked Albel.
"They're the Flood. The enemies of all who draw breath, and of all who are honorable," replied Cerberus, as he readied his blade, "Run now human. They are too numerous. It is my job to guard this door from the Flood and I shall, even if it means against superior numbers, and till death."
"So you were guarding the door against these?" asked Albel.
"Yeah, you though I had all the time in the world to wait here to challenge you? No way. Now run, quickly," said Cerberus.
"What? Albel the Wicked doesn't run from a fight maggot," complained Albel.
"I said go! Now! They are too many!" commanded Cerberus.
"Doesn't matter how many maggots there are. I'll kill them all!" yelled Albel as he charged forward slashing with his claw.
Cerberus was quick to join in the fray, incapacitating several at a time with a mighty swing of his blade.
"Aren't there too many, worm? Why not you run?" teased Albel.
"I can't let you get all the glory can I?" replied Cerberus with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
Yet despite the heroics, overwhelming numbers and fatigue from the previous duel soon caught up with both warriors. Albel had escaped with few injuries because he was faster and had a lighter weapon, but Cerberus was seriously injured, having to lug his heavy blade around. He had been lashed several times by the tentacles of the Flood, and wouldn't last very long.
Sensing that the situation was against them, Albel grabbed the weakened Cerberus and dragged him out the door which the Lesiri had so zealously guarded. He then slammed it shut, a few seconds before the Flood crashed against it. The door was strong, but it wouldn't hold for very long.
"My time is nearly up human. But there is one thing I need to do before I pass on," Cerberus reached for a nearby chest, opened it and brought out a strange blade, "This is the symbol of the First Deathdealer of the Lesiri: The Gunblade. Before every Deathdealer dies, he passes his weapon on to his chosen successor. Then he dies with honor. Take it."
"I can't…" Albel protested.
"TAKE IT!" demanded Cerberus, before coughing black blood. Cautiously, Albel took the gunblade. It was shaped like a standard katana, with a single edge. However, it was slightly thicker as it flowed to the base. At the handle was a trigger, which lead up to a barrel, forming part of the blade.
"Now that I have passed it on, I can leave with honor," said Cerberus, as the light of life slowly left his eyes.
"For honor warrior, I shall wield your blade. For honor, I shall bear your burden. May the winds carry you swiftly to your ancestors warrior," said Albel, as he gave the dead warrior a crisp salute before turning about.
"Those Flood maggots are gonna be crying to their mamas when Wicked Boy's through with them."
The Flood had been guarding the door, awaiting the two life forms to emerge. They could fee the presence of them behind the doors, they could taste the fear and anxiety. They were overwhelmed with bloodlust, to do what they were supposed to do: to kill.
Then, in a sudden turn of events, the doors were flung open. Out strode the smaller life form, alone. And he looked prepared.
Nonetheless, they would dispose of him. Using their conventional, in-built instinctive tactic, they surrounded him before jumping at him all at once, from all directions.
Albel sensed that the Flood would use this tactic. It was remotely similar to the tactic used by the indigenous beasts of the Elicoorian Mountains. And he was prepared.
Time to test this baby out.
And his first victim: the one directly on top of him. With a quick flash of steel, the Flood combat form was cleanly sliced into two symmetrical bits, each one then crashing harmlessly onto the floor of the chamber, spewing greenish gore all over the gleamy metal floor.
Each Flood minion lashed out at him with one of their tentacles, which he easily swatted away with his steel claw-arm, before slicing into their exposed torsos. The Gunblade, though alien to him at first, had now progressed from being a mere weapon. It was part of him, like an extension of his arm. A deadly extension.
More Flood raced through the hole in the wall, each one blindly charging at the lone human warrior, but Albel kept them all at bay with effortless precision parries and deadly counter-attacks. It was as if he had gained a sudden boost in speed and was able to use his claw and knock one of them off its feet before slicing into its flesh.
Several more charged out of the hole in the wall.
Time to end this!
With a loud warcry, he charged forth, wildly slashing away at the Flood combat forms, giving them little time to realize they were slashed, let alone react. Then, at the end of his charge, he took a few seconds to catch his breath, before turning around to admire his handiwork. The Flood minions who had tried in vain to stop him were either lying on the floor in pieces, or crawling around trying to find their other half.
Cerberus had been avenged.
Then, the door, originally sealed off by Cerberus, crashed open, and several Brutes entered the room, only to see the lone Albel standing amongst the dead bodies of the Flood.
"I don't believe it, this human killed all the Flood?" gasped one of the brutes; then noticing Cerberus' limp body in the next room, "And Cerberus?"
"Don't care, FIRE!" commanded the Captain.
Plasma bolts screeched out of the barrels of their plasma rifles, adding to the death and damage in the room. Finally, when the firing died down, the human was nowhere to be seen.
"He's probably been vaporized, let's go finish off the others," said the Captain of the squad.
Finish off the others? That means those maggots might have survived. I better go check it out…Thought Albel, as he slowly emerged from his cover behind several crates. If I can't get that stupid Alteration Gene Techie-expert maggot to work the communicators, I can dream on about leaving this rock.
As he was about to leave, one of the Flood combat forms twitched behind him. Spinning around, he flicked the switch on his Gunblade that retracted the blade, exposing the barrel. Then, he squeezed the trigger, sending a hail of lead into the body of the minion, effectively erasing all life from it.
God I can get used to this.
A/N: There you have it, Miss Nox. You wanted Albel, you get Albel. One whole chapter (or most of it) dedicated to the Wicked boy. Hope this makes you wanna start spamming that review button.
Master out.