Speck stood speechless. The Spartan's body slumped, but she seemed to be beckoning him over, oddly.
"Helljumper... Promise me... you'll save every one of these people."
Speck was at a loss for words. Then, finally growing some bollocks, he spoke up.
"I-I'll try, ma'am. "
"Good... Us Spartans might not always see eye to eye with you 'jumpers, but.. I see you being a good man. What's your name, Lieutenant?"
"Colin. Colin Montgomery. Codename "Spectre"."
"Speck, then... Listen. If you see any Covies around here... Burn the bastards, you hear me?"
"Aye, ma'am. I'll do my best."
She slumped, any life she had once had gone. Her dogtags dropped into his hands, stained with her blood and grime from the collapsing buildings. He read the name, wondering if he had known her behind that visor.
Piper. Piper Monroe. He knew that name, knew her husband. Oh, fuck, was all Speck could muster as he turned them over in his hands. Sgt. Monroe would be pissed. He stood up, and began speedwalking, hoping he could grant the dying wishes of a veteran.
He wouldn't be left waiting for that, the world decided.
A young woman and her kid were taking shelter, behind a nearby barricade. Speck noticed a small abnormality.
3 sodding great Skirmishers (T'voans if you wanted to be specific and live by that bloody book) were walking towards the helpless pair, jaws oveflowing with saliva. They clearly intended to do some diabolical thing (with Skirmishers it was never clear what, honestly), and Speck had no intent of letting either happen to the stranded family.
Another mighty quake ripped opened the ground and slammed it like a giant vice. 2 of the Skirmishers had the luck of getting juiced, purple blood flying up and covering the area.
Speck took note of that.
And as the last of the feathered bastards turned and angrily screeched, he raised his MA5 and blew it's head clean off it's ugly shoulders. Making sure he'd hit it, he sprinted over to the family.
"Miss, are you hurt? Is your daughter alright?"
"You took your time, boy. But yes, we're fine. Where's our way out?"
"Ugh... the bloody Pelican's that way, miss. Try to keep away from the Skirmishers next time-"
He was cut off by the guttural roar of a Brute (A mercenary, most likely) that made an action hero sound weak. As it loomed over, he pulled the shotgun he'd been issued from his back and point blank landed a shell directly in the face of the heavy-set Covenant soldier.
The result was not pretty. A second of the rugged, bestial Covie species jumped a broken bollard and charged for him , crashing into the ODST and landing him flat on his back. The Brute spoke up, sounding pissed and delighted all at once.
"Heh. An honoured warrior. One who kills us Jiralhanae with ease... You bring great honour to me if I slay you!"
Speck grimaced. This was not quite as he had intended to go out.
"Our name for you bastards is different."
"And what is this name, before I make worm's meat of your hide?"
"The nice version is Brutes. The more horrible version is, as they say, Servus Ferox."
"What?"
"Wild slave."
The Brute hit him hard in the stomach, causing him to audibly wheeze and cough. As his foe chuckled, he raised the blades of a Spiker, high above his head.
"Hey, asshole!"
That voice was different. German accent, female. And accompanied by a hailstorm of bullets, which made mincemeat of the Brute that stood before him.
"Hey, you! On your feet!"
He felt an arm like that of the Brute's pull him up, and as he did he realised the Brute had knocked his helmet off. It lay mostly undamaged about a foot away.
The German (he realised she was the big one who pulled him up) spoke again.
"Damn. You're a handsome one, schatzchen!"
She took off her helmet as well, and herself was quite nice to look at. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, a lovely smile, and seemingly as old as him-
We're in a warzone, Speck, he thought to himself. Chat up the pretty Spartan with the machinegun later.
They both put their helmets back on, and Speck was relieved to see his helmet was completely undamaged, a bit of grime the only thing that had occured.
The German spoke again.
"I do hope I see you again, gut aussehend."
"Likewise, ma'am."
"British, too? You're quite the package... See you!"
With that she was off, to a Pelican landing nearby. Speck ran to his squad's evac, as it seemed the city was now crumbling in on itself and was thus making rescue efforts too difficult.
It took off without him. Bollocks. He was in deep shit now-
"Hey, schatzchen! Over here, you can hitch a ride with us!"
He bolted, his lightweight gear not impeding him in the slightest. He was on board, and now realised he was among a group of Spartan-IVs. The pretty one from before motioned him to sit down, and as he did he noted they were all staring intently at him.
"Find yourself a pet ODST, Monika?"
"Shut up, shithead. He's not that bad, he took on 2 Brutes alone."
"Heh. Perhaps you Helljumpers aren't as bad as those II's told us. My name's Jesse Montoya, Spartan and very proud Texan. What's yours, 'jumper?"
"Colin Montgomery. "Spectre". Most people call me Speck, though."
"Where you from? I know that's a British accent, but you could be from any colony-"
"Earth. Cambridge, England, sir."
Monika, as he now knew her, put an arm around his shoulders.
"Speck? Cute name, I think~"
"You'll have to watch out for her, bud" Jesse grinned.
"Why?"
"Monika does seem to like you Brits."
Oh boy, Speck thought. Long ride ahead, it seemed.