Chapter 5: Green Grass and Red Tides

[08 April 2548]

[Armory, UNSC Wolfs Sun]

[0945 Hours]

The eighteen soldiers that formed TORN VICTOR had made their quickly to the Wolfs Sun's armory. A colony was under attack; that meant they were about to earn their pay.

Once inside the armory, every soldier had to take a moment to adjust. The entire room, about half the size of the mess hall, was filled to bursting with weapons, ammunition, armor, and combat gear.

Lining one wall were racks of generic MA-series Assault Rifles, Misriah M6 sidearm's, SRS99 Sniper Rifles, and M247 GPMG's, with crates of ammunition corresponding to each weapon.

The far wall, however, was adorned with more exotic weapons: M6 SOCOM Automag's, whisper silent with armor piercing rounds, scoped and suppressed M7 SMG's, skeletal MA5K carbines, multi-shot XM511 grenade launchers, and a portable AIE-486 chain gun. Over this assortment was adorned, in gold Italicized script, the line: The People's Right to bear arms shall not be infringed.

To every soldier in TORN VICTOR, it was better than Christmas.

Schaefer whistled appreciatively as he examined the XM511 MGL had picked up. "So this is what the Army has been holding out on us, eh Rand?"

The Army LIDAR 'Scanner' shrugged as he attached a 40mm grenade launcher to his MA5K. "Not really. The reason that this particular model hasn't reached Helljumper hands yet is because its still experimental. If you don't treat it right, damn thing will blow up in your face."

Schaefer's hands faltered a bit. "Well, then I guess I should treat it right, huh?"

Rand grinned. "Yep, well, at least you don't have to worry about your body armor moving without you." He jerked his thumb over to where the David, in rapid succession, had already outfitted himself in his terrifying black armor. Two specialist technicians were busy running last minute diagnostics on the suit. The whole operation looked like the launching of a Longsword fighter.

Claire was curious. "What do you know about those Spartan armor suits, Rand?"

"A lot of bull with a little fact mixed in. The suits are specially built for the Spartans. They're fully sealed, with heavy armor plating- ceramic titanium, maybe, I'm not sure- and they have everything to make Spartans, Spartans. They got exoskeleton properties to enhance the user's strength, and first aid dispensers to heal wounds." Rand squinted at David, then shrugged. "However, our commanding officer's suit seems a little different than others."

"Yeah, we know. He's packing an AI in that tin can." Atwood said off-handedly, dusting off his Sniper Rifle.

"Wow. ONI certainly isn't stingy with its cash, is it?" Rand frowned as he saw Atwood's rifle, then reached behind him and dragged out a bull pup rifle with a scope. "Here Corporal, try this on for size."

Atwood caught the rifle and looked at it disdainfully. "What's this?"

"Army issue M392 Designated Marksman Rifle. 7.62mm with a fifteen round magazine and a 2x scope built in. Excellent choice for urban sniping."

The ODST eyed the Scanner with an incredulous look. "Do you realize what I can do with this rifle?" he raged, brandishing his SRS99.

"Quite frankly, I don't want to know. What I do know, however, is that you're on the Chief's squad, and no doubt he would want accurate, consistent marksman support while you're covering his ass."

Claire looked up. "Atwood's on David's squad?"

"Not just Atwood, you and your entire squad, Avalos." Rand gave her a strange look. "And since when do you call a ranking non-com by their first name?"

Katy smiled as she slapped a clip into a Pistols feed and aimed down the scope. "Since they became friends."

Now the look Rand was giving her was really strange. "Friends? With a Spartan? Jesus, girl, you are certainly full of surprises, now aren't you?"

Claire sighed disgustedly. "Look, what exactly is wrong with that? So I made friends with a Spartan? What's the big deal?"

"I can name about a dozen or so ODST's I know personally who could write books about how wrong that is. Are you not forgetting the Atlas incident, or has not one of your ranking officers told you?"

No, Claire had been told the story by at least six different ODST's of varying ranks and experience. According to the story, one Spartan, fresh from the augmentation process that had enhanced his physical abilities, tampered with the weights in the weight room. Four ODST's confronted him; in the ensuing brawl, three of the Helljumper's were killed and the fourth was practically crippled. That had pretty much sealed the relationship between Spartans and ODSTs from that time on.

"No, I heard about that alright. But let me ask you this: was David the one who killed those ODSTs? Or were any of us there? My god, that thing was what, almost twenty years ago, and people are still pissing about it?"

Rand looked at her gravely. "No, you're right, none us were there. But that Spartan killed three men, Claire, three soldiers. Now I personally don't have anything against the Chief over there and his kind, but the fact is that they were trained from childhood to be killers of utmost efficiency. That's not something to approach lightly."

Privately Claire snuck a glance at David. The technicians had left and he was busying himself, loading pistol rounds in an M6 SOCOM clip. His brown eyes were focused entirely on the magazine as his fingers deftly maneuvered the 12.7mm shells. He oozed competence and calculation.

"Maybe. But I'm not going to treat him differently just because of who he is."

Rand smiled. "You say that now, but chances are you're probably treating him differently already. Tell me this: how did he react when you first called him by his first name?"

Claire merely stared at him. Rand took this as the answer he was looking for and laughed softly. "I worked with a Spartan too, once. They are geniuses on the battlefield but have all the social graces of a stubborn kindergartener." He shrugged. "I'm not trying to piss on your 'friendship', I'm just trying to give you a sense of what you're getting into, that's all."

Claire barely listened. That familiar red haze was starting to cloud her vision, and she found that Rand's voice was an annoying insect buzz in her ear. "Thanks for the advice. You done? Because I need a weapon."

She walked towards the small booth where the quartermaster was passing out gear and weapons. The quartermaster, a mild, pale looking creature, eyed her with washed out blue-eyes. "What do you need, Sergeant?"

"A rifle and a sidearm, for starters."

"Any particulars?"

"MA5B assault rifle. The pistol doesn't really matter."

The quartermaster passed her the bulky assault rifle, hesitated for a moment, then passed her a handgun she recognized as an Automag. "I have a feeling you'll make good use of this where you're going, Sergeant. Good luck out there."

"Thanks." Claire took a moment to examine the pistol she had been given. The grip and trigger pull felt familiar, but the barrel, lengthened to accommodate a built-in suppressor, unbalanced the entire weight. It felt strange and bulky.

She felt a presence close in behind her, and a familiar voice at her back said, "You know how to use that thing?"

David stood behind her, his own Automag holstered at his side. She shrugged. "It feels a little barrel heavy, but its not exactly a Covenant plasma repeater. Zoom scope, aim for the chest, and empty the magazine until the Foxtrot falls down dead."

David shook his head seriously. "No, see that's all wrong." He gently took the pistol from her hands, removed a clip from his belt, and expertly loaded and charged the pistol. "You want to requisition extended clips to negate the heavy barrel and keep the balance. The big difference between the Automag and other models is the suppressor; increases relative accuracy and rate of fire but stopping power is weakened. The scope is two power, so you can use it to reach out and touch someone. Don't aim for the body, you'll just make anything you shoot mad. Zoom the scope, aim for the crown of the head. It's good for stealthy kills and infiltrations, but don't expect it to drop a charging Elite in its tracks." He paused to glance at Claire. "Did you follow all that?"

Claire took back her sidearm, carefully, and smiled. "Yeah, pretty much."

David sensed something, and his brow furrowed. "Did I…say too much?"

"No, not really. I've just never seen anybody cradle an M6 like they would cradle a baby."

David looked sheepish. "Some kids…grew up with teddy bears, I guess. I grew up with an Automag. Go figure."

Claire nodded. "It's okay. I think in the long run, an Automag is more comforting than a teddy bear."

David smiled fully. "My thoughts exactly." His eyes didn't leave hers.

The moment could have quickly turned awkward had not the quartermaster intervened. "Excuse me, Chief? I have a special package for you." He began lugging a bulky and oblong crate out from under a pile of boxes. "Just came in from the Aztec yesterday, addressed directly to you."

David accepted the crate, and flipped open the catches right there on the counter. He removed a note first, read it briefly, then examined the crates contents with an even bigger smile on his face than before. "I love you too, Bristow."

"What is it?"

David glanced at her, then passed her the note. She took it and read:

A weapon that will never let you down, for a person who will never yield. Happy early birthday, David!

-B

She read it again, then placed the note on the counter. "'A weapon that will never let you down'? What is it…?"

But she needn't have asked. From the depths of the crate David had removed a bulky and complex looking launcher. It was dark gray, with no visible moving parts and no ejection port. "What the hell is that?"

"Grindell Non-Linear Rifle, Anti-Vehicular; also known as the Spartan Laser." The look on David's face was akin to a kid who just got his first bike.

"Is that seriously a laser?"

"It is. He tapped the underside. "No chemical's in here, just one battery charge." He fingered a dial on the side of the weapon next to the trigger guard. "This button adjusts the strength of each shot. Minimum shot strength uses five percent of the battery."

Claire was fascinated with the exotic looking weapon. "So how much damage would that put out?"

"About enough to eliminate a Jackal Sniper, or disable a Ghost." He flipped the dial. "Maximum shot strength uses twenty percent of the battery."

"Four times the juice, so, four times the shot strength?"

"Give or take, yes. That would be enough to cut through nine Warthogs, lined bumper to bumper."

Claire shivered. "Nine? What the fuck, did you test this thing using Warthogs as target practice?"

David grinned. "Yep."

"So what about Covenant?"

"It would be enough to destroy a Covenant artillery tank with one shot, decimate a whole column of Grunts and Jackals, kill a Hunter or an Elite field commander, or shoot down a Bandit gunship, provided you hit the engine."

Claire shook her head. "And I'm guessing you have?"

"Yes, I have." David strapped the massive Spartan Laser to his back, magnetic plates clicking. He removed a smaller component from the crate. "This is the recharging module. Too cumbersome to take out into the field, so I have to make do with one charge."

"Wait…its your birthday?"

"No." David shook his head. "It's just Bristow's little joke. Personally, I'm grateful for it."

Claire's face suddenly darkened as a thought occurred to her. "You think we'll actually need firepower like that?"

David caught her meaning; his expression turned grave. "Yeah, we just might." He turned his head to the side, cleared his throat. "Get your squad ready. You're under my command on this one."

"I know." She tried to bring the smile back to his face. "C'mon, don't look so worried. I doubt you can get two squads killed in one week!"

The joke fell flat on its face. "Yeah," was all David said. Claire turned away, troubled again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed another figure detach himself from the line of soldiers and move towards her. Matt Keller had switched out his officer's uniform for a body suit that was similar to the suits David's original squad had used, back on Agricola. Claire noted he had an older, custom looking M6 pistol strapped to his chest and a suppressed SMG strapped to his side. He grinned as he approached her.

Just as Claire was about to turn and face him, a large bulk blocked her view. David had stepped in between them. "Do you need something, Lieutenant?" he growled.

Matt ignored him as he peaked around his waist to smirk at Claire. "Oo-ooh, so my instincts were right!" He glanced up at the Spartan blocking him. "So, you are sweet on her, aren't you?"

David laid a gloved hand the size of a catcher's mitt on the ONI Lieutenant's shoulder. "I'm just making sure you don't harass my team. It's called being a commanding officer-"

"-It's called being infatuated." Matt interjected. His eyes were dull and bland. "You had better learn that right quick if anything is to come of this relationship. And as for your chivalrous attitude Mr. David, Knight of the fucking ONI table, you can chuck that straight out the window." He turned the bland eyes back to Claire. "Claire doesn't go for the polite strong silent type. She prefers the edgy blonde types that…"

Claire didn't realize she had drawn back her fist to strike Matt until David had caught it with his other gloved hand. This seemed to encourage Matt if anything. "Now that's more how she likes it."

"Matt?" David's voice was calm, expressionless.

"Yes?"

"You appear to be emotionally compromised on this operation. Logically speaking, I can't allow you to accompany my team in this state your in. I have no choice but to bench you."

"Bench me?" Matt was no longer smiling.

"Yep, bench you. You're clearly not fit to go into combat at this time."

Captain Ross, flanked by two armored ODST's, entered the armory. "Chief, you and your prima donnas' ready? Rousseau has graciously informed me that we are fifteen minutes out. He wants your task force down in the Pelican bay two minutes ago."

David didn't avert his eyes. "Yeah, we're almost ready. Captain, can I ask you a favor?"

"Depends on the favor."

David glanced toward the ODST Captain. "Lieutenant Keller appears to be under a lot of stress right now. He's been harassing Sergeant Avalos and cursing out members of my team. I can't reasonably lead this man into action in the state he's in. I was wondering if you could escort him to the infirmary.

Ross cocked his head. "Keller, what on earth have you been up to son?"

"Murder and small-scale genocide; basically the same thing as my pseudo-commanding officer right here." He jerked his thumb towards David.

Ross's brow furrowed. He knew Keller, knew what he was like, but this edgy, wild eyed creature in front of him only vaguely resembled the competent squad leader he knew. He glanced at David, and saw in his eyes conviction. Anthony Ross was a brave man, but he was not foolhardy; he was not one to cross a determined Spartan.

Quietly he gave the order. "Sergeant's Pappas and Wagner, secure Lieutenant Keller. Escort him to the infirmary immediately. He's obviously suffering some sort of breakdown."

Keller blew his breath out of his mouth, smacked his lips. "And so it begins." He dutifully relinquished his sidearm and his submachine gun, and flanked by the two armored ODSTs, walked out of the armory. He glanced back once, looking pointedly at Claire. "Uh, I will see you, when you return from playing soldier. Ah, and if you don't return, then well, it was wonderful seeing you again."

Then he laughed, long and loud, as they filed out of the armory and into the corridor.

Silence pervaded the room in his wake. Claire turned back towards David, about to rebuke him for intervening, when she caught the strangest look in his eye. It wasn't anger, or amusement, or even smugness.

The look in his eyes seemed almost like regret.

Then it was gone, and he looked down at her. "C'mon." he muttered quietly. "Let's get to the Pelican."

The team was oddly quiet as they entered the docking bay and filed into the Pelican. David entered the cockpit and nodded to the pilot, a pale woman with fiery red hair and cool green eyes. "Chief Petty Officer Spartan-009, Captain Della Kennedy, your pilot today. Welcome aboard Romeo-Five One."

David gently shook her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Captain."

"Please, call me Red. My call-sign; when I hear it I know when to start picking up the pace." She adjusted her helmet, and before lowering her visor, smiled sweetly. "And Chief? It's an honor to meet a Spartan face-to-face."

"Noted, Red." David moved back to the hold, where TORN VICTOR sat on the benches, silent and shifting in their seats.

David's comm. crackled to life. "TORN VICTOR, this is Captain Rousseau, do you copy?"

"We copy loud and clear sir. What's the situation so far?"

"Bad and getting worse. The Covenant sent a small detachment, relatively speaking, and their busy harassing the colonies defenses. Ground troops have already been deployed in major cities to silence aerial defenses, give their ships the room to start glassing."

"So where are we headed?"

"Alexandretta; that's where the Covenant appear to be concentrating their attack. What does your AI have?"

Celsius spoke up, having remained silent for most of the time she and David had been reunited. "I'm already inside the Covenant battle net. I think they're getting sloppy on us, David. These encryptions are getting looser than a prostitute's-"

"That's enough, Celsius." The Captain sounded alarmed. David was starting to regret the times he had cursed while under Celsius's watch.

"Sorry, Captain. In any case, yes, the Covenant have already deployed ground troops, gunships, and heavy armor in Alexandretta. Their main target appears to be the UNSC garrison, but I'm also getting intermittent reports of casualties taken by human guerilla fighters. The people down there are giving them all kinds of hell. Unfortunately, this only seems to be pissing them off more."

"Chief, Romeo-Five One will insert you on the outskirts of the city. I want you to move in and link up with any UNSC forces still alive. Do not allow the Covenant to destroy those air defenses."

Sergeant Rand spoke up. "Captain, what about survivors?"

"Survivors are secondary objectives in this op. If the Covenant destroy those defenses, there won't be any survivors to worry about! Am I clear, TORN VICTOR?"

"Crystal, sir, we are Oscar Mike." David shouted up towards the front. "Red, let's go!"

"Roger that." With that the hatch closed, the ship bay doors opened, and the Pelican shuddered as her engines came to life. Red skillfully maneuvered through the doors, and suddenly they were in open space, just above the planets atmosphere.

David moved up front and peered out the cockpit. Below him, the planet Macedon filled his vision. It was a beautiful back water planet; if David didn't know any better, he would have said it was Earth.

He frowned as he saw the Covenant ships. At least half a dozen cruisers, a number of frigates, and even an Assault Carrier were looming over the planet. The fleet was probably three times smaller than their own, but they were already hovering dangerously close to the planets surface, which could mean only one thing: glassing.

And you know what that means David?

Shut up you piece of-

It means that there ain't going to be just fried ODST's tonight; there going to be fried colonists, baby!

David resisted the urge to spit. I would happily lobotomize myself with my own Combat Knife if it meant getting rid of you!

The voice laughed, in an eerily similar manner to the way Keller had laughed when the ODSTs had escorted him to the infirmary. You think I'm threatened by your promise of self inflicted torture? No way, Davy Boy. No freakin' way.

David returned to the hold and examined his troops. TORN VICTOR didn't look like a bunch of hard nosed heart breakers; they looked like scared recruits on their first mission, green as grass and full of piss and vinegar.

Atwood appeared to notice this, because he suddenly piped up, his thin voice somehow carrying over the roar of the Pelican's descent. "Hey, it just occurred to me that we are a bunch of badass motherfucking commando's on our way to kill Covies and take names, and we don't have a war anthem to trumpet us into battle! Pilot! Does this rig have a sound system?"

"Hell yes it does." Came the reply.

"Then would you mind terribly if I plugged in a little rhythm to blaze our path into battle?"

"Hell no I would mind. Be my guest."

Atwood briefly went into the cockpit and plugged in a tiny disk. Immediately a series of spacey, hyped up guitar rhythms' filled the hold that quickly reached crescendo and smashed into a pulsing rock anthem. Electric guitar and drum intertwined as synthetic voices repeated one word: "Follow". Like magic, the mood picked up. Schaefer saluted Atwood and began playing air guitar on his shotgun. Other soldiers roared their approval, thumped each other on the back, and tapped their boots in time with the racing beat.

David depolarized his visor and briefly caught Claire's eye. She was laughing, grinning, and looking more at ease than he had seen her in a while. She matched his gaze. He shrugged, tapped the evil grin on his chin, and winked. Claire's grin grew wider and flashed him a thumbs-up.

At least there's that.

That was the last time he felt that good all day.

[08 April 2548]

[Alexandretta, Macedon, Hydra System]

[1005 Hours]

There was a whirlwind of air and dust as Romeo-Five One ascended into the air. "I'll be on stand-by for evac, TORN VICTOR. Just give me a holler."

"Acknowledged Five One, see you soon." David released the comm. and shouldered his Battle Rifle. "Rand, once we're inside the city, I want you to take your squad through Delta sector. Sweep for survivors and link up with any active friendlies."

"Ah, so this is the two pronged assault then, is it?"

"Copy that. Corporal Wheeler, take point."

The ODST nodded silently, raised his suppressed SMG, and moved forward at a half crouch. David hadn't heard him say a single word yet; the man was simply mute. He waved Claire and his squad up. "Let's go."

The two teams quickly entered the outskirts of the city, moved down a side alleyway, and passed through a pedestrian tunnel that spilled out into a small public park. David breathed heavily, tasting the air that was filtered through his helmet. He could smell grass, fresh and green, mixed with the faint aroma of vehicle exhaust and the fresh tang of

Blood

Not to mention the strange, sweetish cloying odor that he had long ago associated with Grunts.

As if to concur with his thoughts, Wheeler raised a clenched fist. David keyed his comm. "You got something?" He received a tacit nod in answer, and asked a second question, "How many?"

The ODST tapped his visor, pointed slightly to his right, and held up four fingers. He deftly pantomimed the strange waddling gait of Covenant Grunts.

"Four Tango's, Grunts, out in the open." He holstered his Battle Rifle next to his Spartan Laser, drew his Automag and released the safety. "Let's do this quietly. Avalos, Rand, on me."

The three, with Wheeler in tow, slunk out of the tunnel and took shelter behind tree planters. David's expert eye picked out the bright crimson and burnt orange of the alien uniforms. He tapped Claire's shoulder, directed her to take aim at one Grunt manning a plasma turret on the balcony of an outdoor greenhouse. Rand sighted a second Grunt next to him, and David and Wheeler drew separate beads on two Grunts patrolling below.

"On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!"

There were a spatter of muffled coughs, and each Grunt fell to the ground dead, neat holes in their heads. Claire rose from her hiding place, surveyed the area, and nodded. "Alright, I think that was it-"

"Get down!" David hissed. Too late.

An enraged, guttural roar resounded from Claire's left, and she swiveled just in time to see a wall of blue armored animal come bursting from the shadows. A weapon flashed, and she registered a heavy pistol contraption with wicked curved bayonet before she dove to the side- just in time to dodge a series of red hot spikes the size of pencils embed themselves in the space she had just vacated.

David rose to his feet and the creature growled and shifted its fire, but flinched as gunfire peppered its armor, reverberating off an energy barrier.

"Wheeler!" David called too late as the taciturn ODST rose from his hiding place, SMG blazing. He closed distance rapidly with the gorilla sized beast, mercilessly shooting it until its armor fell apart with a loud clang. Enraged, the beast bent and began charging. Claire's heart squeezed as she glimpsed shining white fangs and gleaming ruby eyes.

Wheeler rolled gracefully as the creature attempted to head butt him, and his boot came up, connecting with the beasts chin. It howled in agony, but before it could react, Wheeler had drawn his pistol, stuck it in the gorilla's chin, and pulled the trigger. There was a muffled bang as the bullet went through one ear and the beasts brains came out the other.

"What the hell was that thing?" Rand whispered.

David calmly reloaded his pistol, checking the ejection port. "Brutes, big hairy gorilla's with real bad attitudes. They're a hell of a lot worse than Elites." He emerged from his cover and swept the immediate area. "Rand, get out here. Sweep and clear the area." He holstered his pistol and helped Claire up.

She dusted herself off. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking-"

"You weren't." David's voice was taught as a length of twine. "Don't make a habit of it. Is that clear, Sergeant?"

Claire didn't immediately answer.

"Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Chief." Claire stiffly holstered her Automag, drew her Assault Rifle, and moved on.

Rand came back with two of his squad. "Area's clear." He motioned towards the east. "Looks like this road leads straight out onto the main street. That'd be the best shot to get us to any friendlies still breathing."

"Yep." David touched his ear. "What do you say, Celsius? How does our path look?"

"According to Covenant reports, they already swept through this area. Anything you'll encounter will probably be stragglers or rear guard, nothing too heavy." Her voice was anxious, something not lost on the Spartan. "David, there's something else. Covenant forces appear to be massing in a sports arena, approximately two clicks from your position. I can't make out everything, but they're going there for a reason-"

"-which means we should be following suit. Consider it done." He tapped Rand on his helmet. "Sweep Delta sector, link up with any forces you find, and make sure those anti air artillery. Don't try to play hero, get me?"

Rand depolarized his visor and eyed the Spartan strangely. "What part of that does not involve 'playing hero'?"

"The part where you risk those AA guns for some dime-a-dozen colonist. You can be the hero or you can be the guy who gets the job done, its your choice. As for me, I'm hoping you're the guy who gets the job done." David concluded smoothly. "So, you get me?"

"Yeah, yeah I get you."

"Good, now get your squad moving." David motioned for his own squad, and the two teams parted ways. Not that it really mattered.

They were both heading for the some destination: the belly of the beast.

10 minutes later…

The back entrance to the stadium loomed large in front of them. With a practiced eye, David scanned the structure, from the ornate parapets on the roof to the solid buttresses that made up its middle to the yawning tunnel entrances that gaped like the mouths of pythons.

"No contacts. Move up. Avalos, take right. Schaefer, left."

The commando's silently hurried across the open, deserted street into the comforting dimness of the buildings shadow. On the other side, presumably on the field where human athletes would pummel each other into the earth in an age old game called "soccer", the sounds of life were clear and distinct, contrasting sharply with the deadness of the city around them.

Claire sorely hoped that human resistance fighters had holed up in this arena, but by the sounds emerging from the interior, and the fact that in ten minutes and six square blocks they had not come across a single human, living or dead, she had a feeling the company on the other side was not friendly.

Across from her, on the other side of the tunnel entrance, David tilted his head up and examined the structure's above them. She heard him whispering to his AI in his helmet.

She suddenly noticed that beyond them, the tunnels spilled out into an atrium, with stairs leading upwards where, presumably, VIP boxes were located. "Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Atrium beyond looks clear. Those stairs probably lead to a good vantage point."

David followed her indicative finger, nodded, then motioned for the rest of the team. "Good eyes, Sergeant Avalos."

Claire smiled slightly beneath her visor.

Five minutes later, she wished with all her heart that she had never suggested, even thought of suggesting this route.

The atrium was indeed clear, albeit trashed and stained with human blood, the stairs did indeed lead up into VIP rooms with clear view of the field below them, and the field below them was filled with-

Claire could feel her pupils dilate as her eyes, against her will, widened to take in the grotesque view below. Atwood gagged audibly in his helmet as Schaefer muttered strangled curses under his breath. On her left, Katy gasped in horror. David remained silent behind his helmets grin.

The field below was hopping with multitudes of Covenant. Everywhere were the rainbow colors of various Elites, Grunts, Jackals, and Brutes. Hovering close to the earth like a monstrous insect was a Bandit gunship, huge and glowing purple. And throughout the field, completely covering the green, green grass was the slick crimson of human blood.

Claire could feel a scream rise in her throat as she watched the carnage. A huge crowd of humans lay in a pit excavated in the middle of the field, probably from the miniature suns those Covenant tanks spat from their cannons. Even from a distance, Claire could make out horrified expressions on the faces of the dead, loved ones locked in death's embrace as rigor mortis slowly set in.

Men lay where they fell, some gripping weapons they had made a blind rush for in a final act of defiance. Mothers cradled their children to their breasts as if the comfort of their embrace could ward away the burning plasma. Moans of the dying and screams of the living were muffled by the dull roar of the gunship; besides, they were quickly being cut off as the aliens calmly moved among them, executing every breathing body with a quick pistol shot to the forehead. Some, however, weren't so quick, as overzealous Elites and salivating Jackals would pump bolt after bolt of ionized energy into the bodies of humans.

Claire saw a group of Jackals fighting and snarling over the bloody corpse of a middle aged man; the limbs flopped like rag dolls as they clawed it. In her mind she could feel the thought flap like a sheet on a wire, wake up wake up if only I'd wake up from this-

NIGHTMARE, David thought. His mind was spinning, his thoughts were racing. He felt light headed, as if he were having an out of body experience.

It's a cliché, he thought as he felt his hand dip for the Battle Rifle he had holstered on his back. It's a bad action movie cliché, gratuitous pulp for tired filmmakers looking to add emotion to their gung-ho violence. Cold hearted hero see's enemy atrocities, becomes compassionate and emotionally driven to complete his missions, ends up defying orders and logic to satisfy his own bloodlust. This thought raced through his mind like an insane thoroughbred as he numbly removed the rifle from his back and released the safety. It felt like he was moving in slow motion as he raised the weapon to his shoulder; the irony was not lost on his calcified mind. Slow motion scene right before the massive gunfight in which all the heroes are killed. It's all a cliché…

"You…ugly…motherFUCKERS!" The strangled gasp snapped David back into his soldier mode, and the signature click of a pistol being cocked brought his body back into action. He whirled and grabbed Katy's gun hand just as she reached the window to begin firing. She struggled in his grasp like a caught fish. "Get offa me, get OFF!"

He forced her hand, whirled her around, and pinned her against the glass. "Shut up." He whispered fiercely.

"Get your fucking hand off of me…!"

"Stop it, that's on order, Private!" He depolarized his visor and locked eyes with hers. He could see the fresh shine of tears, even through the bulky ODST visor. "Think about this. Dozens of Covenant are down there. You open fire, you bring them to us, and we end up like those people in that pit: dead. Dead and for what? Nothing, nothing except a field full of people we couldn't help anyway!"

The team had suddenly gathered close, as if to silence her with claustrophobia. Claire pushed in and wrapped her arm around the Private's shoulders. "Katy, you have to keep calm. They're dead, I know, but we can't do anything about it. You can't lose it right now." Her voice was bordering on hysteria itself.

Sounds of faint sobs were emanating from Katy's helmet. Claire gently pulled the contraption off, along with her own helmet, and pressed her head to Katy's. She sobbed into her collar. "So many…so many are down there…"

"I know, but we were too late. There's nothing we can do about that." Claire responded gently.

David swallowed, mouth dry. He suddenly wanted to extricate himself from this emotional moment; this wasn't his forte, not by a long shot. Still keeping his left hand on Katy's pistol in her hand, he keyed his comm. "Victor-Omega, this is Alpha. What is you status, over?"

Rand's voice crackled over the comm. "Quiet all along the western front, Alpha. We've covered at least half of this sector, and haven't found a single living soul. But we found the artillery."

"And?"

"Shot to hell sir. Dead loss. We're finishing up here looking for survivors, but-"

"Don't bother. We're too late. The Covenant beat us to the punch."

"Roger that." David could hear the pang of sorrow in the other mans voice. "You want me to radio the Wolfs Sun?"

"Do it. We'll fall back and meet you at the primary exfil point. ETA, fifteen minutes. Alpha, over and out." He let go of the comm. button and turned his attention back to Katy. She had stopped gasping, but her eyes were red rimmed and she looked exhausted. "You cool?"

She sniffled, hiccupped. "Yes sir."

"Cool as an ice cube?"

She nodded slowly, and he felt her hand twitch in his grip. "Chief, you can let go of my hand now."

He looked down; her fist was almost completely lost in his gauntlet. "Oh."

A slight sound caused the entire team to whirl around towards the door.

A lone Grunt, wearing the crimson of a squad leader, stood in the doorway. His beady eyes were bulging in their sockets as he gazed at the group of heavily armed humans barely ten feet away. He held something in his claw, something hard to make out. David, by squinting, could finally determine what it was, and realized later that it added the cherry to the sickly comic aspect of a normally unfunny situation.

The red armored little bastard was carrying a teddy bear.

Atwood squeaked, literally squeaked. That seemed to break the captivating spell holding everybody in place. The Grunt jumped a foot into the air and dropped the teddy bear. He chattered frantically in his strange, high pitched voice.

David reacted on instinct. His fingers tightened around Katy's hand, jerked her arm up, and forced her finger, locked against the trigger, to squeeze.

In the plush interior of the VIP box, the Pistol's shot sounded like a cannon's roar. The Grunt flipped end over end and landed on its face, or what was left of its face, and lay still, slick blue fluid spurting across the carpet.

David felt his hands carefully remove the pistols from Katy's limp palm. He calmly ejected the clip, removed the single round in the chamber, and examined the M6 model D Pistol. "I really got to get me one of these."

Claire's voice was strangled. "Shit…that thing was loud…"

Atwood was peering down the scope of his DMR, looking out the window. "Chief, we got a serious problem here. Covenant down there are going ape shit. Time to fuck off and haul butt, I think."

"Noted. Sergeant Avalos, take lead. Start heading to the extraction point." David handed the Pistol back to Katy and began looking around the room, searching for something.

"What the hell are you going to do?"

"Slow down the Covenant. Don't worry, I'll be right behind you."

"Jesus, what happened to the 'no hero' stuff?"

David found what he was looking for: a grey and red door marked 'Emergency'. He strode over to it, drew his foot back, and smashed the lock open. "This isn't hero shit. This is looking out for my team. Have to do something right by you, don't I?"

"I-"

"Go. Now. I'll be with you in two minutes." With that, David disappeared through the door and was racing up the metal stairs, boots banging on every step. Part of him questioned the validity of his judgment, staying behind to cover his team.

But he'd be damned if another Agricola massacre would happened under his watch.

He reached the roof with little trouble, just in time to catch an Elite, wearing the anti-grav apparatus of the Ranger type, land on the roof. The aliens eyes bugged out and he reached for his plasma rifle, but David was faster, and tackled the beast, snapping its neck before it could fight back.

Rousing himself, he drew the bulky Spartan Laser off his back, and flipped the dial to full blast. It would take three, four seconds for the laser to charge that much energy, three precious seconds…

Too late to back out now.

David reached the edge of the roof, aimed down the advanced scope, and sighted the biggest target in the area: the Bandit gunship, still hovering over the field. He could hear faint roars as sharp eyed aliens spotted him, and the Bandit shifted to bring its plasma cannon to bear- giving David a clear shot at the pilots seat.

There was an earsplitting ZWOOOOOSSHHH as a bolt of crimson light lanced from the Spartan Laser and connected with the cockpit, destroying it in a burst of white hot power. The ship careened drunkenly and plowed a furrow into the arena ground, taking at least half a dozen Elites with it. David smiled, stowed the Spartan Laser, and turned, sprinting to the other end of the roof and leaping off of it. He landed fifty feet below, cracking the pavement below him. He felt something creak in his joints, but he brushed it off and began sprinting towards his retreating team, many of whom were glancing back at the noise emanating from the arena.

Claire caught sight of him. "What the hell was that?"

"A parting gift. Didn't want that gunship following us."

The team said little more as they raced through the empty, deserted streets, bypassing blocked area's, and reaching a cul-de-sac just in time to meet a pair of Ghosts, who appeared to have heard the disturbance and come to investigate.

Claire grit her teeth, eyes searching wildly for one, any escape route. They finally landed on a sewer grate. "Chief!" she yelled, pointing.

David glanced down, caught her intention, and grasping the grate in both hands, ripped it from his hinges. "Everyone, below, now!"

The commando's dove into the sewer. David followed last, just as the first Ghost came barreling past trying to crush him.

Flashlight's beamed on, and Corporal Wheeler, still silent and taciturn throughout all this, motioned towards a tunnel straight ahead of them. By crouching, everyone, even David in his bulky armor, could squeeze through. The Spartan waved him on. "Go ahead, Wheeler."

Schaefer flicked on the light on his own shotgun, looked around. "And the shit just keeps on coming." He lifted his boot momentarily, sighed disgustedly. "Literally too."

"Schaefer, can it. Celsius, what's the chatter on the battle net?"

"The Covenant were scared shitless by what you did to their gunship, but they're scrambling now, looking for you."

"Any reports on Victor-Omega?"

"No disturbances reported in their sector, so I can assume they've maintained their stealth. However, every soldier in a ten block radius has been alerted and are on their way to search for us- and that is a lot of Covenant."

"Scramble them, punch a hole in their kill zone. We're in the sewers heading towards the exfil point primary."

"I'll do what I can, but- damn, Captain Rousseau wants to talk to you. I'm patching him through."

The Captains voice echoed over the comm. "TORN VICTOR, what the hell is going on down there, over?"

"FUBAR, sir. AA guns have been disabled, and Covenant own the streets. We're extracting now."

"Wait, what about survivors?"

"None; we were too late sir." David stated flatly.

"Are you sure? Have you done sweeps-?"

"Covenant are burying bodies by the hundreds in the arena. We covered sixteen blocks and didn't see a soul. This city is dead, sir. I'm sorry."

"Goddamnit. Well, then this wont matter much then."

"What is it, Captain?"

"Covenant reinforcements are already showing up. At least half a dozen more ships, including heavy cruisers. They've already started glassing the far side of the planet." The Captain swore fluently over the comm.

David, for once, felt like he could sympathize. "Captain, how many Longswords are in action right now?"

"All active squadrons are deployed."

"Weapons?"

"Uh…standard armaments all across the board. Chief, what are you-?"

David sighed. "I want two fighters with Shiva warheads to peel off and bomb Alexandretta." Ahead of him, he saw Claire and Katy glance back at him, their alarms clear even through their visors.

"Chief, I can't authorize that. Not if there is even a chance that a human refugee is alive down there."

"There isn't." He replied, his voice cold. "You gave me unlimited resources, sir. Now I'm calling them in."

Silence on the other end. Then came the reply, stiff and dead. "Fine. I'm redirecting two Longswords now, ETA fifteen minutes. You had better be out of the city by then Spartan, or may God have mercy on your souls. Rousseau, out."

David shut off his comm. "God isn't here," he muttered to himself.

Claire continued to stare at him. Hate radiated out of her posture. "That's the plan? Haul ass, nuke the city, and forget any person who might still be alive-?"

"Yes, it is. If you want, stay and look for survivors."

"Then I will!" Katy interjected; she whirled around, still gripping her Pistol. "I would sure as hell stay even if you dropped a fucking nuke on my head! Even if there was only one person left in this goddamn city-"

David grabbed her by the shoulder and slung her to the side of the cramped tunnel. "Then stay." And, he thought, thank your God you have the luxury to give it all up for one person, you bitch.

The evil voice crooned, atta boy, Davy. Atta boy.

Claire turned, eyes livid, and tried to reach for her friend, but David blocked her and shoved her towards the front. "No. She wants to stay, let her. Everyone else, keep moving."

"You bastard." She whispered.

He didn't respond. He was suddenly tired of talking, just wanted to crawl out of this godforsaken tunnel, get the hell out of this doomed city, and try to forget this entire mission.

God isn't here.

Of course, like so much else, that just wasn't in the cards that day.

The team emerged from the sewers in a wide boulevard, just as a Bandit gunship landed, dropping off a variety of Brutes. The humans froze as the hulking aliens caught sight of them, and snarled viciously. Heading the pack was an enormous specimen dressed in elaborate crimson armor and wielding a cudgel the size of a man. He slammed it to the ground, and electrical bursts emanated from its head.

David breathed. "That's a Brute Chieftain."

"What the hell is he holding?" Atwood whispered.

"Gravity hammer. One hit will send you flying like a rag doll."

On his right, Wheeler racked the bolt of his submachine gun. "Well, lets do this." And before anyone could absorb the fact that he actually spoke, he had hurled a fragmentation grenade towards the Brute pack, only fifty feet away. The grenade detonated, bursting energy shields on many of their armor suits but generally pissing them off. The Chieftain raised his hammer in one claw and pointed towards the Commando's with the other, roaring in his thick alien tongue.

"Weapons free, fire!" David rolled to the side as a wave of pencil-length spikes filled the air. He came up on one knee, Spartan Laser shouldered and blast charging. The Chieftain saw him and began charging straight at him. Forty, thirty, twenty…twelve feet. David could see the red eyes gleaming madly, the saliva strands hanging from the corners of the beasts mouth. The Brute raised his hammer to strike…

ZWOOOOSSSSHHH. The Spartan Laser roared, and a smoking, cauterized hole the size of a basketball appeared in the center of the Chieftain, and the two Brutes behind him. Triple Kill, he thought. The moment couldn't be savored, however, as the Chieftain's guard came charging over his fallen leader's corpse, roaring in rage. David ducked and parried the beasts insane blow with his Laser, drew his combat knife with his free hand, and stabbed the Brute in the neck. It roared and clawed, but he slammed the Laser's end into its face, toppling it to the ground.

"RUSSELL!" David whirled in time to see Corporal Russell, a Scanner, get torn in half by a Brute. He made the swap to his Battle Rifle and took aim, but a grenade shell connected with the alien's head, exploding it. Schaefer knocked the corpse to the ground and pointed over David's shoulder. "Chief, on your six!"

David turned and fire three bursts, knocking back the first in a wave of Grunts and Jackals that had leapt out of a second gunship. No time to switch to the Spartan Laser, he tossed a frag grenade to wax the rest, then turned his attention as mixed squads of Grunts and crimson armored Elites came pouring out of a corner.

God isn't here, not by a longhsot.

He keyed his comm. "Victor-Omega, we are heavily engaged and taking casualties. What is your status, over?"

"Oscar Mike, Victor-Alpha. We hear the gunfire, stand-by for an assist."

"No time, Omega. Longswords are en route to raze the city. Get out of here, we'll catch up."

"Negative."

"That's not a suggestion, Sergeant. Romeo-Five One isn't going to wait forever."

"No offense Chief, but I'm not about to be the one reporting you KIA. Ah, here we are. Team, weapons free!"

A SPNKR rocket flew with frightening speed and demolished a lance of Grunts and Jackals charging straight for the Spartan. Two Elites were shredded by Assault Rifle fire as a wounded Brute reached for a spike rifle and was rewarded with a grenade shell to the face. On the other end of the boulevard, a familiar figure in CQB armor waved and reloaded the grenade launcher on his MA5K.

David hustled to meet Rand and the rest of Victor Omega. He shook his head disapprovingly. "I said keep going."

"You might've said 'Gee, thanks Rand, for saving our asses from potential annihilation." Rand glanced left as Claire joined them. "You okay, Claire?"

"Fine. We're getting nuked, Rand."

"Yeah, so I'm told. Who gave the ord-?"

"The Chief of course." The ODST jerked her thumb disdainfully at the Spartan.

Rand glanced at David, shrugged, looked away. "Well, a nuke wouldn't have been my first choice, but it wasn't my call."

"And make sure to thank God it's not." David said with a withering glance at Claire. She looked away too.

"No Chief, I'm not saying- I…just…don't think I would have been able to make that call…" His voice trailed off as he spotted something on the horizon. "Shit, contacts inbound!"

"Reinforcements!" Schaefer thundered over the comm. David fed a fresh clip into his Battle Rifle, issuing rapid fire orders like gunshots. "Avalos, start falling back with Alpha. Cover Omega. Rand, staggered line, suppressing fire, now!"

"On it!" Rand motioned to his machine gunner, who dropped to his stomach and began pumping lead from his GPMG. David directed the rest of Omega to set up a front line to cover his own team, then switched to his Spartan Laser, took careful aim, and fired. He missed the Cockpit but the left troop compartment was engulfed in a ball of fire. The ship tried to maintain balance, failed, and dropped to the ground.

The right troop compartment, however, successfully deployed its load of Brute warriors, who immediately began charging towards Omega team. Meanwhile, a second Bandit was moving in on the left flank, Grunts and Jackals tumbling like a wave from her troop compartments. David fired his second to last laser, destroying that gunship as it tried to sweep past and raze the soldiers with plasma cannon fire. The air was ripped apart as bullets, plasma, and spikes sung, found targets, and felled them with multiple hits. An air force CRC commando screamed as he took a spike to the arm, while another made no sound as he was filled with Needler quills and was ripped in half from the ensuing explosion. A plasma grenade sailed through the gunfire, connecting directly with Rand's helmet. The Scanner ripped the contraption off, face twisting, and hurled it back, catching quite a few Grunts in the blast.

David keyed his comm. "Omega, fall back! Fall back! Alpha, covering fire!"

One by one, the members of Omega twisted and sprinted, tapping the shoulders of the commando next to them to alert them to move. Alpha, crouched in the relative safety of the buildings, covered the retreat.

The comm. screeched with static as David heard Claire yell, "Rand, come on, MOVE!"

The Scanner was alternating fire between his MA5K and its grenade module, dropping Covenant soldier after Covenant soldier. David roared, "Rand, on your two!"

In response, he whirled and sent a grenade shell into two elites, both wielding bulky, complex looking weapons David recognized as Concussion Rifles. The first elite was killed directly by the explosion, and the second fell to its knees, its shields broken.

David waved him on and dropped another two Brutes with his Battle Rifle. "Move, Rand, come on-!" He began sprinting towards the rest of his team, Rand close behind, but something-

"RAAAANNNDDDD!" Claire screamed.

David turned and saw the second Elite, wounded but still alive, rise and aim its Concussion Rifle directly at Rand. As if in slow motion, he saw the Scanner eject the spent shell from his grenade launcher, load a fresh one, and take aim, but took aim knowing all the time that the Elite was doing the same thing, and that neither one was going to move…

David turned his feet and hurled himself forward, too late. Rand fired at the same time the Elite launched his own round. Both projectiles found their marks; the Elite was blown off its feet and did not rise, and Rand was hurled up, flipped sideways, and landed with his back on the pavement, eyes staring blankly into eternity. His empty rifle clattered to the ground beside him.

"NOOOOOOOO!" David, for a moment, couldn't tell who was screaming, until he realized that it was Claire's voice, screaming into his ear as she tried to rush towards him. He caught her and dragged her back to the rest of the task force. She beat against his armor. "Let me go, let me go-!"

"He's dead!" David yelled. "There's nothing we can do!" He turned back briefly to fire his Battle Rifle at incoming troops, then made it to the safety of the buildings. "Let's move! Don't look back!"

It took the weary soldiers another eight minutes, eight agonizing minutes of running with the sounds of screeching and plasma weapons at their backs, before they reached the exfil point. Romeo-Five One was already there, hovering close to the ground. Captain Kennedy's voice rang over the comm. "Let's go, boys and girls, we're out of time!"

David, still holding onto Claire with one arm, hauled her aboard the Pelican with the rest of TORN VICTOR, and deposited her on the nearest seat. She had stopped screaming and was now completely silent. Her visor was polarized.

"Close the hatch, Red."

"Got it, Chief. You have a communiqué waiting for on the line."

"Patch it through." David pressed a hand to the headset in his helmet.

"TORN VICTOR, this is Longsword squadron-211. Waiting for your orders, over."

"211, this is TORN VICTOR. Fire mission, danger close. Enemy armor and infantry throughout target area. Weapon package Sierra, deploy at center of target zone, over."

"Chief, that's within half a mile of your position!"

"That's why I said danger close. Drop the bombs."

"Roger, Chief. Two minutes, stand-by for fire mission."

David banged on the hull. "Do some distance, Red."

"Roger." He heard the Captain breathe. "Sir? I'm sorry."

David didn't reply. His gaze came to rest on Claire. She sat forward, her shoulders hunched, she was the picture of despair. That strange instinct in the back of David's skull reared its head again, and suddenly David found himself reaching for her. She slapped his hand away. "Get the fuck away from me!"

He persisted. "Claire, stop it! Please, no-" as she tried once again to pull away from him. He sat down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close as if to reassure her with his touch. She struggled violently, but he held on tight, and she finally gave in and collapsed against him. She pulled off her helmet and buried her face against the black under suit under his head. She sobbed quietly into his neck as he pulled off his own helmet. Her tears splashed against the suit. "H-he's gone…he's gone…"

"It's not over." He whispered into her hair. "We're going to make them pay, Claire. I promise."

She said nothing more; fresh sobs were muffled against his suit. He said nothing more as he held her in his embrace, knowing full well that it didn't make any difference, but feeling that it was the right, the only thing, to do. This wouldnt bring back Rand, and all throughout David felt slightly guilty, as if he were taking advantage of something he didn't entirely understand.

But all the same, he held her. Today had been the worst in a long while, and the only hope lay in tomorrow, that it would be better than this own dark day.

So, as if they were clinging to that hope, David and Claire clung to each other without letting go, all the way back to the Wolf's Sun.