Chapter 2: Exposition to Complication

[04 April 2548]

[UNSC Firebase "Bravo Nest", Metropolis city, UNSC colony Agricola]

[2030 Hours]

Claire's head was spinning. How much time had gone by since Captain Ross had informed them they were stranded and Covenant were invading? Her ears still ringing with gunfire, she sat down and leaned against the bases wall, closing her eyes.

About eight point five hours earlier…

After delivering his inspiring and bloodthirsty speech, Ross had convened with the Spartan Petty Officer to discuss an immediate plan of action, leaving the ODST's to mill about and keep watch for Covenant. What they did mostly, though, was talk.

Atwood thumped himself to the ground and sighed. "Ah, all due respect to the good Captain, but speeches be damned. We're fucked, no ifs, ands, or buts about it."

Beside him, Schaefer ripped off his helmet and lit a cigarette. "Yeah, well, what else is new? I say, let the aliens come. They can kiss my big German ass."

Katy lit a cigarette too, a bad sign. She only smoked to calm her nerves and clear her mind- and it took a lot to jangle her nerves. "I don't know, I think it depends on how they decide to attack. If it was an up-and-up glassing, we wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell. But if they're deploying ground parties, that means they're looking for something. Might give us an advantage if we play our cards right."

"Yeah, they're looking for something alright," Atwood said, pointing a finger towards the Spartan. Even against Ross and Keller, who were pretty tall in their own right, he looked enormous. "They're looking for Mister Smiley over there. He said it himself that he had been hunting that Elite for a while. Chances are that the Covies probably put a price on his head too."

"The Covenant have probably put a price on every Spartan's head, Atwood." Katy retorted.

Schaefer threw down his cigarette and joined the argument. "Yeah, but they probably put special hits out on Spartans just on general principle. This guy is ONI; who knows how many ops he's run against the Covenant? You saw all those Grunts and Elites in the square. Who knows how many teams like that are out hunting this guy? We might all get our asses spammed just because this guy happened to be on the same planet as us."

Claire said nothing. She ripped into an energy bar as her teammates argued and sat on a bench, chewing thoughtfully. She allowed her eyes roam back over to the Spartan, talking quietly with Captain Ross. She studied his black armor, devoid of any insignias or identification, and the way he held himself, relaxed but wary.

Well, if it was true that the Covenant had a mad-on for this particular super soldier, then it might explain why instead of glassing the city they were invading it. And if they were searching for this Spartan, then that might play into the ODSTs advantage too. Just like the Captain said, "the entire Covenant will aim for him."

"What do you think, Sarge?" Katy had glanced towards her.

"Huh?"

"Yoo-hoo, Agricola to Sergeant Avalos? You all there?"

Claire swallowed the last of the energy bar. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"I said, do you think we're more screwed without the Spartan, or with the Spartan? Cause right now the votes kind of tied."

Claire stared, then shrugged. "I don't know yet. I think it more depends on what kind of person this Spartan is."

"You mean, like what kind of sick psychopath would paint a smile on his helmet?" Schaefer drew an imaginary smile across his own visor.

"Or, like what kind of suicidal maniac would paint his visor yellow so that it's practically screaming 'Sniper Bait'?" Atwood pantomimed a gun firing in the Spartans direction.

"Yeah, something like that."

But truth be told, Claire wasn't just thinking about the Spartans armor. She was also thinking about how the Spartan's eyes had looked behind his visor, how he had reacted at the sight of his own mauled, dead troops. How he had held the Elite, almost…comforted, it, before he had stabbed it through the heart. Claire thought about all of that, and while a small voice whispered "Poster Boy", her mind screamed

Cold Blooded Killer

Katy seemed to share her thoughts. "I don't think he's suicidal, or crazy."

"Then what do you think he is?"

"A killer. A bloody effective killer."

Atwood and Schaefer nodded, muttering agreements. Claire shrugged.

Katy continued. "Shame too. He had pretty eyes from what I saw."

Claire burst out laughing and Atwood snorted. Schaefer shook his head in disgust.

"What?"

Claire grinned. "You unapologetic slut! The man went fifteen rounds with an Elite and all you can think about are his pretty eyes?"

Katy grinned back, shoved her in the shoulder. "As if you weren't thinking the same thing."

"You're completely wrong."

"Oh, am I?" Katy's grin grew wider. "I saw you and him lock eyes. You couldn't stop staring."

"If you saw the grin on his face, you'd stare too." Claire shoved back.

"Kind of like right now?" Atwood had snapped to attention. Claire and Katy whirled around.

Spartan-009 stood at Captain Ross's left. Ross favored the two soldiers with a raised eyebrow. "Having fun, you two?"

"Excuse us sir." Claire detached herself from Katy and both snapped to attention.

"You're excused." Captain Ross sighed. "Alright people, this is the way it looks. We're stuck here."

"Brilliant observation." Katy muttered.

Schaefer raised his hand. "Excuse me Captain, but doesn't Spartan-009 have a ship? I mean, his team had to have gotten here somehow?"

The super soldier shook his head, but his AI Celsius spoke for him. "009 and his team were dropped off two days ago by the UNSC Black Flight, a stealth cruiser. They were deployed under orders to scour the planet and eliminate the target, only after which could we contact the ship and request extraction. Not a particularly sound plan, but then again, I'm not operating on a particularly sound platform, am I?"

"Says you." The Spartan muttered.

"Exactly." Ross looked miffed at being interrupted. "So, if the Covenant are landing ground troops, then they're probably going to deploy recon teams into the city to take quick control. Our priorities now are to meet those recon teams, and get these wounded back to the firebase for treatment."

"I've has contacted the firebase and they're sending out a Warthog convoy to pick us up. What we need to do in the meantime is secure the perimeter and hold our positions until reinforcements arrive."

Katy spoke up. "So basically Captain, we're supposed to sit on our asses until help arrives?"

Claire giggled, and she noticed the Spartan stood suspiciously still, as if he were suppressing shudders of laughter inside his shell.

Captain Ross said calmly, "Private Rawlings, I appreciate the constructive criticism, but interrupt me one more time and you'll be cleaning toilets with your tongue for the rest of your military career."

That sobered everybody up. The Captain talked big but he was also a man of his word.

"Chief?" Ross motioned to the Chief. "If you will?"

Celsius addressed the ODST's. "The Captain wasn't insinuating that we sit around and twiddle our thumbs. Covenant will be crawling all over this area in a few minutes. We need to move the wounded to cover, set up ambush points."

The Spartan held up a small alien looking communications box. "This is a Covenant transponder. I found it one of these dead Elites. Covenant forces are probably homing in on this already."

That completely silenced the ODSTs. Ross took the opportunity to step back into the limelight. "What 009 and the AI are saying is that we can use this square as a kill zone. Let the Covenant move in, then cut them down when they are distracted. That way, we clear out any hostiles before extraction gets here."

Captain Ross glanced towards the super soldier. "Thank you, Sergeant, 009, Celsius." He began issuing rapid fire orders. "My squad, on me. We'll handle the wounded, get them into relative safety, and keep any eye on them. Sergeant Avalos!"

"Sir!" Avalos straightened up.

"Your squad's the ambush team."

Oh brother, thought Claire. Outwardly she said, "Understood, sir."

"Excellent. You're under the Spartan-009's command now. Guard his back."

Claire stiffened. "Yes sir."

"You have your assignments. Questions?" Nobody spoke. "Go!"

Ross and his squad began assembling collapsible stretchers to transport the wounded. Claire irritably slapped on her helmet and motioned for her squad to surround the Spartan. The Petty Officer glanced up and nodded.

Claire heaved an inward sigh "What are your orders, Chief?"

The Spartan turned towards Atwood. "Corporal Atwood?"

"Sir!"

"Did I get the name right? Atwood?"

"Uh…yes sir."

"Good. Set up on that grassy knoll, over there. The brush should provide enough cover." The Spartan pointed.

Atwood nodded. "Yes sir. But…am I the second gunman?"

The question didn't seem to register. "Excuse me?"

"Never mind, sir." Atwood grabbed his Sniper Rifle and double timed it over to his post.

"Alright, Battle Rifles set up staggered line behind those planters. Hide yourselves well. Assault weapons, take position under that overhang. Need any ammo or supplies, now's the time."

Claire raised his hand. "Excuse me, Petty, but where will you be in all of this?"

To everyone's surprise, the Spartan un holstered his Battle Rifle and tossed it to the ground. "Hiding in plain sight." He sat down and checked his position, as if ensuring it was secure enough.

Rawlings broke in. "Wait, Petty, are you saying that you're going to be lying on the ground like a dead fish when the Covenant show up?"

"Yeah."

"You're nuts!" Claire blurted.

The Spartan shrugged. "The Covenant'll spot me and take a closer look. They'll be so preoccupied that they won't know what hits them when you open fire."

"And what happens if we miss?" Atwood retorted.

"I have absolute faith in you."

"But seriously, what happens if we miss?"

Celsius chimed in. "Yeah, David, what happens if they miss?"

Spartan-009 glanced up, shrugged again. "Then it was nice to meet you." He waved them on. "You have your assignments. Get to cover and wait for my signal." With that he laid himself down amidst the blood pools and stiffening corpses, spread eagled, and relaxed.

All that was left was the waiting game.

Within three minutes the square was clear of all living things. Captain Ross and his squad had disappeared into a building, Claire's squad was spread out and hiding and the Petty Officer was laying down, to all appearances dead.

There was nothing more deadly than a silent, deserted square. Not even birds were squawking in the distance. Claire shifted and checked the charging bolt on her rifle. Schaefer tapped his foot against the ground. Katy alternated polarizing and de-polarizing her visor. Finally she opened the public comm. channel. "Hey, Sarge?"

"Yeah?"

"You scared?"

"Not yet."

"Great."

"Um-hm."

Ross snapped from his position. "Hey, quiet you two!"

The silence invaded again, deeper and more piercing than before. Claire hesitated, then, taking a chance, opened a private comm. channel, asking hesitantly, "Chief?"

The Spartan's voice answered. He sounded tired. "What is it, Sergeant?"

Claire leaned back against the pillar she was hiding behind. "This is probably a stupid question, but, are you scared?"

009 smacked his lips. "Yep."

Claire started. "C'mon, you're kidding?"

"Nope." He responded dryly.

The ODST smiled in spite of herself. "I thought you Spartans were never afraid."

"Nah, we're usually scared shitless. That's why we always wear our helmets."

Claire closed her eyes. She liked the sound of the 009's voice, so calm, so smooth. "You always scared?"

"Sometimes, like when I'm putting myself out there, alone, vulnerable. Kind of like right now."

"So, were you scared when you were fighting that Elite?"

The Spartan didn't respond. Claire opened her eyes. "I'm not trying to pry. If that's too personal…"

"It's not personal. And I wasn't scared. I was..." Claire heard a sigh. "Damn, it's complicated."

"I'm willing to listen."

"I know." He said gently. Claire's face warmed slightly. "If we ever have time, I'll try to explain it. But not now. Not yet."

"Okay." Claire settled back. "Hey-"

At that moment, the air filled with an electric hum that grew steadily louder. An enormous shadow darkened the square. Atwood, safe in his sniper post, whispered, "Contact, straight above! One Bandit gunship, two Banshees on the flanks."

Ross's voice crackled over the comm. "Alright, everyone, stop your grinnin' and drop your linen. Wait for the Chief's orders."

The Bandit hovered low to the ground, and several figures jumped out of the dual cargo holds. Claire could make out the lean figures of several Jackals, the dumpy bodies of nearly a dozen Grunts, and a few tall, crimson armored Elites.

Atwood reported rapidly. "Big squad, at least twelve plus foot mobiles. Twelve Grunts, four Jackals, two Elites, those tall bastards in the red suits. Oh shit!"

The squad tensed as they heard a steady electric purr. That could only mean-

"Ghost recon vehicles, two of 'em. White armored Grunts behind the wheels. 009, you better be damn sure about this."

"Stay patient." The Spartan murmured. "Assault weapons concentrate on the Ghosts. Battle Rifles target Elites and Grunts. Atwood, you're my cover. Watch my back when the shooting starts."

"Aye Aye, swabbie."

Celsius spoke up. "David, we are one mobile warfare platform against one Covenant infantry formation and two light vehicles. The odds of us surviving this little ambush, in one piece, are twenty point five to two hundred- and that's rounding up."

"Yeah, well, since when have I ever cared about your odds?"

"You're right David. I'll shut up now and die quietly."

The Bandit gunship remained over the scene. Elites were examining their fallen brothers, growling and occasionally roaring, even shaking their fists at the sky. Grunts keened low pitched squeaks at sight of their own fallen comrades. Jackals, their shields activated and glowing, sniffed the air. Suddenly one stiffened and pointed towards the center of the carnage.

"Shit, Chief, they've spotted you."

"Yep, wait for my go." The Spartan said nonchalantly. Scared, my ass, Claire thought.

The Elites loped over to the spot, and Grunts surrounded them, chattering excitedly. One of the Elites knelt down for a closer look. All of the Covenant were utterly absorbed.

009's voice echoed across the comm. channel.

"Now."

Suddenly the Covenant leapt back in shock. The lead Elite stumbled away, clawing at his armor where a lit plasma grenade stuck to his chest guard. He disappeared in a bright flash, taking two Grunts with him.

The peace was shattered as gunfire erupted on all sides. Staccato Battle Rifle fire mixed with the steady chatter of Assault Rifles. Baritone booms of Shotguns formed a pulse by which the steady hiss of plasma weapons followed winding and weaving through the square. The crescendo came in the form of the blasts of Atwood's sniper rifle, creating a vicious symphony that raped the air and burned the ears.

Claire noticed none of it. Tunnel vision, common virus to all soldiers, had taken over her sight, and all she could see was the barrel of her rifle pointing straight towards the nearest Ghost. The firepower of three Assault Rifles tore the vehicles engine, and a single grenade from Schaefer's launcher destroyed the chassis, sending the little silver Grunt flying away with pin wheeling arms.

"Fucking-A!" Schaefer roared.

Claire blinked, and the battle came back into sharp focus. That's when she saw him.

009 had somehow emerged unscathed from the crush of Covenant troops. He was moving like water, ducking and rolling through gunfire. Then all of a sudden he had his back to a pillar, dual SMG's blazing in his fists as he cut a swath through lines of Grunts.

The single remaining Elite was directing his Jackals to flank him, but the super soldier darted forward and ran towards the fountain, concentrating his fire on the red armored figure. This forced the Jackals to shift their shields, giving the Battle Rifle team a clear shot. The avian looking aliens screeched as the large caliber rounds tore holes through them and crumpled like cardboard. The Elite, alone now, scrambled towards cover, but got caught in the SMG's fire and was nearly cut in half by the bullets.

009 was racing now, charging the remaining Ghost head on.

"He's crazy!" Atwood yelled over the channel.

"No he's not!" Rawlings yelled back.

At the last second, the super soldier leapt into the air and landed squarely on the Ghosts hood. He swung his body over, knocking the Grunt out of the pilots' seat and onto the ground. Atwood took the opportunity to blow the little bastards head off as the Spartan gunned the vehicles plasma turrets, firing at the hovering gunship above him. The gunship returned the sentiment, and brightly lit plasma cut through the cold air.

Claire slapped Schaefer on the shoulder. "Shift fire up!"

"There's no way we can take that thing down!"

Atwood yelled over the comm., "I got it!" He fired four shots, pinging off the hull of the gunship. The last one hit something vital, because there was a bright blue flash, and the ship careened drunkenly before crashing into the ground, exactly where the Spartan was weaving in his borrowed Ghost.

"Son of a bitch!" Claire, Katy, Schaefer, Atwood, and Ross yelled simultaneously.

A storm cloud of blood, dirt, shrapnel, and concrete rained down. The ODSTs ducked for cover. Claire felt a stab of pain as a burning piece of metal sliced her shoulder. The roaring filled her ears, deafening her. Then all was silent.

Static brayed on the comm. channel, then Ross coughed. "Sound off! Avalos, you there?"

Claire sat up. She felt dizzy and nauseated. Warm blood was flowing down her sleeve, but she didn't feel any pain. Strange.

"Sergeant Avalos!"

"I'm here! I'm alright." Claire wiped a layer of dust off her visor.

"Private Rawlings?"

"Ughhhh…think I got concrete up my ass." Rawlings groaned

"Schaefer?"

"Fifty percent here, Captain."

"Great."

Claire stood up, shaking. The square was gone; in its place, a crater almost completely enveloped the smoking wreckage of the gunship. A dust cloud was slowly settling. Claire put a hand to her ear. "Chief? 009? Do you copy?"

From across the square, Ross, his black ODST armor gray with dust, emerged from the side. "Atwood, you got eyes on the Spartan?"

"Yeah, I'm fine too here Captain, thanks for asking." Atwood paused. "Ho-lee shit. You gotta check this out."

There was movement in the crater. Suddenly, a hunk of purple metal that looked suspiciously like a broken Ghost shot out and landed on the ground. A tall, dusty figure scrambled out after it.

Schaefer whistled under his breath.

Spartan-009 emerged from the smoke and flames, filthy, covered in dirt and oil and blood, limping, but very much alive.

Claire sensed someone move to her side. Katy's helmet had been knocked off and her hair was in disarray, but she looked no worse for wear. She pointed towards the incoming Spartan, eyes wide. "Now that's hot."

Claire couldn't help herself; she nodded in agreement.

009 didn't stop until he had reached the ruined overhang. He glanced from Claire to Katy. Then he leaned against a pillar, slid to the ground, and knocked his head against said pillar. He spoke, his voice hoarse. "Everyone okay?"

Blood had dried on his shoulder wound, leaving a dark stain. He looked like hell all over. Claire marveled that he was actually asking them if they were okay. "Uh…yeah."

"Good." The Spartan rummaged around his utility belt, extracted a med-kit, and began applying bio-foam to his shoulder wound. He glanced up at Claire. "You're bleeding, Sergeant."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Claire suddenly remembered, and took a good look at the gash on her arm. The wound looked ragged and was bleeding freely.

The Spartan tossed her a liquid bandage tube. She fumbled for it. "Thanks." She muttered. He grunted in reply. Inside his helmet, Celsius sighed. "All the social graces of a mountain snake. Honestly David, what am I going to do with you?"

"Oh, so now you're talking to me again?"

"I'm just passing the time until you throw our mutual ass into another fire."

Katy looked around. "Well, may I be the first to say that what you did back there was completely badass?"

The Spartan's hand slipped with the bio-foam canister. "Badass?"

"Yeah, totally. I mean, we thought you were one hundred percent screwed when that Bandit landed on you, but the whole time you were hiding under that Ghost, and then you toss the damn thing onto the pavement and strut out of the hole all nonchalantly…" Katy trailed off with a happy sigh. "Seriously hardcore."

The Spartan nodded slowly, then turned towards Claire, jerking a thumb in Katy's direction. "She always this hyper?"

Katy grinned, turning red. Claire depolarized her visor and smiled. "Only after a firefight."

Vinson rushed towards Claire. "Sarge, you alright?"

"She's fine, Corporal." 009 grunted. He was examining his wound, unconcerned with the scene above him.

Claire wheeled around. Now that she was standing, her head felt clearer, and she suddenly wanted to say something. "Excuse me Chief, but what the hell was that?"

009 looked up. "Excuse me?"

"What the flying fuck were you thinking? Who do you think you are, motherfucking John McClane?"

"I think she's implying that your methods out there are cowboy and suicidal at best." Celsius mused. "I can't help but agree with her."

"Mmm-hmmm."

Claire shook her head in disgust. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? You die, and the Covenant will blow us away like a pile of leaves. You are an asshole."

009 stood up slowly and cocked his head at the Sergeant. "So, you're just figuring this out?"

Katy giggled. Claire felt her face turn red.

The Spartan took no notice as he shoved past the embarrassed Sergeant and into the now hazy sunshine, rolling his shoulder. He looked around at the destruction that he had helped cause. From his posture, one could almost say he looked pleased.

"You know, I feel like I'm missing something here." 009 said aloud. "I feel like there's something I'm forgetting…" he trailed off and looked to the sky. "Oh, yeah."

A buzzing wail filled everyone's ears. Schaefer cursed.

Celsius yelled, "Banshees are back!"

"Everyone down!" A black blur engulfed Claire and hurled her to the ground just as a massive green plasma pulse exploded above them. Concrete rained down

Claire couldn't see beyond the blackness. A heavy weight was bearing down on her, not crushing her but saving her from the worst of the explosion. Then it was over, and a pair of concerned brown eyes peered down at her. "You okay?"

She nodded weakly. "Yeah," she gasped

"Good." Then she was dragged upright, hand almost crushed in a vice like grip. It took her a moment to realize what had happened- the Spartan had tackled her and covered her with his own body, protecting her from the rain of debris that came from the Banshee's plasma mortar. "Thank you-"

But 009 had already moved away from her, out into the open. He picked up an Assault Rifle and fired madly at the offending Banshee as it passed for a second volley. A line of plasma bolts scorched the ground around him.

Claire felt an insane laugh rise in her throat. "I tell him not to get killed, and what does he do? Goes outside and plays chicken with a Banshee! Un-fucking-believable…"

"Avalos!" Captain Ross roared over the comm.

The laugh disappeared. "Yes sir?"

"Our rides here, you damn fool. Shoot and scoot!"

"Banshee's are pinning us down, Captain. We'll never make it."

"Kiss a fat mans butt! Alright, hang on, we're coming to you."

There was a roar as five Warthogs burst through the smoke, two standard LRV's, two troop carrier models, and one featuring a triple barreled HE launcher. Captain Ross motioned to the squad. "Let's go, while we're still breathing!"

"Right!" Claire turned and whistled. "009! Get your ass over here now! We gotta go!"

009 dropped the smoking Assault Rifle, stooped to pick up a fallen Battle Rifle, and double timed it over to the first LRV. He shoved aside Vinson, who shoved aside the original driver towards the gunner seat.

The Banshee swooped back, firing. In the gunner's seat, and the ODST fell back, dead. Vinson yelled, "Jansen's down!"

The Spartan slapped the wheel in anger, and then motioned towards Avalos. "Sergeant! I need a gunner!"

Claire hesitated, then broke away from Katy. He turned around, shocked. "Sarge, what the hell?"

"Don't worry Katy, I'll see you back at base!" She jumped in behind the 12.7mm turret, adjusted the angle, and sent a steady stream of armor piercing rounds towards the Banshee as it made lazy figure eights in the sky. Instantly the aircraft went evasive. "Play times over, you bastard." She muttered.

Captain Ross did a quick check. "Okay, wounded and recon teams are all aboard. Burn rubber!"

With that, the small convoy gunned their engines, bypassed the smoking crater, and headed west out of the square.

Hell trailed after them.

[04 April 2548]

[Metropolis city, UNSC colony Agricola]

[1230 Hours]

David laid pressure on the throttle, coaxing every ounce of speed he could out of the Hog. He spun the wheel as the convoy made a hard right, feeling a twinge in his shoulder. The bio-foam had helped ease the pain some, but it still hurt.

Behind him, Sergeant Avalos was gunning away steadily at the turret, calling, "We've got more coming! Two more banshee's at six o'clock!"

"Pick your shots," David called behind him. He got on the public comm. channel. "All Hogs spread out. Five LRV's are a juicy target for Banshee mortars."

"Acknowledged." Came the response.

There was a burst of dirt as a plasma mortar went off right next to David's LRV. He grit his teeth as the wash-off burned his shields and blinded him. He made a hard left, weaved through a series of pillars under an overhang, and emerged on the other side. "Sergeant, it's getting hot in here!"

"So what do you want me to do, take off all my clothes?" She yelled back in frustration.

David couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

Inside his head, Celsius giggled. "I find cross references that connect the Privates statement to lyrics from a 20th century hip-hop song."

"Terrific. We're dodging plasma and she's quoting songs." He turned his attention back to Claire. "Just take down those Banshees, quickly!"

"Then give me a shot!"

David slammed on the brakes and hit the e-brake, violently swinging the hog one eighty degrees. Claire practically went flying. "Now what are you doing?"

"Giving you a shot." David gunned the engine but held the brakes, eyes searching the sky for a target. Ah, there you are.

Two Banshees's peeled off and began a dive straight for them, five hundred meters and counting.

"David?" Celsius queried.

"Hang on." David released the brakes and jettisoned forward, straight into the Banshee's firing path. Avalos, with two targets in her sights, let the 12.7mm roar.

The first Banshee took hits on its chassis, exploded into flame, and dropped from the sky. The second's propulsion pod failed. Wobbling, it tried to veer off too late, and burst into a ball of fire on the side of a building.

"Yeah!"

"Flawless cowboy." Celsius muttered.

David grinned in his helmet. "Nothing but." Turning, he accelerated and quickly caught up with the rest of the convoy.

There was a brief respite as the remaining Banshee's peeled off, then suddenly the sky ahead of the convoy darkened. An ODST yelled over the comm. "Bandits on our twelve! Break off! Break off!"

David slammed on the brakes. The Hog ahead of him wasn't so lucky and crashed into a pillar, crumpling the front end. Captain Ross cursed over the comm.

The gunship was blocking their way into a freeway tunnel. Worse, it had deposited two Ghosts, which were moving rapidly to engage the convoy. David's radar blipped as a second gunship came in behind them, Ghosts quivering under her hull. Behind him, Avalos moaned, "They've got us pinned."

David's hands tightened on the wheel. "So are you giving up?"

Avalos hesitated, then racked the firing bolt of the 12.7mm, chambering a fresh round. "Not yet."

David nodded in approval. "Then hang on." He gunned the engine, sped to the head of the convoy, and charged the lead Ghost. The cobalt Elite in the driver's seat fired a steady stream of plasma, burning the Hog's hood and shattering the windshield. David held steady as Avalos returned the gunfire, and the Ghost went flying to the side as the larger vehicle rammed straight through it.

Taking on his cue, the rest of the convoy followed. The Rocket Hog fired a full magazine into the lead gunship, destroying its engine and causing it to crash, cutting off pursuing Ghosts. The Banshee's squeezed through, though, and followed the convoy.

Captain Ross radioed in. "Good job people. Hog One and Two, those Banshee's are all yours."

"On 'em." David shuddered as Avalos and the gunner of the second Hog targeted one Banshee apiece. In the cramped confines of the tunnel, the Banshee's never had a chance; their burning wreckage lit up the dark interior.

David eased his foot off the gas, pressing a hand to his comm. headset. "What's the word, Celsius?"

"That gunship will be there to greet you on the other end of the tunnel. You'd better be ready."

"Yep." He switched the comm. channel. "You okay, Sergeant?"

"A-OK, 009. What about you?"

"Cool as a cucumber. Be ready. The Covenant doesn't give up that easily."

"Yeah, true that. And, 009?"

"Yes?"

"The name's Avalos."

"Okay…Avalos." David settled back into his seat, sweeping the remains of the windshield off the dash. Beside him, Vinson in the passenger seat turned towards him. "I'm okay too, Spartan. Not that anybody cares."

David shrugged. "I thought you were dead, Corporal. My apologies."

The ODST growled, then turned his attention back to the tunnel.

Inside his helmet, David heard Celsius sigh. "'Avalos', is it? You're getting really informal with her, David. To think, on last name basis now!"

"I know. It's so unlike me. Next I'll be buying you Christmas cards and sitting with Marines at chow time."

"Don't get any funny ideas, although I wouldn't mind the Christmas cards. You know, so long as their virtual, and aren't those silly ones that sing horribly as soon as you open them."

"Those are exactly the ones."

"You evil bastard."

David grinned, but it died on his lips as they emerged from the tunnel into the sunshine. Eclipsing the light was the Bandit, back to bite them in the head.

Avalos swore. "You again!"

"Persistent piece of shit," Captain Ross remarked. "Rocket hog, that Bandit's all yours. Sic him."

"Sir, we're down to three rockets. We don't have a clear shot of that thing."

"You damn imbeciles! Shoot him now!"

The gunship took evasive maneuvers and began firing its plasma cannon, forcing the Hogs apart. David swerved, then tapped the Hog's passenger. "Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"Take over." With that David climbed out of the driver's seat and onto the gunner's platform.

"Son of a- !" The ODST scrambled for the wheel. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Get me to the Rocket Hog." David hung onto the smoking barrels of the 12.7mm, right next to Sergeant Avalos. The Hog hit a bump, and David grabbed her arm for balance. "Excuse me, Avalos."

"Yes sir." Her voice sounded faint. David glanced back and shook his head.

The LRV quickly fell in beside the Rocket Hog, then stabilized. David moved to the side of the Hog, holding on for dear life, then tensed, and leapt over, landing next to the Rocket Hog's gunner. The ODST swore. "What the fuck?"

"Move over." David shoved the man into the passengers seat, took the launchers control suit, and aimed through the computer sight. Far above him, the gunship swerved, spouting plasma that scorched the ground and burned the air.

In a Troop Transport Hog, an ODST screamed as a stray bolt pierced him through the chest. His corpse fell loose and was trampled beneath the thundering wheels.

David breathed slowly through his mouth, angling the barrel of the launcher to compensate for distance. Three shots…, he thought.

The gunship fired again, deliberately aiming for the Troop Transport carriers. The driver of the second one was killed, and the vehicle swerved crazily as the ODSTs fought for control. That was the same Hog the wounded were on.

David mashed down on the firing studs. The volley of rockets flew upwards, striking their target. The first destroyed the gun, the second hit the underside of the troop carriage, and the third destroyed the pilots cockpit. The ship veered off and disappeared. An explosion racked the ground as it crashed.

David sighed and relinquished control of the gun, jumping down into the passenger seat. He keyed his headset. "Troop Carrier 2, do you copy?"

The voice that answered was strained. "Yeah, we copy. Our driver's KIA but we're still moving. Wounded are intact."

He breathed. They were alright. Three ODSTs were dead, but that's okay. Everyone else had survived.

Everybody was quiet as the convoy pulled into the circle where the base was. At the far end was "Bravo's Nest", an enormous multi story complex at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a clear view of the surroundings. David could make out three carefully hidden Pelican gunships; a Heavy Machine Gun turret and three M247 light machine guns were on the balcony of the complex. From the top, a small black dot popped up, followed by a long Sniper Rifle barrel. A rigid voice sounded over the comm. "Halt! Identify yourselves!

"This is Captain Ross and company, Sergeant Ritchie. I don't think Covenant use Warthogs, now do they?"

"No, no sir. Hang on, we're opening garage doors now."

"Where's Anton?"

"Lieutenant Girard is on his way now. He'll meet you on the ground floor."

The convoy pulled into the spacious garage area. David jumped off the Rocket Hog, giving its gun a meditative pat and nodding to the driver. He walked over to the LRV, noticing that Sergeant Avalos was in the driver's seat. "Sergeant, what-?"

But he didn't need to finish. Slumped in the passengers seat was the nameless ODST David had left to drive when he transferred to the Rocket Hog. His visor was depolarized; his eyes were glazed over and dead. A burnt, gaping hole took up most of his chest.

Four. Not three dead, but four.

David gently took off the dead man's helmet, took a moment to examine his face. Then he closed the staring eyes and patted the man's shoulder. He turned to Sergeant Avalos. "I'm sorry." He said dispassionately.

"It's your fault." She muttered.

That stopped David in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"I said it's your fault." The Private jumped out of her seat and tore off her helmet. Her eyes, a beautiful shade of green, were red rimmed and livid. "The second you jumped out of the Hog you made us a target. Then you took so goddamn long to fire-"

"If I had fired any earlier I would have missed, and that gunship might have taken out the entire convoy instead of just two marines." David responded levelly.

"Bullshit! You went off to play hero and got him killed." She waved over to the dead ODST, eyes watering.

"It's not my fault." David moved to step past her, but she angrily put out a hand to stop him. Quick as lightning, he had wrapped her hand in his armored gauntlet and jerked her closer to face him. She peered up at him, fear in her eyes but defiant.

He spoke quietly, without emotion. "If you want to be pissed at me for doing my job correctly, go ahead. But don't toy with me." He let go of her hand and pushed passed her.

Captain Ross marched forward, followed by Lieutenant Anton "Pretty Boy" Girard, a lean, handsome ODST hailing from France back on Earth. The Lieutenant was tugging at his wispy goatee, clearly worried.

Ross wiped the sweat off his brow and grinned horribly. "Get the wounded off the Hog's and to the infirmary!" he roared. "Clear out the dead and cover them. All able bodied Helljumper's arm yourselves! Man the watchtowers! Steel yourselves! The Covenant are upon us!"

David glanced back towards Sergeant Avalos and unlimbered his Battle Rifle. "C'mon. We can finish this later."

The two soldiers raced alongside their comrades up the stairs and onto the several balconies overlooking the cul-de-sac. Bandit gunships were depositing dozens of Covenant troops onto the ground. David aimed down the Battle Rifle's scope, targeted the nearest Elite, and fired away. Beside him Sergeant Avalos loaded a fresh clip into her MA5B and unleashed a torrent of lead into the crowd of Covenant below.

Katy arrived on the scene with Rawlings and Schaefer, adding to the gunfire. Katy tapped Avalos on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm fine!" She yelled back.

It was far from a one sided battle; the dozens of Covenant returned fire with a vengeance, lighting up the air with green, blue and purple plasma. Cries echoed on both sides as wounded and dead fell. The smell of burning lead and flesh engulfed the soldiers.

Claire didn't feel the sting as a stray plasma bolt stung her arm. She was enraged- at the Covenant below, at the Spartan beside her, at life in general. She slapped a fresh clip in, fired until that was empty, then drew her M6C Magnum and fired crazily. She screamed in rage, immersing herself in the hate and the madness.

[04 April 2548]

[UNSC Firebase "Bravo's Nest", Metropolis City, UNSC colony Agricola]

[2035 Hours]

Claire shook herself out of her reverie and looked around. The Covenant had hit them on and off with everything from infantry to heavy artillery and air attacks until about 1900 hours. Then, with night falling and the temperature dropping, both sides had retired to lick their wounds, maybe start up again tomorrow morning.

Seven ODSTs had been killed in the attacks, another twenty wounded. That was out of an undersized one hundred twenty man infantry company. With no help on the horizon, that wasn't giving anybody any hope.

Claire's eyes wandered over to the black armored figure slumped under a stairwell. Although his face was hidden in the shadows, gentle snores issued every now and then.

Fifty-seven Covenant had been killed, three destroyed Ghosts, and one Wraith artillery tank had been destroyed in the attack. At least two dozen of those Covenant were dead thanks to Spartan-009. He had fought alongside the ODSTs with a cold ferocity, silently dropping charging Covenant in their tracks and fighting with Battle Rifle, Assault Rifle, Submachine Gun and even Magnum, mercilessly capping Grunts in the head. When the Covenant broke through in the garage, he had led the counter attack using a "borrowed" Heavy Machine Gun turret that he had ripped from its tripod like a toy. As soon as the last Covenant had retreated into the darkness, he had helped get wounded to the infirmary, then attended to his own wounds, scarfed down two Meals Ready to Eat, and finally situated himself under the stairs. He had been asleep for over an hour.

Schaefer, a cigarette dangling from his lip, waved over to the Spartan. "Would you look at that? Man blew up half the Covenant army then sleeps like a baby. Unbelievable."

Katy dragged her attention from the MRE she was working on. "Hey, you'd be tired too."

Atwood shrugged, drinking from his canteen. "What was unbelievable was the way he ate those MRE's. One minute, it was there, then the next, poof! Gone!" He shook his head.

Claire hadn't eaten any chow herself. She was still jumpy; her hands still shook a bit. Her adrenaline rush hadn't quite worn off yet.

Schaefer noticed. He shook his finger reprovingly at her. "No sense in letting the war ruin your appetite, Sergeant."

"Whatever. I'm sorry, but I can't play cat-and-mouse with the Covenant all day, covered in blood and sweat, and then come back with a hearty appetite."

Atwood was examining his sniper scope. "Clearly, 009 doesn't share your reluctance."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"What amazes me," Katy piped up, swallowing an enormous mouthful of food, "was that he just dropped off to sleep like that. On and off, like a light bulb. Like there's nothing else in the world."

Claire glared at the stairs. "Clear conscience.". She spat. The squad glanced up at their Sergeant. Her eyes were read and bleary. "Going to sleep is a lot easier when you think you're completely blameless in this god awful shitty mess."

Claire was especially remembering the Spartans dispassionate, "I'm sorry", back in the garage. He didn't even care that the ODST next to him had died.

She took a long drag on her cigarette, not trusting herself to speak again. Atwood glanced at her. "Those thing's will kill you Sarge."

"What are you, my mother?"

Keller growled.

Claire continued. "Besides, I probably have a bigger chance of dying from third degree plasma burns than of lung cancer."

Katy glared at her. "Don't talk like that! Jesus, you act like Guy Smiley over there!" He jerked his thumb towards the sleeping Spartan.

Atwood cleaned his rifle barrel with a rag. "Hmm, everybody be friends."

"Let's just stop talking about it." Katy tossed aside her empty MRE and lit a cigarette.

Schaefer didn't stop staring at Claire. "You should really eat something, Sarge. You look like hell."

"I will."

"The sooner the better. You don't know when the Covenant will come back."

Rage bubbled up in Claire again. She tossed her cigarette. "Jeez, will you get off my back already! All of you, just get off my goddamned back!"

She stomped away and sat on the stairs, just above 009. She turned her head towards the wall, trying to ignore her friends staring after her. Eventually, she sighed, shook a fresh cigarette out of her pack, and lit up, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs.

"You know, those things will kill ya." A voice said quietly below her.

Claire glanced down, startled. Then she groaned softly. "Oh God, how long have you been awake?"

"Long enough." A pair of bright brown eyes, narrowed in a half glare, peered up at her. "You seem to be tense."

"Yeah, no shit. How long did it take you to figure that one out?" She snapped.

The brown eyes didn't blink. The voice whispered, slow and laconic. "Hmm, you're pissed. At me, at Keller. You're hurting all over and you can't focus on one thing to hate, so you're just venting in every direction."

Claire was now thoroughly pissed off. "So what else can you tell about me, you sick bastard?" She settled back, blowing smoke into the darkness below her. "It's not like you even care. You didn't even know the guy's name."

The eyes dropped, but didn't look away. After a while the Spartan began speaking. "I saw his ID tag. Corporal P. Vinson, blood type A positive. I'm sorry he's dead, I truly am. I know that doesn't change anything, but a lot of other soldiers would have died if I hadn't waited to fire."

He paused, as if expecting her to protest. When she remained silent he continued. "We can't save everybody, Private Avalos. We minimize the risks and maximize the odds, as my AI partner so aptly spouts them, but sometimes it boils down to sheer blind luck. A flip of a coin can change everything."

Claire had laid her head on her arm and listened quietly to the Spartans speech. His voice was quiet, resonant, and almost hypnotic. She looked down into the brown eyes. "You really believe that 'flip of a coin' stuff, don't you?"

The brown eyes crinkled. "How do you think I was chosen to be a Spartan? A flip of a coin."

Claire smiled. "So that's how you rationalize it all away? Luck, lose one to save many?"

"It's either that, or I go insane."

She nodded. "So what happens when that doesn't work?"

The brown eyes blinked. "Alright, that? That is too personal."

"Sorry." She quickly decided to change the subject. "I was wondering, what's the deal with your armor?"

"You mean what's the deal with the smile?"

"No, I mean yes, but no. It's just that your armor's different than other Spartans."

"It's a prototype. MJOLNIR Mark Six, with several custom parts from various private companies. The helmets a special "Recon" variant of the standard issue model…"

His voice described the armor slowly and patiently. The gruff but smooth tone slowly lulled Claire into a doze, that warm place between sleep and waking. It didn't matter what he was talking about, so long as he talked.

Claire began fantasizing about what the Spartan looked like. His voice didn't have any color of accent, but she imagined nonetheless that he was dark haired, with strong features. Combine that with those piercing eyes of his and he was probably

-Hot-

A handsome man. She could almost picture him in her head…

Seconds later, it seems, she was being shaken awake.

"Private?"

"Hmmm?"

"Avalos?"

"Yeah." She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and came face to face with the evil grin. She froze, looked away quickly.

009 depolarized his visor. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I was just…startled." She stretched, looking around. The crowded room was dark. Most of the ODSTs were spread out, asleep. "What time is it?"

"0130 hours." He handed her a helmet. "C'mon. We're going on patrol."

"Patrol for what?"

"It's been pretty quiet out there. The Captain wants to know what the Covenant are up to. Your squads with me."

"Kay." She stumbled up, grabbed her rifle, and followed the Spartan down to the garage, where the rest of the squad already sat, looking sleepy and annoyed.

Captain Ross stood next to the open barn doors, smoking a cigarette. He motioned to the team. "Let's go, Bravo 2-B."

Claire shook the clinging remnants of sleep from her head, and motioning to her squad, walked out into the darkness. The squad filed in behind her.

Ross grabbed the Spartan on his way out. "Don't die out there, big guy."

"I'll do my best not to sir."

"Hey, I'm serious here! We lose you, we lose morale. We lose morale, we lose the fight here. We lose the fight here, we lose our asses. And I do not want to lose my ass this day. Savvy, Spartan-009?"

"…Savvy, sir."

"Good. Now get out there."

[05 April 2548]

[Metropolis city, UNSC colony Agricola]

[0149 hours]

After nearly seven hours of on and off bombardment, David had eaten and then slept hard for about four hours, curled under the stairwell. He had only paused once, to have a chat with Sergeant Avalos. That, in itself, was unusual. David was not the type to make small talk with marines, but then again, this wasn't exactly small talk.

He hadn't been lying to her; he was truly sorry, on a subconscious level that Corporal Vinson had been killed on his watch, but he also knew that it could have happened to anyone. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why some people couldn't accept the fact that they were living on borrowed time once they stepped foot into a warzone. Maybe it was his upbringing, maybe it was his dabbles in literature, but David had always had a "glass half full"
view of life. That was just the way he was.

He had talked himself to sleep, describing something about his armor, and had taken Avalos with him. Finally, awakened by an internal clock that still ran on arbitrary four hour intervals, he had been ordered out on patrol, and requested that Avalos, and her squad, come to back him up. He told himself it was because he had experience with the squad, and he knew that they were competent.

Yeah, sure, that's what it is, a snide little voice whispered in the back of his head, but he ignored the teasing.

Almost twenty minutes later, they had reached the downtown district, full of incredibly tall buildings, and he had led the team into one such tower, to get a bird's eye view of the surrounding area. They had reached the roof with no trouble, where Atwood began examining the surrounding area using a high powered multi-spectrum monocular. David had retreated into a corner, and gazed down into the city below him.

"Breathtaking view, isn't it?" Celsius murmured.

"Yeah, breathtaking." Pale moonlight filtered through the tall buildings, bathing the ground in an unearthly bluish light. David looked about, and caught sight of Sergeant Avalos. She had taken off her helmet and was tying back her raven black hair in a ponytail. Her pale face was almost glowing in the starlight. David had never seen a person with a Spanish surname with so light a complexion.

"Admiring the view?" Celsius asked innocently.

"No." David casually turned back to looking at the city below him.

"David, don't try to fib me. I've known you for nearly six years now, and I know that look."

"You're inside my head, and you say you can see my expressions? Who's fibbing who?"

"Fine, how about this? I track your biorhythms twenty four-seven, and for the last couple of cycles, your pulse has spiked every time you glanced at Sergeant Avalos. The last time that's happened was when Bristow gave you that puppy on Christmas."

"You're saying I'm experience puppy love?" He whispered irritably.

"You're attached to her, in your own little way. Don't try to deny it."

"Alright, I'm attached to her. It doesn't matter. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either we all die on this rock or we somehow hold out until reinforcements arrive, in which case I'll cadge a ride back to Reach and report in to Bristow. It's that simple."

"You know David, for such a level headed guy, you can be pretty naïve sometimes. It's never that simple. I'm just saying."

"Good-bye, Celsius." David undid the hinges on his helmet and carefully removed it, opening his mouth to take in great lungful's of the April night air. The cold, clear breeze felt good on his head, cleared his mind.

Timid footsteps approached, and a voice at his back said, "Hey, 009."

David recognized the voice by now. "Sergeant Avalos."

The ODST moved to his side. David glanced down at her, just in time to catch her glancing at him. They both looked away quickly.

"You need something, Avalos?"

Claire sighed. This wasn't easy for her. "This afternoon, when the convoy got hit? I…I'm sorry I blew up in your face. It wasn't your fault. When Vinson got hit, the Hog swerved like crazy and I almost broke both my arms trying to steer."

David nodded, eyes glued to the sky. "You had a right to be angry. I shouldn't have jumped ship like that." He noticed out of the corner of his eye that she smiled at the little joke.

"Yeah, guess I should have expected it though. You Spartans are all head cases."

"Only during a firefight." He teased.

She laughed. He liked the sound of it.

They stood in companionable silence, listening to Schaefer discuss something with Atwood.

"Was there something else?"

"Yeah. Back there in the square, when you covered me during the Banshee attack? In all the commotion, I didn't get a chance to say…thanks."

David nodded. "It was no big deal."

Claire blew breath out of her mouth exasperatedly. "What is it with you strong, silent types and 'it's no big deal'."

"What?"

"You probably saved my life, or at least saved my ass from some pretty serious debris. When you save somebody's life, it's usually a pretty big deal. Saying that its not is not only cheapening the act of saving the person, it's also devaluing the life of the person you saved. Once you think about it, saying 'its no big deal' is actually insulting the person you saved."

David rolled his neck in its socket. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"I had some thinking time, yeah."

David chose his words carefully. "We strong, silent types say 'its no big deal', because the act was ground into us as an instinct, a reflex. We say it's no big deal because we had to put so little thought into it. We react based on training, not consideration, with no thought for anything else. It's our gift," he concluded, "and our curse. Our fatal flaw."

"Your what?"

"If this was a novel, my reaction- my need to save somebody- could be seen as a fatal flaw, a characteristic of tragic heroes. This flaw would eventually lead to the hero's-my- downfall."

Claire was stunned by this statement. "What…where…?"

"I read a lot when I was younger." David said, almost shyly.

"Ahhhh…so if this was a novel, it would be a tragedy?"

"I don't know. I haven't read the end yet."

"Sarge! 009! Get over here!" Atwood sounded excited.

The two soldiers didn't bother to put on their helmets as they charged over to the corner where Atwood was pointing to the sky. "What is it?" Claire gasped.

"Look."

They followed the Corporal's gaze. High above them, in the blackness of the atmosphere, they could barely make out the Covenant assault group, hanging in low orbit. As they watched, a ball of fire erupted against the hull of a smaller cruiser, and it began to wobble in space.

A battle group of Human vessels had emerged from Slipspace ruptures to the right. Spearheading the assault was a familiar looking frigate.

"Is that…the Wolfs Sun?" Claire said in awe.

"You bet your ass, Sarge." Katy had depolarized her visor, eyes wild with glee.

"Well hello, Battle Group Normandy." Atwood gasped, squinting through the monocular.

For the next several minutes, the ODSTs stood on the roof in the cold night air, celebrating and cheering as the human assault group overran the much smaller Covenant group. Schaefer ripped off his helmet and jumped on the concrete railing, playing air guitar on his Shotgun. Atwood was busy laughing hysterically, flashing the finger every time a Covenant ship took a hit. Katy grabbed Claire in a bone crushing hug, tears running down her cheeks. Claire returned the hug, feeling tears gathering in her own eyes. All the fear, all the anger she had felt in the past twelve hours, it was all gone. They were saved.

The Covenant vessels, for once, were outnumbered. They began initiating Slipspace jumps. As far as David could tell, only one cruiser had gone down, but that was enough.

The alien ships disappeared. The human ships didn't bother to chase them

Claire let go of Katy and spotted David. The Spartan was staring at her, brown eyes calm and concerned. It was hard to see his expression in the dim light.

Without knowing why, but simply knowing that it felt right, Claire took three steps over and wrapped her arms around the Spartans waist. She felt him stiffen under her embrace. "Sergeant, what are you…?"

"This is called a hug, 009. Generally, people hug back."

Slowly, hesitantly, she felt his long, powerful arms gently wrap around her shoulders. She could feel the chill of his armor plates even through her own armor. "This feel's strange," she heard him say. She could feel the squad's eyes beginning to settle on them. None of it particularly mattered to her. All the tension, all the fear, all the hate that she had been carrying wasn't weighing her down right now. We're safe we're safe. Everything's going to be alright. Everything's going to be alr-

She suddenly realized that the Spartan had leaned down. She felt a light pressure on her forehead. And it suddenly occurred to her that he was kissing her. She froze, not sure what to do. He felt her tense up and suddenly he had pulled out of the hug- and the kiss he had laid upon her forehead.

The entire squad was staring at them. Katy's mouth had dropped open, Schaefer looked bemused, and Atwood's eyes bugged out of his skull. "Whoa, just whoa."

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but she caught sight of the Spartan. He had backed up quite a distance, and was in the process of putting his helmet on. He looked…almost, embarrassed.

The awkwardness was thankfully broken as Captain Ross's voice echoed over the comm. "Bravo 2-B, do you copy, over?"

Claire hurriedly slapped on her helmet. "Uh…yeah, Bravo 2-B is here, over!"

"Do doubt you saw the light show, boys and girls. I've been in contact with the Wolfs Sun. She's sending down Pelican's for extraction. Get your asses back to base and let's get the hell out of here."

"Understood, Captain. We're Oscar Mike." Claire turned back to the squad, looking sheepish. "Let's…uh, lets move out." Her voice sounded hoarse and faint.

The squad began filing down the stairwell to the ground floor. Claire paused, then walked over to 009, who hadn't moved. She checked his face. "Hey…did you hear? We're leaving."

"Yeah. Lucky us." His voice was expressionless. He looked up. "Think I can hitch a ride?"

Claire smiled at the joke, but all she got in return was the helmet's evil looking grin. "Sure. Come on."

They walked down to the ground floor in silence. And in her head, Claire was cursing everything and everyone.

Everything's going to be alright? HAH! Who was I kidding?