One moment Duncan had been falling in tandem with the rest of his squad, on course for a coastline city on Tribute. As per the usual, the heat was incredible, as it was every time he dropped. However, it had never been this hot before. It had been a while since he last dropped: five, maybe six months – it had gotten hard to keep track of the time since the incident – but he was certain that it was never this hot. Perhaps it was just his nerves, or perhaps it was the heat emanating from his armour adding to the already intense heat. Unbearable heat on the outside of the pod was one thing, heat on the inside was another.
Soon enough, the pod would begin to malfunction. Maybe the comms would freeze up, or maybe the hatch opening sequence would trigger prematurely, or – worst of all – maybe the breaking thrusters wouldn't activate. If that happened, then he would be as good as dead. He knew he was being paranoid, thinking that far ahead, but he couldn't help it. He saw things differently to other people; he saw how everything fitted together to work in tandem, and saw how events would play out. Or rather, how events could play out. Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse, he foresaw every possible outcome but always expected the worst. This was one of the times when his pessimistic side was correct.
One moment Duncan had been falling with the rest of his squad, the next he was veering off course towards a skyscraper. His braking thrusters didn't activate and he collided with the reinforced roof of a corporate building, ricocheting off of the corner and plummeting to the ground upside down. The impact slowed his descent considerably but also undoubtedly would have broken every bone in his body if he were not a Spartan. After but another five seconds of falling his pod crashed through the window of a building across the road from the first, finally stopping his fall after crashing through a few floors. At last, he had a moment to breathe.
Duncan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again and staring out of his pod. Although the glass was murky – more so after the crash – he could tell he was in an office building, though not a very busy one apparently. There were desks arranged in rows, but the papers strewn across the floor betrayed what had happened there. It was clear that the building had been evacuated for whatever reason, likely to do with the covenant attacks. He wiped the glass with his palm, getting rid of the layer of condensation that had formed, and scanned the floor quickly. Yeah. Definitely abandoned.
He unstrapped himself from his seat and fell onto his shoulders, forgetting the fact that he was upside down. In the cramped quarters he somehow managed to stand up inside the pod, and reached up above him to pull one of the ejection handles. He pulled the other beneath his feet and stood ready for the ejection. Air hissed for a moment before the explosives detonated, sending the hatch through a nearby window. No problem. Didn't need that anyway. He reached to his right and grabbed the suppressed M7 submachinegun clipped to the side of the pod, and jumped out.
His pod was in fact still stuck in the floor above him, hanging from the ceiling precariously. Duncan patted himself down for a moment, before realising that he hadn't retrieved the supplies from his pod, and cursing himself. Despite his sometimes impeccable foresight, he always forgot the most basic of things. Retrieving ammo was supposed to be standard procedure, but it seemed that he'd forgotten the meaning of the term since the fall of Fireteam Valkyrie. Duncan reached up and grabbed the pod, before ripping it down from the ceiling. It landed with a crash, cracking the floor but not quite tearing through.
He began to rummage through the various pouches and canisters now littered around the bottom of the pod, picking out the more useful ones and tossing a few away. He suddenly froze however, upon hearing what sounded like a very low growl. He turned slowly, and came face to face with an elite, a minor by the looks of it. The elite stared blankly into his visor, as if not truly recognising his presence, before cocking its head. Duncan slowly sidestepped around the elite, preparing to attack as soon as he was behind the creature. Suddenly the crunch of an ammunition pouch beneath his feet startled it, as well as himself, and the elite span around, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up.
The elite seemed confused by what it was holding, given that it could not see it. It stared at whatever it was holding – it could feel the heat emanating from its body – but couldn't make out its shape. The elite activated its energy sword.
Before the elite could execute him, Duncan activated his own weapon – a modified energy dagger on his left wrist – and plunged the blade into its throat. The elite let out a slight whine, before collapsing to the ground, bringing Duncan down on top of him. Duncan stood and deactivated the energy dagger, before looking down at his own hands. For once, he could appreciate the benefits of his unusual condition.
Duncan returned to the pod, and quickly gathered supplies before walking over to the window that had been smashed by the hatch. He looked out and judged the height, before stepping out and beginning a dangerous climb down.
As Edward jumped out of the pod he slung the grenade launcher over his shoulder and pumped the shotgun, relieved to find it already loaded. His relief flooded away as the ammo counter suddenly lit up, revealing that only four of the maximum six rounds were loaded. He silently cursed whichever lazy soldier had prepared his gear, before turning around to face his opponents. He ran to the edge of the alley and flattened himself against the wall, before peering out around the corner. The exploded ghost had killed its driver and stopped the convoy, and Edward was stuck in the middle of it. He quickly counted how many opponents he was facing: several ghosts, mostly driven by grunts, as well as a wraith. Nothing he couldn't handle. Well, at least nothing he wouldn't have been able to handle a few years earlier.
Edward quickly moved back behind cover as he felt he made eye contact with a grunt that was barely able to see over the top of its ghost, checking what the holdup was. He heard it shout something in a language he couldn't begin to understand, before hearing the low pulsing sound of a ghost nearing him. He tossed his shotgun to his left hand before bringing his right hand up to his shoulder, towards his combat knife. He gripped it, and as the ghost came past the alley he unsheathed it in an instant, flipping it mid swing and burying it in the grunt's chest. For a moment the grunt was suspended in mid-air, its ghost having continued on its path, before Edward shook his arm, causing the grunt to fall to the ground.
Edward sheathed his knife before reaching down and grabbing the grunt's energy pistol, pressing his thumb against the pad on top immediately, and charging a bolt of plasma. He waited a few seconds before stepping out from his cover, taking aim at one of the ghosts and firing. He saw the bolt hit the front of the ghost before burning straight through without much resistance. He heard a shout of pain as the bolt hit the driver – a signal for him to move forward. He dropped the pistol to the ground and broken into a run.
As the driver's shouts of pain caught the attention of the others, Edward sprinted towards the cluster of ghosts, unslinging the grenade launcher as he did. He fired a grenade into the centre of the group and took cover behind some rubble. As he heard the explosion he vaulted over his cover and readied his shotgun, aiming at the nearest elite. He fired a single shot and the elite was down. He pumped the shotgun again and fired a wide spread into the huddled cluster of ghosts, the pilots unsure of where to go during the chaos. He saw a couple of grunts fall from their vehicles as they were hit by pellets from his shot, and shielded himself with his arm as one of the damaged ghosts suddenly exploded in front of him, the elite pilot flying over his head. Edward pumped his shotgun again.
As the group finally began to coordinate itself, Edward rushed back, vaulting over the wreckage of a ghost and taking cover behind it again. He peeked over the top and saw the wraith turning to face his location, readying a shot as it did. As the wraith fired and a blob of plasma began to travel towards him, he jumped over his cover and broke into a sprint, moving for the wraith as he knew it would be a while before it could fire again. As the plasma hit the ground behind his former cover, the wreckage of the ghost was blown into every direction, falling apart as it did. The main body of the ghost flew straight towards Edward, but he noticed it, jumping as it drew close and landing on it momentarily. He leapt from the husk, using the momentum to throw himself onto and almost over the wraith, managing to grab ahold of the plasma mortar as he flew over it. He steadied himself and stood.
Ignoring the persistent firing from the grunts and elites around him, Edward fired a shot into the back of the gunner's head, before clambering to the back of the wraith. He hooked his legs around a piece of metal jutting out from the back of the wraith, and – hanging upside down – quickly located the exhaust port he was looking for. He took the only grenade he had from his belt, before pressing the button on the handle and stuffing it forcibly into the exhaust. He dropped from the wraith, landing haphazardly on his shoulders before scrambling to his feet and sprinting in the other direction.
Edward heard the grenade explode within the wraith, and made a final leap away from it before dropping low to the ground and locking his armour. A layer of blue shielding erupted from his armour, surrounding his entire body moments before the wraith exploded with a torrent of plasma which ate through the plating on the nearby ghosts, soon creating a chain reaction of explosions all around him. As the explosions halted and the cries of pain from grunts and elites began to subside, Edward disabled the shielding and unlocked his armour, before standing and scanning the wreckage.
He saw no signs of life, save for a few grunts on fire and barely clinging to their last shreds of life. He decided to leave them to it, and began to clamber over some of the wreckage, making his way back to his pod. As he reached the entrance to the alleyway, however, he froze. He stood completely still and silent, and listened carefully. He could swear he had heard the sound of a cloaking device being activated, but couldn't be certain. After a few moments, he began to think he had imagined it, but then he heard the opposite sound – a cloaking device being deactivated. And it was right behind him.
Edward sidestepped and turned, narrowly avoiding being impaled on the energy sword of a surviving elite. The elite snarled and swung its weapon towards Edward, forcing him to duck to the ground to avoid the attack. As the blade made its way over his head he rose, bringing the stock of his shotgun up and striking the elite on the side of its head. It stumbled back and Edward kicked it forcefully, knocking it to the ground. Before it could stand, he placed a foot on its chest and aimed his shotgun at its head. He didn't think for a moment before executing it.
Edward collected all of the supplies he could carry from his pod and exited the alleyway, peering out in-between the opposite buildings in search of which way to go. He soon saw the glint of light on the ocean, and began to make his way towards the coast, in hopes of grouping up with his future team.