The Life

by casquis

The Great War was a long one, millions made it, more didn't. Frank is an ODST, a human just like us, that has managed to survive the most grueling battles for years. With so much experience under his belt he has some amazing stories to tell. This are the life stories of an immature, not-all-in-there, and talented Marine just living, fighting, and being plain badass during the war.

126. Daughters and Corpsmen First

Chapter CXXVI: Daughters and Corpsmen First

September 18, 2544 (UNSC Calendar)/

Hill 4, Catamaran Peninsula, Asilon, Omicron Ebur System

---

"Your men. Your plan. Your responsibility."- Colonel James Pendleton

---

"Ah, Gunnery Sergeant Castillo, you've only been here for three days and your exploits are famous already."

"Two and a half days actually, asshole," Schitzo yelled at his face. I had to keep the smile from my face. Schitzo did manage humor occasionally.

"Thank you, sir," I replied politely. "I aim to please."

Hill 4 was technically under the control of the Army, and that portion of the Army was under control of one Colonel James Pendleton. He was the stereotype of a colonel. Mid-fifties, buzz cut adorning his graying hair, he even had a highly visible scar running from the corner of his left to his ear. All he was missing was a nice little mustache and he would've been on a movie.

Unfortunately, he was the kind of Army colonel that had a deep dislike for the Marine Corps. I was in the Corps, so that dislike automatically extended to me. I had to be reasonable here though, and so did he. He would tolerate my presence and my deeds because he knew that he needed me and my squad and I would tolerate his disrespect because I pretty much had to. Call us stupid, but the military had been working for centuries on this same system, it wasn't about to change for anybody.

"What do you know about this sector of the front?" he asked me, his back to me while he examined a datapad.

"Only what they told me, artillery on this hill keeps large scale assaults at bay while the men down in the trenches hold back the smaller attacks."

"Were you told that the men under my command have held this hill, the deepest advance point into enemy territory, for over three weeks?"

"I was under the impression that there are several units further ahead, sir. I was told that units ranging from squad to company sized got cut off from the main force."

He grunted and slapped his datapad on his desk. "Those men are brave men, even if they are incredibly stupid. Most of the units that got trapped either refused to fall back or tried seizing an opportunity that wasn't there."

"This colony has been a peaceful one," I asked. "Hasn't it been, sir?"

"Yes, I never thought that would be a bad thing," he sighed and looked at me. "Sit down Gunny."

I did as I was told and he went on.

"This is a large colony," he explained. "And with the war going on, many saw the benefits that the military is giving volunteers as an opportunity. A decent salary and it was certain that you'd get in, recruiters aren't turning their backs on anybody nowadays. Still, most of the enlisted men remained here, both Army and Marines. Thousands of young men thinking of themselves as hero, knowing nothing of combat except for what they read in novels or saw in those films."

"But don't you have any officers with combat experience?"

"A few here and there, but most of our officers were as green as our enlisted men when this started, they thought that war was about glory. And they were pissed at the aliens, most of us survivors lost someone in the initial attacks."

"So they charged," I said with realization. I had never had something similar happen to me. "And now they're either dead or stuck."

"Unfortunately," Pendleton affirmed. "That's why I requested your presence here."

"Whatever you need me to do," I said with a nod, shuffling on my chair.

"Excellent," he grinned evilly. "There is one particular unit that has been stuck behind enemy lines for about over a month. Mostly the enemy line is unstable enough to allow us to give them supplies and evac their wounded, but this unit in particular is completely surrounded."

"Ok," I nodded.

"What I want you to do, you and your squad, is to break through the enemy line."

I chuckled. "That is easier said than done, sir."

"Of course I know that," he growled. "But I do believe that your squad can pull it off, as hard as that is for me to admit…I pulled your records Gunny, they are most impressive."

"Thank you, sir."

"You've done some tough shit during your career, tougher than anybody on this planet. At least before the war bogged down." He looked at me and maintained eye contact. "We have three warthogs ready to be used by you and your team. All of our armory is open to you."

My mouth gaped open. "You're giving us free reign?"

Colonel Pendleton crossed his arms angrily and sighed. "Listen Castillo, I've known you for a grand total of five minutes and I already dislike you, but there is absolutely nothing that can get in the way of my men's safety. I'm giving you control of my men for this op, within reason of course."

"Of course," I agreed, smiling. "Sir, I'm a grunt, not a strategist."

"This is just one mission Sergeant, you don't need to stage a push."

I smiled. "I'll meet up with my team, discuss the issue," I told him. "I assume you want us ready as soon as possible?"

"Correct."

"Very well then, sir, we'll be ready by nighttime, if that's not the case then we'll attack at dawn. I'll let you know what we plan."

He grunted. "Be quick about it."

"Of course Colonel, thank you for the vote of confidence."

"Not like I have much of a choice, Yule won't lend me his Marines and those Rangers are already engaged elsewhere. Dismissed."

I saluted, my smile still plastered on my face.

Let me put this to you in layman's terms. I had control of over one thousand men and women. Oh, the possibilities were endless, but I wasn't exactly the very model of a major general. I was an asshole who had managed to climb up to the rank of Gunnery Sergeant. So, I began to do the natural thing, I began to panic. When I panicked I did one of two things, I either drank myself to oblivion until I came up with a decision that seemed like a good idea or I talked to Pavel.

I currently found myself very short on any kind of liquor, but I sure wished that I had some, Pavel would do the grown up thing and make up some boring solution. That's exactly what I needed now, even if it wasn't exactly my thing.

"Pavel!" I yelled at him. He was chatting with some wounded soldiers, asking them about things on the front, the two kids were smitten with him, this colony probably didn't have any Helljumpers on it. "There have been some developments."

Pavel turned around, and with him, the two heads of the wounded soldiers snapped in my direction. "What kind of developments? Good developments? Bad ones?"

I looked at the two kids nervously, one had been shot in the neck, probably with a spiker by the looks of it, the bandages went around his neck and underneath his armpit, bunching up on the place of the wound. The other soldier had it worse, half of his head was covered in bandages, with only a small space allowing one of his eyes to see.

"What happened to you kid?" I asked him.

"Overcharged plasma pistol shot," he shrugged, "blew up right against my face."

"Marsden was always an ugly mother," his friend replied, "slap some grafts on him and he'll look better than ever."

Marsden grimaced and shuffled sideways on his bed, he stretched his arm and pressed down on his friend's wound. His friend, of course, cried out like a little girl and did his best to get away. "I was kidding, I was kidding!"

"This is something better discussed in private," I told Pavel. I could see the look of disappointment on their faces. "Uh, get well soon."

"What he said," Pavel laughed. "Good luck."

"You too, Staff."

The base on the Hill 4 was abuzz with activity. The several hundred men on it were running from one place to another delivering messages, moving crates of ammunition, getting messages around, errands, anything that needed to be done. A flight of four Falcon gunships flew overhead, headed towards the front. The barracks had long since been hit by Covenant artillery, most soldiers were sleeping on the floor with tarps over their heads or in their foxholes. And this was supposed to be the base, the guys in the front must've been living under terrible conditions.

Our quarters, if you could call them that, was a large camouflage net propped up by four metal poles. Underneath the netting there were some patches of tarp to keep the rain from falling on our head. At least they were nice enough to give us sleeping bags.

There was a large ammunition box in the middle, it had been used to hold shells for artillery cannons, but now it was empty, on top of it were several of our weapons, lying on their sides with their magazines next to them. Already inside our so-called tent was Grass, she was disassembling her MA5 with uncanny speed. She shot us a quick look before going back to her work.

"What is it Frank?" Pavel asked, worried.

"Nothing bad, I promise." I took two deep breaths and glanced at Grass before going on. "Colonel Pendleton wants us to break through the enemy lines to get to one of his lost units."

"Go on…" Pavel urged, sensing that I wasn't telling him everything.

"He had delegated complete control of all the forces under his command…" I paused for effect. "To me."

"Shit, this is bad."

I growled.

"I'm kidding, but so are you, right?"

I shook my head.

"Holy shit Sarge!"

"Careful there, potty mouth," Angel said, moving a piece of tarp and entering the tent. "What's going on? What'd I miss?"

"Pendleton just gave command of his forces to Frank for a rescue mission."

Angel laughed incredibly loudly and bent over, grabbing his stomach and trying to say something. He was laughing so much that he ran out of breath and started wheezing, trying to get some oxygen in his system. This went on for about one minute, with the rest of us staring at him. Eventually, Grass rolled her eyes and gave me a questioning glance. I nodded in reply and she slapped Angel hard on the back of the head and shoved him sideways.

"Hey!"

"What's so fucking funny?" I asked angrily. I couldn't possibly be that bad of a leader.

"Sarge, you're a great Helljumper and incredible when it comes to small-unit tactics, but honestly, I wouldn't trust you with my kids."

"Well, Pendleton doesn't share your distrust, he just handed me control of his forces."

"Merde, you were serious."

"I was," I replied. "So stop laughing or you're going to be the distraction."

"Fine, what's the mission?"

"We have to make contact with a lost unit, a couple of companies, that are stuck eight clicks behind enemy lines."

Angel winced. "Ouch, sounds tough."

"It is doable," I shrugged. "We just need a suitable distraction."

"There are plenty of suitable distractions that I can think off," Angel suggested, tapping two detonators repeatedly. Just before he put them down there was a huge explosion somewhere on the hill. "That wasn't me, I swear."

"What was it?" Grass asked.

"They were destroying spare Covenant ordinance," Pavel told us. "Not sure why, but it was mostly some of those weird boxes where they store their weapons, they supposedly secured enough for ONI."

"None of our business," I asserted. "Now, distraction?"

"Explosions always work," Angel insisted.

"Yes, but they will be expecting some sort of assault after an explosion, that's what these guys have been doing ever since they arrived," Pavel dismissed him.

"Did you know," Grass started. Our collective groan didn't stop her. "That trench warfare has been used in multiple wars? It has been declared obsolete several dozen times ever since World War One, but it always finds a way to come back."

"Thank you, Grass, Pavel?"

"This trench talk is giving me an idea…" he murmured to himself. "They have those trench digging machines, right?"

"Yup."

"Well, do you know how wide they dig the trenches?"

"Standard width for the trench diggers is two meters at the bottom and two point five at the top, but they can be modified to dig up to five meters wide, takes longer of course." Grass helpfully stated. "Did you know that they were invented during the Rainforest Wars as a way of-"

"Digging trenches," Angel interrupted. "Yeah, we know."

"Well, actually, they were supposed to be used to dig tunnels into enemy trenches."

"Can they be used for that?" I asked.

"There's a reason they are called trench diggers, not tunnel diggers."

"Thanks, keep your attitude to yourself."

"Sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be so tough on her," Pavel told me. "I doubt that even Nezarian is that uptight." The comment had Grass blushing and shooting daggers out of her eyes. I don't know if they actually hooked up during our boring patrolling days, but it was a possibility. They were definitely interested in one another, though.

"Moving on," I pressed. "Trench diggers…"

"Right," Pavel said. "We can use them to dig ourselves a little highway, pile up some dirt into a ramp and fly right over the enemy trenches."

"Or into them," Angel said. "I like the idea, but it'd be a bitch to work out."

"Not necessarily."

I turned around to see Caboose standing in one corner. I hadn't heard him walk in, the man was sneaky as hell, no wonder he was an ONI agent. Perhaps he should've been black ops instead of the considerably more standard stuff that we did. When I say standard I mean it when you compare it to super spy missions, because what I did was anything but standard. See, you got me all angry at myself and made me imply that I was just another grunt. I'm a damn good grunt.

"What do you suggest?" Grass asked. Her voice could've cooled liquid nitrogen.

"Simple, if we have control of all this men-"

"If Sarge has control," Angel corrected.

"Details. Why settle for digging one trench? We could stage a whole push forward if we wanted to. Use all the trench diggers to make lines, perpendicular to the frontline trenches. How far are our trenches from theirs?"

"Distances ranging from seventy five meters to a hundred," Grass informed him.

"We can use the machines to dig until we're twenty meters away from the Covenant trenches. We have the diggers turn right, link together all the lines."

"And we have ourselves a new frontline."

"The diggers will be attacked," Grass stated. "No doubt about that."

"They'll have to be escorted, flamethrowers and shredder ammunition," I suggested.

"Wait, you're not seriously considering this," Pavel exclaimed. "There's a reason they haven't tried it already."

"But they will," I said, smiling. "Because I'll give the order."

"Ok, let's say they go through with the idea." Grass rubbed her temples and went on. "We dig until we're right up their noses, how do we keep them from just charging?"

"We have the brunt of the forces stay back here," Caboose said. "Lay out heavy firing, we can even toss in guided missiles and artillery to have them keep their heads down."

"The nearest artillery battery is ten miles away," Grass told him. "We have the Inconvenience to provide targets, but it's still far away, there's always room for error."

"Not by more than twenty meters," Caboose muttered to himself.

"We can dig halfway through before stopping the barrage," I suggested. "Then have regular artillery fire from the trenches, light up the sky, tracers, incendiaries, have the autocannons go on, the works."

"Explosives all around? I'm beginning to think this is feasible," Angel admitted, ignoring the cool stare that Grass shot him. She still didn't completely trust Caboose, none of us did, but this idea was a good one and he couldn't possibly have any ulterior motives.

"They'll see the tons of dirt coming out of the ground, it won't be long before they realize what's going on."

"You're right, but only when they can see it," Caboose told her. "With mist as heavy as this, you can barely see more than fifty meters."

"We're going to have to pop smokes," Grass said.

"Hadn't thought of that," I admitted.

Pavel groaned. "This is dumb, the plan could work, but they won't listen to us! None of us is even an officer!"

"We're all noncoms," I smiled.

"There's a difference Frank," Pavel said, exasperated. "I'll go through with it, but the Colonel won't accept it. Why would he risk his men to gain just a few meters of dirt?"

"Because, and I'm quoting here, he won't let anything get in between him and the safety of his men."

Pavel nodded slightly. "Fine, but we should work out the details with the rest of the squad before going to Pendleton. And somebody get a sheet of paper, a big one."

---

Colonel James Pendleton sighed when he saw me standing at attention inside his office. "At ease Castillo. What did you and your team of barbarians come up with?"

I ignored the insult and smiled. "A very barbaric plan indeed, Colonel."

"Spit it out then."

"You have…fifteen serviceable trench diggers?"

"Fourteen badgers," he corrected. "One was hit early today by a Wraith."

"Makes no difference," I smiled. "Here's the plan. We dig thirteen lines straight at the Covenant. One of those is going to be extra wide. In order to move that one as fast as the others we're going to need two diggers. For the first half we'll shell the enemy trenches with targeting support from my ship, high explosives and shrapnel. As soon as we're near enough for a stray shell to hit us we stop firing and instead light up our own line. Every man and woman takes out their gun and empties their magazine at the enemy, or at least in their direction. Turret emplacements, autocannons, everything that we have should be firing. Make a lot of noise, use tracers and incendiaries, the works. By that time the trench diggers, your badgers, should be within twenty meters of the enemy line. They stop moving forward and instead turn to the right to connect the thirteen lines. All of them except for the widest trench, that one will keep going forward until it breaks through the enemy trench and so do we."

"You're asking me to sacrifice one of my very valuable badgers and to risk most of my men to get a gain of seventy five yards?"

"To get to your lost unit, yessir."

"And you think this will work?"

"I am certain it will. With small teams covering the trench diggers we should have a foolproof plan. Use flamethrowers to suppress the enemy infantry, shredder rounds to scare them away. I would recommend five man units for each digger. One flamethrower, one machine gun, three assault rifles."

"Five is too few," he grunted. "Seven ought to do it."

"If you insist," I nodded. "In that case one man should have at least a couple boxes of machine gun ammunition to help secure the line."

"And then what?"

"Well, my team and I will-"

"No, I couldn't care less about what you and your men will do. I care about my men, who are going to be within hand grenade range."

"The issue came up," I admitted. "Once my squad is on the enemy trenches with our Warthogs-"

"My Warthogs," he corrected.

"Of course, my bad, Colonel. Once we're there, we can run through the enemy trench, cause some mayhem, do what we do best. I wouldn't consider it unfeasible for your men to actually take the enemy trench after we're done."

"You know Castillo, for the last two weeks there have been three separate attempts to take the enemy line, two of them were over as soon as they started and the last one was pushed back by the enemy. Your plan may look good on paper, but the Covenant aren't dumb. They'll realize what's going on and they'll start acting accordingly."

"Sir, brutes are renowned for their savagery, their ferocity, and their animalistic cunning, when all things go wrong, they go berserk."

"I've seen it happen."

"That's why we proposed the flamethrowers," I insisted. In reality, the idea that the flamethrowers would counter the brute's berserk mode only came after the whole plan was wrapped up, Grass started with one of her 'did you know' moments and said something along the lines of all animals being instinctively afraid of fire. And what are brutes if not glorified animals? "Once they are lit up I guarantee that even the fiercest brute will panic, and when they do, so will the grunts and jackals under their command."

"It's unorthodox," he muttered. "But it sounds…foolproof."

"Thank you sir," I smiled. "With some luck you might even manage to take the Covenant line and gain a couple kilometers of land."

"Hardly," he grunted. "We'll make to take over the enemy frontlines if you suggest we do," Pendleton said, "but that's as far as we go."

I shrugged. "They're your men."

"Wrong." The colonel stood up from his chair and looked up to me. "For the duration of this op, they're your men, any one of them gets hurt, your fault, an one of them messes up, still your fault, any one of them dies…your fault."

"It will work," I reassured him, and myself.

"Your men," he reminded me. "Your plan. Your responsibility."

"I won't let you down," I said, trying to sound confident. "I won't let them down."

---

"Go, go, go!" I yelled. I could hear the shells whistling as they flew overhead. My helmet was booming with some of Bumblebee's old songs. It was once again one of those inspiring epic kind. This one in particular was called Arise, by some group calling itself E.S. Posthumus. It's a hard song to describe, but since the group had some Latin in their name then you can assume that it was a good song. And good it was. The shells just added to the music, think 1812 Overture, by Tchaikovsky. I learned with that piece that everything, up to and including artillery pieces, can be used for music.

The digger roared violently and started moving forward. The drill pulled mud and dirt into the main body and from there it was spat out to the sides, leaving little mounds that served as placeholders until we could put some sandbags there. My warthog moved slowly, very, very slowly. I was jumpy and edgy, but I kept myself calm and focused on driving. Not that there was much to do, but it did serve to distract me from the matter at hand. Behind me I had Pavel, he was manning the machine gun on the hog, keeping an impassive face no doubt.

Behind me was Grass' warthog. She was driving and had Bee on the side. The guy looked unusual without a Spanker on his shoulder, but the Spartan Laser replacing it more than made up for it. Besides, he had a Spanker underneath the seat just in case. He kept his head low to avoid being hit by stray shrapnel or plasma. Manning the gun on that warthog we had Angel. He was actually sitting down with his legs hanging out of the rear. He didn't want to get hit by stray shrapnel either. The last of our hogs was driven by Caboose and had Snark on the turret. It didn't seem possible that someone so thin and small could move such a big gun, but when we mentioned that he just said that he had enough experience with big guns, implying that he had a big penis.

You know us guys, if you believed what we said then everyone would be around twelve inches.

But I'm getting a little bit carried away here.

Our 'Hogs were making slow progress. The other trenches were moving along at the same speed as ours, I couldn't see them from where I was standing, the trench was higher than my Warthog, but I had a display on my helmet that allowed me to track their progress. I kept my eyes focused on that and on the rear of the trench digger. About halfway through the song an artillery shell landed next to us, a good enough distance away, but it didn't land in front of us.

"Stop the artillery," I ordered into my comm. "Start lighting it up."

It took a few seconds for the shelling to stop, but as soon as it did the men and women under Pendleton, under me, started doing what they were ordered to do. To run through their ammunition as fast as humanely possible. Their training might've not been the best nor the most thorough, but they had been drilled in conserving ammunition and firing in short bursts, I could feel the hesitation as they fired. Not on the autocannons or the mortars, those were usually trained to be able to fire as fast as humanly possible.

Still, the tracers flew all around us, I saw some streaking directly overhead, making whistling noises as they sliced through the mist.

"Almost there Frank!" Pavel yelled in my ear. At least it felt like it was in my ear.

"Keep your eyes up! I don't want jumpers coming down on us." The only response I got was a long burst fired from the turret. "That's ma boy!"

"They're trying to stop us," Snark said from all the way to the rear of the convoy. "Can see half a dozen jump pack brutes." A long sustained burst later we got this gem from our resident sniper. "Just took out half a dozen jump pack brutes."

"And here I thought you were lying about the size of your gun," Bee tisked.

"He might've been," Angel admitted. "But not about the size of his ammo, that's for sure."

"Did you know-"

"Shut up Grass!"

I had literally never seen six of us agree on something so quickly. Even Caboose joined in on the fun.

"We're almost there," I said.

"Explains the desperate brutes and grunts," Angel said as he fired from his gun. "They're just throwing themselves at us."

"Keep them at bay," I ordered. "Pavel and I go left, Grass, take the right. Caboose and Snark…the battlefield's your playground."

"Like the sound of that," Snark said approvingly. "You should have it inscribed or something."

"Nah, he's got fancy Latin quotes already."

"Shut up Pavel," I grunted. "Here we go!"

Now, you probably won't believe it, but as soon as the trench digger busted through the enemy trench the song ended. Instead of some epic and inspiring piece, we got what had passed for art back in the twenty-first. The piece started with some light whistling, a pretty jarring change from the inspiring orchestral. I barely had time to process the music in my head before the machine started digging through the other side of the trench. I turned to the right, sighing with relief when I saw that the Covenant trench was wide enough for my Warthog to drive through. In front of me were several startled grunts, jackals, and brutes. They wasted precious seconds trying to blink at us in the hopes that we would disappear and they could laugh about their senseless panic.

Pavel, on the other hand, showed me that he deserved a raise. He fired wildly, spraying from side to side. There was no way he could've missed. The bullets ripped through everything, hitting grunts and tearing their limbs from their sockets, blowing jackals apart, and tearing gory chunks form the larger brutes.

Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby, let me know,

Girl I'm gonna show you how to do it and we start real slow

You just put your lips together and you come real close

Can you blow my whistle baby, whistle baby…here we go.

"I'm not even sorry," Bumblebee laughed loudly.

"You misogynistic piece of shit!" Grass exclaimed in outrage.

I shook my head, already forgetting about all my troubles and worries. I liked how the song fit the situation, I was essentially telling the Covenant to suck my dick, pardon my French. So far, they weren't doing a pretty good job at it, for starters, they were screaming, so their lips weren't together, oh, and they were also running away as fast as possible, so they weren't coming real close or starting slow. Three strikes in as many seconds. Pavel sure made them pay for it.

I floored the accelerator, now this became a race between me and Pavel, he tried to gun down the shocked, tired, and unprepared covvies before I ran them over. He had the advantage for starting earlier than me, but a Warthog has one helluva hood. I laughed very much like I imagine a maniac would as I splattered puny grunts and jackals under the massive recon vehicle. I even slammed to the sides to squish wide-eyed brutes against the mud walls.

"I can't keep count!" Pavel exclaimed in glee. "Fuckin' A!"

The warthog shook violently as the tires went over a brute that had tripped. "As wide words as I ever heard come from you!"

I'm betting you like people! And I'm betting you love freak mode!

And I'm betting you like girls, to give love and girls and stroke your little ego

I bet you're guilty your honor, that's just how we live in my genre

I don't even know what the fuck that long-dead rapper was talking about, but for some reason it made me smile much like I imagine a maniac would smile. The Warthog was doing fifty, perhaps a little bit less, I couldn't really gain speed with all the organic speed bumps and the crashes against the walls. After we had gone three hundred meters, leaving a trail of dead and dying covvies behind us, we encountered our first obstacle. A pair of hunters, that had been called from the rear to help out in the front, turned and spotted us. Now, they didn't have eyes. Or faces. But I'm pretty sure that I saw them actually get shocked. I plowed through the first one, pushing it against the wall while Pavel turned its face into orange mush. In fact, so much orange matter fell on my windshield that I had to use the wipers. It all seemed to add to the fun.

"Eat it motherfucker!"

Boy, was Pavel having a blast.

"Not so funny now, you fuck!"

Fine, I was having a blast too.

The other hunter crouched behind its shield as I started backing up from the remains of its brethren, it tried bashing our car with its shield, but the engine was just a little bit faster. Pavel took advantage of the opening and emptied a good twenty rounds into its chest and stomach, prompting the huge ogre to roar at us in anger. My bones shook from the power of the scream, but I just floored it again and laughed as the hunter got stuck on the hood. I drove for another hundred meters with half a hunter blocking my view. Occasionally a jackal would roll over the hood and Pavel would have to duck. I honestly hadn't had this much fun since the first time I had drunken sex.

Wow, my life has been sad.

"Enjoy it bro," Scarecrow said from the passenger's seat. He was clad in full Helljumper armor, a smile as big as I had ever seen on his face. He put on his helmet just as I slammed onto something, a brute by the feeling of it. The impact was enough to dislodge the hunter from the hood. "You deserve it."

"Damn right I do!" I exclaimed, ecstatic at all the damage that we were causing.

"We've got a banshee on our tail!" Pavel screamed.

"Deal with it," I told him. "Reaper, I want you out of the trenches, we've got a mission to accomplish."

"But I'm having so. Much. Fun!" Grass yelled maniacally.

"Hate to agree with Mrs. Nezarian here, but this is fucking awesome!"

"Five more minutes Sarge!" Snark pleaded. "And I'm not even in the trenches."

"Sorry," I said, jerking to my right as plasma hit the walls of the trench to my left, covering me with gravel and heated dirt. "We've done one half, we have to finish the other."

"Fine," Grass sighed.

"Banshee down!" Pavel yelled. "And just in time too, it almost charged its fuel rod cannon."

"Good one," I said, not really listening. "Colonel, you copy?"

"I'm here Castillo."

"Tell your men that they can attack sectors five through twelve, and tell them to stop firing the big guns, we don't want to get hit by friendly fire."

"Done, and done. Good luck."

"Thanks, sir," I replied. "Reaper out."

I saw a mudslide to my left, not the first one on our trajectory, but the first one I had really looked at. Pavel was still firing away like crazy, bursting jackals apart and producing waterworks with multi-colored blood. If that's not something beautiful, then I don't know what is.

I twisted the wheel to the left and the jeep just about tipped to the side from the sudden change in speed, inclination, and direction. The wheels got enough traction on the mud though, and we emerged from the enemy trench. From up here I could see small trenches that led from the rear to the front. I ignored them and tried looking around for the other two 'Hogs, the goddamned mist blocked everything from view, so no good on that.

"Two more banshees!"

"Knock them out," I snapped.

The two side mirrors had been completely obliterated when I had been on our little trench run, I only had the rearview mirror to see what was going on, even despite that, Pavel was blocking half of it and moving constantly, so I only caught a brief glimpse of the two banshees chasing after us. Instead I decided to have my mini-map replaced by an image of whatever Pavel was seeing. I banked to my left just in time to avoid being atomized by green plasma. Then I banked to the right just in time to avoid being hit by a burst from a plasma cannon.

I floored the accelerator and started turning left, then I stopped. The banshees were in full-speed mode or something, because they flew straight ahead. Pavel killed one just as it flew over us, hitting its belly with armor piercing rounds, killing the driver and damaging the craft beyond salvaging. The other one did something that I thought was aerodynamically impossible, especially going as fast as it was. It seemed to stop, turn upside down and then pull up so that it almost scraped the ground. In fact, the two wingtips hit the mud, leaving small ditches behind. It started firing, the blue plasma lifted mud and dirt thirty meters away from our car, Pavel started firing, but only thirty rounds in he ran out of ammunition. The banshee was damaged and putting out smoke, but the pilot was alive and still gunning for us. As the plasma got closer and closer a read beam sliced clean through the craft, having it crash down into the ground and slide a couple of meters through the mud. It stopped about twenty meters away from my car and exploded again.

"You can pay me back later Sarge," Bee taunted. "A bottle of Jack ought to be enough."

"American bourbon?" Grass asked.

"You're no true Scotsman!" Snark accused loudly.

"Fine, a bottle of scotch would do then," Bumblebee corrected himself with a gruff voice.

"Thanks Snark, you just cost me an additional bunch of credits," I growled. "You're paying for half the bottle."

"Fine, fine," Snark chuckled. Nobody was going to give alcohol to anybody, I owed everyone bottles of prime liquor and everybody owed me the same amount I did them or more. It was more like a running joke in the squad.

"It should be seven and a half clicks to our destination," Pavel said, checking his HUD. "Let's get moving before they react."

While we had left the bulk of the enemy forces behind us, there was still a sizeable number in between us and our target. Many of the covvies were behind having some rest or helping in other matters, most of the brutes were on the front, but a few of them were commanding the relief units on the rear. During our treck through the crater strewn, muddy land we met a grand total of three dozen brutes. Half of them we bypassed completely, the other weren't a match for the full automatic fire of our turrets. Angel and Pavel had burned through one box of ammunition already, Snark wasn't quite there yet, but he would be there soon.

"Shit, reloading," Snark called.

And there it was.

Caboose stopped and allowed Grass and me to drive further. The small platoon of grunts and jackals in front of us dropped to the ground or dove behind a crater or fallen tree. This area had suffered some heavy bombardment from plasma and human artillery, the field was a bunch of craters and muddy messes. Fortunately, our jeeps had managed the difficult terrain with relative ease, not bogging up on the muck one time. The aliens fired with their small weapons at us, the plasma was easily absorbed by the Warthog's plating and the needlers bounced off harmlessly. Pavel and Angel peppered the enemy infantrymen with short, accurate bursts. The jackals wobbled behind their shields and their arms gave way to the force quickly, the grunts ran away as soon as the two jackal leaders were killed. That made them easy targets for Pavel and Angel. I saw them try to gain speed on their little stubby legs only to get hit in the back, blue blood came out of their fronts in long trails, following the trajectory of the bullets.

If I could carry one of those guns with me I would totally do it. It trumps just about anything if you have a good man working on it.

"There are some trenches over there," Snark warned us. "They look narrow enough to jump over them, but I'm not sure."

"We have to try, I don't want to risk a detour." I stood up on my seat, letting the car slow down to a gentle stop. I could see the little mounds of dirt, almost to even be natural. The line stretched as far as I could see to my left, I couldn't really see very far, but for all intents and purposes, that line was eternal. "Grass, you go first."

"I was hoping you'd ask," she replied as she revved her engine. Whenever she was driving a vehicle, she took absolute control.

Angel started firing at the alien heads that popped up to see just exactly what was bothering them when they were supposed to be taking a break from the frontline. The jackals didn't really react, giving plenty of time for Angel to blow their little heads up. They probably thought that they were safe there, five kilometers behind their line. If a human charge broke through, there would surely be enough time to fall back in an organized retreat or fortify their position.

"A little heads up would've been nice says the jackal," Bee quipped.

I laughed at the joke and lurched my 'Hog forward with a step on the pedal. The suspensions absorbed most of the shock, but the huge wheels weren't enough to get rid of all the bouncing around. I shook violently as I gained speed. Mud and water splashed to the sides and dirtied my windshield, covering up the alien blood. I could barely see through the windshield as it was, Grass' 'Hog was spraying dirt at mine and I had to slide to the left. It was at that exact moment that a red plasma bolt broke through the windshield and slammed into my headrest, less than three inches away from my head.

"Bad move motherfucker," I growled, trying in vain to get more speed. The windshield was melting and falling inwards on the dashboard.

Grass whooped and hollered as she took to the air, using the dirt walls as an impromptu ramp and completely bypassing the surprised Covenant soldiers.

"I'ma pull a Panama," I warned Pavel.

"Isn't that where you-"

"Ignore that," I corrected myself. "A Costa Rica."

"Oh, good luck."

I smiled and reached for a grenade. The car started jerking from side to side and I had to stiffen my arm on the wheel to keep it going in a straight line. With my left hand I pressed down on the button, priming the grenade. The 'Hog collided with the walls, reduced its speed dramatically, and jumped over the Covenant trench. Time slowed down, at least for me, during those brief moments. I leaned out to my left and saw the snarling face of an unarmored brute looking at me in anger. I extended my arm and threw the grenade straight down as hard as I could. I barely saw where it fell, but I was certain that it fell inside the trench.

The wheel almost breaking my sternum was what snapped me back. The Warthog had landed on its front, for a moment it seemed like it would tip over, but instead it fell back on its wheels. Caboose and Snark flew by me a second after that.

"Nice one Sarge!" Snark mocked. A second later the grenade detonated behind me. "Nice one Sarge!"

I smiled to myself and drove behind them, falling into a V formation with Grass in the middle. We were unbothered for the rest of the trip. Well, most of it anyways. When we were getting close to our target I checked the map. "The two missing companies dug up in a farmhouse," I informed them. "They should be able to see us coming before we can see them."

"With this mist? Hardly."

"I'm assuming they'll have thermal, Bee," I told him dryly, "and I'm calling ahead."

"That's so very polite of you, Sarge." Angel noted from his turret, even bothering to turn to loock at me and give me a thumbs up.

"Sarge 2.0," I replied with a chuckle.

"Well, I can tell that Hanna is getting rid of your less desirable…traits," Grass said.

"You know, it only works when we make fun of you," Angle sighed in annoyance. "Yevgeny would be disappointed."

Grass was usually deadly in verbal showdowns, but as soon as we mentioned the good lieutenant she'd automatically shut down, blush, and start yelling incoherently. This time she just pressed the E-brake, slamming Angel against the stock of the turret. The Italian behind the gun yelled in anger.

"What the fuck! We're on a battlefield!"

"He's got a point," Pavel conceded. "Don't do that again."

"Sorry," she growled.

And I was supposed to be the stupid, headstrong one in the group. But Pavel was right, it was completely fine with me if Grass whipped the floor with Angel's face when we were off duty or even on the ship or on base, but as long as we were in combat she'd have to take any shit thrown at her with dignity and learn to throw some back on her own. Maybe I'd have to talk with her about it…damn.

"We're three hundred meters off," Caboose said, distracting me from my inner monologues.

I looked up to see if I could spot anything. The only thing that jumped up at me was the presence of several heavily fortified enemy trenches. They weren't as fortified as the ones that we had rolled through at the beginning of the assault, but they were close. "Bee, turn that shit off," I ordered. The music died inside my helmet and the sounds of war flooded my ears. "That's more like it, come on, we have to break the siege."

"Easier said than done," Pavel grunted from the turret. "Let's just settle for taking out that Revenant."

"Which-oh, I see it. Bee dish out the pain, let them know we're here."

Grass stopped her Warthog to allow Bee to get a good angel through the heavy mist. I could barely see the vehicle in question, but Bumblebee obviously had no trouble spotting it through his scope. The red laser sliced clean through the rear and tore the enemy craft apart with a brilliant explosion. As soon as the Revenant blew up we moved forward. I couldn't find a suitable place to jump over the trenches, so I ran parallel to them while Pavel fired at the exposed aliens. The smaller ones were easy kills, but at the speed that we were going Pavel could only hit so many brutes.

"There! That could work as a ramp!"

"I see it, hold on." I braked and slid sideways, leaving a nice trail in the mud. I sped away from the enemy trenches and when I was a fair distance from them I hit the handbrake and did a nice one-eighty turn to face our pile of mud ramp. It did seem sturdy enough for me to try the jump. "Grass, Caboose, I want you to keep circling the enemy lines, do some damage, scare them. Do that for as long as you can, then try to get inside or fall back to safety, either one is fine."

"Music to my ears, Sarge," Angel said. "C'mon Grass, we've got this."

I sped towards the ramp like crazy. This time I made sure that I was going fast enough. The 'Hog cleared the trench with ease and landed neatly on its four wheels. I jerked from the impact and tried to regain control, succeeding in hitting whatever was left of a white picket fence and then swerved to avoid hitting a wooden post that was just standing there for no apparent reason. I could see the farmhouse now. It had suffered heavily, but it was still standing. I turned towards the barn, to park my vehicle inside when the whole world spun around.

The Warthog was lifted off its wheels from the right side and flipped over. I felt my harness pull against my shoulders when we slammed upside down against the ground. I clicked it open and slid down to the mud headfirst. I slowly twisted and turned and dragged myself out of the vehicle. A couple of plasma shots hit the metal bar to my right and had me cursing angrily. I dropped down to the ground as more rounds started raining around me and crawled to the back of the 'Hog. Pavel was a couple of meters away from me, lying on his belly, not moving. I panicked a little but then realized that his vitals were still going on, not stable by any means, but he was still breathing and his heart was beating.

"Fuck this," I said resignedly as I jumped up, firing wildly with my BR55. The sudden burst was enough to startle the aliens firing at me a little bit and gave me some respite from the relentless firing. I dashed towards Pavel and grabbed him by the back of the vest. There was a small handle designed just for this kind of situations. He groaned and moaned a little bit as I moved him, but otherwise stayed still. I pulled with one hand and fired wildly in short bursts with the other. I don't know how, but even with all the plasma and spikes raining around I managed to pull him behind safety.

"Goddamn," Schitzo muttered quietly. "You're getting stupider and stupider buddy."

"Sir! Um, Helljumper!"

I turned around and saw two Army privates running towards me, their backs hunched and their rifles up.

"What?"

"Uh, the field is mined," one of them tentatively explained.

"You don't fuckin' say," I snapped. "You knew we were coming, a little heads up would've been nice."

"Yes, the captain was aware of your arrival, but he didn't know that you were going to be making such a…direct entrance."

"It would've been a perfect one too," the other man said in a deep voice.

I sighed. "Whatever, I assume it's off now."

"Yes, Sarge."

"Good, help me turn this thing around," I ordered them. I moved to the underside of the Warthog to examine the damage done. The wheel was already re-inflating itself, but there was some serious wreckage on the undercarriage. The axels seemed intact, but not everything else was in such fine conditions. The space in between the two right wheels had taken the heaviest hit, a large portion of it had been torn off by the explosion. The front right wheel had only nicked the mine, but it was enough to activate the device. It would work, even if just for a little while.

"Push!" I ordered the two soldiers. Well, one of them, the other was providing cover for his friend and me. I groaned with effort as I tried to get the Warthog back on its wheels, luckily for me, I was in peak physical condition and then some, the private on the other side was no slacker either, lifting the weight of the car with his body. Still, it wasn't enough. "Fuck it, you, help us."

I groaned again as I tried pushing the car upright. The rounds raining on us didn't make it any easier, but the army men were now firing on the section of trench that was closest to us, suppressing the covvies. I took two steps back, ignoring the danger of leaving the meager cover that I had, and jumped at the Warthog shoulder-first.

You see, normally, when you kick down a door you do just that. You kick. This time I was doing something similar, but instead of a wooden door I had a titanium military jeep. The Warthog was relatively light for a vehicle its size, but it was still more than I could lift by myself. Well, that's not the point, the point is that when you try tackling a door you will often succeed only in destroying your shoulder and perhaps splintering the door a little bit. It's not about weight or strength, it's about precision, that's why you kick handle-height where you can rip the lock off. I found myself crying in pain as my shoulder collided with the Warthog's roof, the force of my tackle was just enough and the car tipped to its side before falling on its wheels once again.

"Let's go," one private said, jumping behind the wheel as his friend jumped on the turret, cocking the lever backwards.

I ran towards Pavel, pulsing pain all over my upper arm and shoulder, and grabbed him again. He was a heavy one, not as simple as carrying Grass or Snark would've been. I succeeded in getting him over my shoulder and tossing him inside the passenger's seat. I jumped up, holding onto the car's roll-cage and with both feet on the ledge on its side. I felt awfully exposed in that position.

"We're clear," one private said. "Activate the mines again."

"Grass, Caboose, don't jump into the perimeter, the whole thing's mined, keep working at the covvies, weakening them. I'll call you when I need you."

"Roger that Sarge," Grass replied. "If things get too hot we'll fall back."

"Understood, good luck."

The soldier driving eased the car inside the barn, parking next to an Armadillo with damaged threads and a half-molten turret. There were a few serviceable Mongooses (Mongeese?) next to it as well as crates of ammo.

I jumped off and let myself fall to the ground, rolling on the floor to absorb some of the impact. My rifle was still clutched tightly in both of my hands. I looked up and winced at the pain in my arm, a quick analysis from my armor told me that it didn't appear to be broken, but recommended medical attention. I opened my eyes and saw that already two soldiers with Red Cross bands on their arms were leaning in over me. I depolarized my helmet and shook my head. One of them was a pretty girl, couldn't have been more than twenty. I wonder if it's a requirement for joining the medical branches of the UNSCDF, to be a pretty girl. It seems like a perfectly sensible requirement for me.

"I'm fine," I said, standing up and pushing away the two medics. "Check on my friend."

They looked at one another nervously and shrugged before going towards Pavel and helping pull him off the passenger seat. I grabbed one of the privates that had come to my rescue and shoved him around so that he was facing me. "You, kid, take me to your CO."

There must've been something in my tone or on my face, because he immediately lost the angry expression and switched to a more appropriate one of worry. I probably looked like I was about to rip his head off. "Uh, right this way Sergeant," he informed me. "Captain Caskey is in the main house, I'll lead you to him." He ran out the front door of the barn and hid behind a Jotun tractor.

I shook my head and walked towards him, reloading my weapon and trying to get all of the mud from the chamber. I arrived where he was taking cover and looked down on him. "Listen kid, they can't see us and I don't have time for games. Just hurry this shit up."

"O-kay?" He stood up tentatively, wincing at every little explosion before taking off at a slow jog towards the house. The house itself was a nice piece of architecture. It had two floors and windows on the sloped roof, probably from an extra attic room. It had one main door with a wide porch in front of it. The porch had once had sun chairs and rocking chairs on it, but now it was only splinters of wood. The white paint had been chipped away with thousands of bullet holes and black plasma scorching. The polycrete had been molded so that the outer walls looked like they were made of wood, it had a very traditional look to it. Tall windows on the floor with shutters painted dark blue. Most of the windows didn't have any glass anymore, but they were boarded up with pieces of metal, not necessarily armored slabs, but it was better than nothing. The right end of the house's roof had been blown off by an explosion, allowing me to see the polycrete topped off with hardwood. The former owners of this little place had been very rich from the looks of it.

In addition to the house itself there was the barn, a large metal building painted red and white, as big a target as I ever saw. There had been a tall metal grain silo standing near it, but half of it was now on the ground, the other half had been scrapped to cover up the house's windows. There were a few other smaller buildings, mostly sheds by the look of it, I laughed to myself when I saw that the garage had been built to look like it was a stable. They had really been into the rustic look.

"Open up!" the private yelled. He most certainly wasn't happy to be out in the open.

"Password?"

"Are you really starting this?" he complained.

"Open up the fucking door or I'll kick it down and rip your throat out," I threatened.

"Hey, you guessed it!"

"Asshole," the private said.

I walked inside the house and took off my helmet. I did look to my right and shot the man in charge of the door a look that was evil enough to send him back and into the wall. I guess that having lived with Marina, Layla, and now with Hanna was really paying off on the death-glare section.

"Where's your CO?" I asked the private.

"Over here, just follow me."

I did and arrived inside the dining room. All the chairs had been pushed against the wall. The table was now covered with several paper maps and a couple of hologram projection devices, very old-fashioned ones at that. There was cables and wires all over the floor, disappearing into corners and other rooms. Below the table there were several boxes of ammunition. The Captain, Caskey, was talking into a radio set, yelling angrily about air drops or something along those lines.

I cleared my throat.

"Hold on," he said to the phone and looked at me. "Your ass is safe on this one, I have more important things to do."

"Gunnery Sergeant," he said as he hung up. "I'm so very sorry for the active mines."

"Yeah, I am too, sir," I growled in reply.

"You have to understand, we weren't aware that you would be bursting through the enemy lines. We have been trying to do that for weeks and haven't been able to succeed."

"Evidently not," I agreed. I sighed and shook my head, placing my helmet on the table. "Look, I'm sorry sir, you dropped the ball but we didn't exactly communicate our plans." It hurt to admit that I had a little bit of fault in the incident, but I didn't want to alienate this guy, he was probably tired from having been behind enemy lines for so long. "My friend is wounded but we succeeded in breaking through. We were ordered to get you out of here."

"That is easier said than done."

"Agreed, but there is a way."

"What was your plan exactly Sergeant?"

"Well, we were-"

Pavel busted through the doors with half his armor off, the two medics behind him were carrying it and trying to stop him, yelling frantically at him to sit down. He had probably walked through the open ground in between the barn and the house, forcing the medics to chase after him. He looked like he was about to fall face first on the floor.

"Sergeant, if you just-"

"Shut up," Pavel snapped. "I'm fine."

"What does he have?" I asked.

"Broken ribs and sprained wrist," the girl medic told me after the man stammered. "And a concussion."

"See?" Pavel told me, exasperated.

"Sit down," I ordered him.

"But Frank!"

"Sit," I said, letting a little bit of anger into my voice. "Now."

"Fine," he snapped.

"You," I told the girl. "Fix his wrist and give him something for the head. You, put his armor on the corner and get out of here."

The girl medic swallowed nervously and gave me a curt nod after looking at her CO for approval. She moved towards Pavel, who just jerked his arm away angrily before giving it to her with more than a little bit of reluctance. The medic started taking off his armor and working on the injury, it was already swelling up.

"I don't appreciate you ordering my men around," Caskey warned with a low growl.

"It won't happen again," I sighed. "Now, as I was saying-"

This time I was interrupted by a million different transmissions coming from the radio in the room. I looked at it and then looked back to the Captain, he just shrugged at me and shook his head. I glanced to Pavel, catching the eyes of the medic on the way, she just looked nervously away and started injecting healing fluid into my friend's wrist.

"Hello?" I said into the radio. "Right." I adjusted the frequency and reached the Colonel. "Colonel Pendleton? Come in, this is Reaper Actual."

"Castillo! I'm glad to find you!" There was a long pause. "Don't tell anyone I said that about a jarhead."

"Of course not," I replied with a smirk. "Sir, we've reached the two companies. Well, two of us did, the rest of my squad is softening up the trenches."

"Gunnery Sergeant, my forces jumped inside the enemy trenches as you recommended, the Covenant were in disarray, I had never seen them so scared, they sounded a general retreat! What's best, we found a buried jamming unit, that's what had been blocking off all our communications."

"That's why we can communicate appropriately," I said with realization, "Thank god for the lack of static."

"Agreed. I've already requested for a couple of tank squadrons, I've sent all my Armadillos to chase after the retreating Covenant. We might just gain some serious land here."

I smiled. And they said my plan was crazy. "Excellent, maybe we won't need to go to you after all."

"That's exactly why I was looking for you. I want you to coordinate with Captain Caskey to stop the retreating aliens, that way they'll be crushed from both sides."

"I've never heard of a situation where a group behind enemy lines became one end of a pincer maneuver."

"Caskey? That you?"

"Yes, Colonel," Caskey's eyes flickered towards the medic. I noticed the movement and looked behind me. The girl blushed and looked away before reaching into her pack for some meds.

"Captain, you heard what I want. We're already sending troops in your direction, we want you to stop or stall any enemy infantry and light vehicles that come in your direction."

"Sir, I understand, but we are still completely surrounded by enemy trenches."

"I think we can handle that," I said. "If we do we should have a nice defensible position from which to kick some ass. Sirs."

"Listen to him Captain," Pendleton said. "Marine or not, he knows his shit."

"Yes sir."

"Good, I know you won't let me down Caskey. Pendleton out."

Captain Caskey stared at the radio for several seconds before turning to face me. He obviously disliked the idea of being on equal ground with me. I suddenly wondered if it was only Pendleton who had a dislike for Marines or if it was all the officers in this branch of the Army. "So, what's your plan?"

"Drive the 'Hogs through the trenches," I replied with a shrug.

"Are you insane? You'll be fried."

"It worked well enough last time," Pavel jumped to my defense. "I have video if you want it, sir."

Caskey rolled his eyes. "No, I believe you, do whatever you want."

I almost punched him. He expected us to do his half of the job for him just like that. There's a difference between not wanting to risk your men and being an asshole. I know he had been here for a month, but that didn't give him the right to believe himself to be exempt of action.

I saluted the Army captain and turned, following him with my eyes until he disappeared behind the door. I then turned to Pavel, who seemed to have changed his mind and was enjoying the attention that the pretty girl was giving him. "You," I said suddenly, pointing at the medic.

"Me?" she asked shyly.

"Yes, you, what's your name?"

"Uhh, I'm ah,"

"Ah?" I slapped my forehead. "Just your name, not your rank."

"Carrie?" she said doubtfully.

"Carrie what?"

"Carrie Pendleton."

Pavel's eyes went wide open.

"Oh," I said in realization. "Carrie Pendleton. Is that a common surname on this planet?"

"I wouldn't know," Carrie told me. "I'm just a medic."

"Just a medic," I nodded. "Of course. Military family?"

"Um, yes."

"Huh, dad or mom?"

"Dad," she said.

"And he wouldn't happen to be called Colonel James Pendleton, would he?"

Carrie looked nervous and sighed. "Yes, that's my dad." It was obvious that she was embarrassed. This little rescue mission had obviously been done not to get the two companies out, but to get her out. I imagined that that wouldn't sit too well with her fellow grunts.

"Cheer up," Pavel said. "If this goes well you'll be known as the reason why we were able to take back the Catamaran Peninsula."

"Yeah, you can even write a book about it," I said sarcastically.

"Oh, be sure to drop my name," Pavel suggested eagerly.

Carrie Pendleton looked like she would've been happy to climb inside a foxhole and let someone burry her in it.

---

"Sarge! You should've seen it!" Grass was exclaiming excitedly. "It was even better than the first time!"

I smiled. "Ok, ok, tell me what happened."

"First we climbed down the trench," Snark started saying. "Man, I don't know how these two pulled it off, but they did, it seemed like our car was going to flip."

Grass cleared her throat. "I was talking, thanks. We started driving through the trench, it was narrower than the one back there, but still enough for us to drive through. There were so many grunts there that I thought we would stall in them."

"Their bodies popped from the weight," Bee said, joining in on the fun. "Once we had gone through most of the perimeter we encountered a pair of hunters, I-"

"Took one down with the Spartan Laser," Grass said, "but the other one died in such a satisfactory way…"

"How?" I asked, I was starting to get curious.

"I, well, it's better if we show you." Grass connected her helmet to one of the hologram projectors on the dining room and a bluish display popped up. It wasn't exactly high resolution, but I could make out the driving wheel, the dashboard, and the trench walls. There was a blue flash on one of the corners. "That's the laser," Grass explained, albeit unnecessarily. "Watch, watch."

Boy did she sound eager.

The other hunter, it was not very visible on the display, but I could tell where it was and what it was doing with no trouble. The hunter steeled itself behind its shield. On the holographic display I was able to make out the turret and top of another Warthog turning around the edge of a wall. I didn't need anybody telling me which 'Hog it was. The hunter must've heard it coming, because it turned sideways just a fraction of an inch before the two jeeps collided with it. There was an explosion of blue, which I know must've been orange in real life, and the hunter was splattered in between the hoods of two Warthogs.

"Wow," I said approvingly. "Just wow."

"You should have it sent to the fleet's badass of the week page," Pavel suggested. "Share it between yourselves."

"Hey, maybe we could send the footage of the first trench run as well," I said. "Just for kicks."

"Weren't you already badass of the week once?" Pavel asked with a smile.

"I was, wasn't I" I asked. "Yeah, you're right. I was badass of the week."

Grass rolled her eyes and Angel just laughed loudly. It had been a while ago, but it had been a source of pride for me ever since, I didn't mention it too often, I didn't want it to lose impact. Still, my whole squad was laughing and smiling at the hologram of the hunter being squashed, we would have to watch it in a screen one day, instead of in 3D. It probably looked better, even if it wasn't as immersive.

"Gunnery Sergeant Castillo?"

I turned to see another private at the door. "Yes?" I asked him, still smiling.

"The vanguard of the enemy infantry has been spotted," he told me. "The ambush is about to start."

"Technically speaking, wouldn't they be the rearguard?" Snark asked philosophically. "The vanguard would've been crushed in the initial assault down in the frontline. Former frontline."

"Semantics!" Angel exclaimed loudly and suddenly.

"Ok, ok, quit it," I said, not really putting my heart in it. "You already got bulked up on ammo?"

"That's a go," Bumblebee confirmed.

"Good, go down to the trenches," I ordered. "Snark, you can climb to the roof of the barn or the attic, snipe away."

"Done deal Sarge," he smiled at me, cocking his SRS. The gun was taller than he was.

"Well?" I asked loudly. "What the hell are you waiting for?!" The smiles were wiped from everyone's faces (except Pavel's) as they did their best to leave the room and sprinted towards the trenches. Well, at least I imagined that they would sprint. "Caboose," I said, stopping him before he left. "You know the girl? The Colonel's daughter?"

He nodded. "Why?"

"I want you to look after her," I told him. "I don't want her getting herself killed."

"Why?" he repeated the question.

"Well, we started this whole attack for her, I would hate to see our main objective a failure."

Caboose shrugged. "I'll do my best Sarge, but no promises."

"That's all I'm asking from you," I said approvingly.

Caboose exited and left me alone on the dining room. I sighed to myself and looked at my riddle on the table. It had been black when it had first been given to me, now it was mostly gray, all the paint had been scorched, scratched, or burned away in the past decade. The weapon was my lifeline and had kept me alive for years. I smiled affectionately at it, doing my best to ignore the man in front of me, a man that no matter what I would do refused to go away.

"I did tell you that getting rid of me wouldn't be easy," Schitzo taunted. "Now, don't you have something to do Francisco?"

The trenches that had been occupied by hostile alien forces just an hour ago were now full of reinvigorated soldiers. They had been on the short end of the stick for over a month, they were eager to show that they could give it as good as they got and then some. They were all young kids, probably enlisted thinking that they would never see combat, now they just wanted to fuck things up for the Covenant in any way that they could. Some of them would stay in the Army, some of them would ask for their retirement benefits and be put in the reserves, a few others would probably off themselves, and some would just feel lost after having lost their homes and families.

No, not their homes, not yet, we were winning this thing, we would win this, there was nothing that could prevent that from happening.

The point is, out of all these kids that started as wide-eyed youngsters eager to get their hands on a gun, all of them would wish for revenge on the Covenant. The colony was devastated, it would work itself out, but many wouldn't see any reason to stay, instead requesting a transfer to a unit that saw actual combat. They'd think it was the right choice at the time, but wouldn't realize how wrong they were to leave home until it was too late.

Much like me.

I cocked my rifle and the ammunition count flickered to life. It was starting to give up on me on this gun. When I was first given the gun, the blue numbers immediately popped up. This time the thirty six didn't appear until after a couple of seconds, and when it did it came flickering, like a faulty car engine. I sighed, it was a bad omen, but then again, everything was a bad omen nowadays. This particular operation was most certainly going to be a win for us, I would be careful, but I didn't expect any trouble. Certainly not with my squad.

"Sarge, over there, you've got decent view of the battlefield and some coverage."

"Where's the marksman that should occupy this?" I asked.

"We're short on marksmen," the man replied. "In fact, we're short on most everything, we are almost through the ammo that we were airdropped a week ago."

I nodded understandingly and moved to the marksman perch. It was a steep ramp that had just been dug very recently by one of the Army men. I could lean forward on it for stability and still keep my body behind cover. In addition to that there was a small roof over me and dirt had been piled up in front of me. If you built a miniature sand bunker on the beach, this is what it would look like. It would do well enough.

"Angel, what's with the 'Hogs?" I asked.

"Commandeered Sarge," he replied. "They dug them in and are using the turrets only."

"Understood, Grass, I want you acting as medic, don't engage too much."

"Don't engage too much," she laughed. "Good one Sarge."

I chuckled at my own poor wording. "Pavel, what did they do to these trenches?"

"Nothing much really, piled up some dirt on this side from the other and dug some ramps in case we needed to fall back to the house. Small stuff."

"Good to know," Bee said. "Unlike last time."

"You weren't there man!" Pavel exclaimed violently. "You weren't there!"

"Ok, I think you're going to have to cut down on the movies," Bee said nervously. "Not even I would've said that."

"Yeah man," I agreed. "You've been away from your wife way too long."

"That's what I said," Pavel grumbled angrily.

"Well, I've got a decent collection of twenty-first century pornography in case you're interested."

"What'd you say?" Snark asked.

"Art films," Bee reiterated. "Or not."

"Ok, looking at this topic from a serious perspective," Angel started. "Could a porn film be called art?"

"I dunno," Bee replied, joining the discussion. "I mean, I've seen all that modern stuff that shows naked ladies doing it, supposed to be feminist or vaginal or some shit like that, it just makes me uncomfortable."

"The art? Or the words used to describe it?" Grass asked him.

"I guess both, I mean, who uses the word vaginal to describe art? It's a little bit weird. I mean, I respect what they do and I'm sure that they think they're creating masterpieces, but to me it's just crappy porn."

"Well, but back to the porno flicks," Snark said. "I don't think they could be called art, for something to be called art it'd have to have a-a-a-a topic, or a…I don't know, a theme?" He paused to get some breath. "Porn, as great as it is, doesn't have one."

"Some would consider the story of a misbehaving sitter and a pizzaman a theme," Grass said.

"Yeah!" Angel exclaimed. "Wait, I didn't know you got that lonely."

"Shut up, I'm taking your side here," Grass snapped, flustered.

"Enjoy it while it lasts buddy," Bumblebee recommended.

"Ok, fine. But you see, while it might not be considered art, you have to admit that it has several of the ingredients. It's original, it's creative, and you can look and listen to it."

"Yeah," Snark said, "but you don't see many pornos worrying about the quality of their acting, they just focus on the physical part."

"That's the point!" Grass said. "A movie with a sex scene could be considered art, maybe even made better because of the sex scene."

"But the sex scene by itself wouldn't be art," Bee told her. "You wouldn't screen it on a festival."

"But if porn is a subsection of film, and film is an art, shouldn't porn be considered an art as well?" Angel put out.

Snark grunted to himself. "I don't think so. I could draw something with crayons and it would be a drawing, doodles, not proper art."

"So you're saying porn is art, just not proper art?" Grass asked.

"No, I just don't think that porn has what it takes to be art. Sure, some productions focus on characterization and plot more than the regular short scene, but when it comes down to it, it's just a people getting paid to fuck on camera."

"Let's talk about that modern art then," Angel said. "There are two girls doing it, maybe on video, maybe live, it is considered art. Why?"

"Because they are part of a larger exposition," Bee said. "They add to something bigger. I think that they were the central piece of a large exhibit of…vaginal art."

"What were you doing there, by the way?" Pavel asked.

"N-n-no," Grass interrupted, "but if you put everything out and watch the two girls in the box going at each other it'd still be art then?"

"Erotic art, maybe?" Snark muttered. "I don't know, it would certainly not carry the same weight or meaning that the whole exhibit together would."

"I agree," Angel said, "but it'd technically be considered art. And if I told you that I saw a video of two girls having sex then you'd tell me…what?"

"That you were watching porn," Grass finished.

"You usually are," Pavel taunted.

"You're in no position to make that comment, Staff," Bee told him cheekily. "But no, I still don't think that porn, by itself, could be considered art."

"Did you know," Grass started, that was quickly beginning to turn into a catchphrase for her. Who am I kidding? It already was. "That back in the day they said that videogames could never be art? Supposedly you could never manage to express the emotion that one would be able to through film or painting, even though games were interactive and had the same narrative force that a movie had."

"Ok, fine," Bee interrupted. "But porn isn't interactive."

"At least not all of it," Grass corrected.

"You go girl," Pavel laughed.

"And even if some of it is interactive," Bumblebee went on, "it doesn't have the same narrative, it's just repetitive motions designed to appeal to people's primal instincts."

"Yeah, did you know that the positions they use aren't even natural? You try imitating a scene from a flick and you'll find it very tiring and nearly impossible to maintain," Snark furthered, a little bit of satisfaction in his voice.

Angel exclaimed triumphantly. "But that means that you need discipline and practice to be a porn actor, you need a certain kind of talent."

"It has to be extensive," Pavel suggested. "Big would be a more appropriate word."

"You also need physical talent and discipline for a game of football, but you don't see people calling football art."

"Wait," I said, talking for the first time. "Are we talking American Football or football Football here?"

"American," Grass said.

"Oh, in that case go on then."

As much as I liked watching and playing American Football, I wouldn't call it art, I would be more inclined to call the other kind of football, soccer, an art. The precision with which you made a pass, the way that you could curve the ball, how you stretched to stop the ball from going in your goal. Oh man, it was beautiful. But most of you would probably disagree with me, so I'll stop so I can keep my readers.

"As much as some people would disagree," Bee resumed. "Sports aren't art. Sure, they're difficult, tiring, and require a lot of dedication, but very few people call them art, and when they do it's usually a figure of speech."

"Whether sports should be art or not isn't the point here," Grass said. "I'm saying that some porn could be considered art."

"But how? There's no message, no theme, no nothing, it's just porn, nothing more, nothing less," Snark droned, almost tired from repeating himself.

"But you're not listening," Angel exclaimed. "I'm going to agree with you that not all porn is art, but some of it could be seen that way. Some productions have all the requirements for being art, they're just ignored because they're porn."

"If it looks, sounds, and has everything that needs to be art," Grass started. "Then it is art."

"Unless it's porn," Bee said, exasperated. "I'm telling you, while you could use a sex scene in a movie, the movie would turn it into art. But if you introduce characterization into a porn movie, the overall theme of the movie would turn it into porn."

"Well said," Snark agreed. "Porn by itself can never be art."

"But if it is surrounded by, let's call it proper, art, then it is?" Grass asked, frustrated that she was failing to get through to Snark and Bumblebee.

"Yes, but only because it stops being porn in the traditional sense of the word," Bee told her.

"And what about your so called vaginal art?"

"What about it?"

"The central piece could be considered art by itself."

"But only if you knew what it was supposed to be beforehand," Snark interrupted. "I mean, why would anyone assume that two chicks eat-"

"Regardless, it was meant to be used as art and has parallels to porn," Grass stopped him. "Why the hell should it be considered art when porn isn't?"

"It'd probably be considered erotic art," Snark said. "At the most."

"And what is porn if not erotic art?" Angel asked.

"Very tacky erotic art?" Pavel suggested. On the other end of the line Caboose scoffed out a laugh.

"Ok, let me put it this way," Angel said. "If your two chicks doing it were men, what would it be called?"

"Disgusting?" Pavel suggested. Boy, was he having fun.

"Phallic art," Grass said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Snark exclaimed

"Well, did you know that the very first human pieces of art usually represented sexual acts?" Grass asked, sounding as if that definitely concluded her point.

"But it's the sculptures themselves that are that art, or the paintings," Bee defended.

"Yeah," Snark agreed.

"Not what they represent," he went on.

"Wait, are you saying that a sculpture is art, but the person sculpted isn't?"

"Not necessarily," Bee started.

"Then it is."

"No, you can't see it like that."

"Either it is, or it isn't," Angel groaned.

"Life can't be seen in shades of black or white," Snark snapped.

"But whether something is art or not can?" Grass yelled angrily.

I chuckled, putting a halt to the conversation. "Ok boys and girl, you can continue this conversation later on, right now I need you focused."

"Fine," Snark sighed. "But don't think for a moment that I think you're right."

"Likewise," Angel said.

"But wait," a strange voice came in. "Is porn an art or not?"

I looked up at my HUD and started roaring with laughter when I realized that the conversation had been transmitted on the channel that the two companies and us were using, over a hundred men and women had been listening to Snark, Grass, Angel, and Bumblebee discuss, very heatedly I might add, whether porn was art or not. I slid down behind cover and took off my helmet to wipe tears away from my face. The soldier next to me was also struggling to breath from all the laughter. Another one was shaking his head and smiling to himself while trying to keep his eyes fixed on the battlefield in front of him. "Nice one Pavel," I said complementarily.

"I know, but it wasn't me," he said in between breaths. "I thought it was you."

"That was me, actually," Caboose said. "Got it all recorded too."

I was glad to see that Pavel kept on laughing even despite knowing that the man he trusted the least in the universe had been the mastermind behind the prank. "Ya know," I said. "Forget about what I said before, you should be badass of the week."

"Much obliged," he chuckled in reply.

"Eyes. Front," Caskey growled. "Fuckin-" he started before cutting himself off from the rest of us.

"Ok, you heard the man in charge," I yelled. "Stop laughing like retards and aim down range, we have a regiment's worth of scared aliens coming at us, if they haven't shat their pants by the time they're within range then it's our job to make them do it? Am I clear."

My squad wasn't the only one who replied, over half of the Army soldiers yessired me. All of the enlisted men and many of the noncoms responded enthusiastically to my little speech. I hadn't really planned for it, but I found that the sensation of several hundred people hanging on my words was a very powerful one.

"I see them," Snark warned loudly. "Still at extreme range, one click and a half. I spot a dozen shapes and growing fast. I've got brutes mostly, I see a ghost, tw-three of them. Shadow troop transport, another of those, a dozen or so drone fliers. Shee-it," he said. "That's a ton of targets. Do you want me to start picking them off?"

"Can you hit them at this range?" Caskey asked him.

"Easy."

"Go ahead."

"Sir, if I may," I interrupted. "While taking out officers from this distance does have its advantages, it'd probably be better if we held until they were within five hundred meters."

"And why is that?"

"They'd know that we are here and be wary of human presence," I finished.

"Damn," he cursed. "You're right, after two months of being targets we now have the situation reversed. And we have to wait."

"I understand sir," I said, "but it's the smart choice."

"Fine," he admitted. "As soon as they are within five hundred meters of our position you can fire," he ordered.

"Very well sir," Snark nodded. "Do you want me to report before firing?"

"Negative, the boom should be enough."

"Wise words, Captain," Snark chuckled.

I opened a private line with Snark. "How far away from us are you?"

"Seventy four point six meters from you Sarge."

"Do me a favor and don't tell me when you have your crosshairs on my head."

"Done deal," he said.

"Hey, I want you to tag their positions," I ordered. "The soldiers here don't have the interface that our helmet's do, but if we can see every covvie that you can with thermal, it would be a big advantage for us."

"I already thought of that," Snark told me. "I'll activate it at seven hundred meters, then you can panic."

"Can you make out the headdresses at this range?"

"Not right now, but I could probably tell a captain or a chieftain from a regular brute at five hundred meters."

"Good, I don't want any whacko with a hammer sprinting towards me, you hear me?"

"Sarge, it's almost like you don't know me," he complained. "I'm hurt."

"Ok, shut up."

The next thing that came out of him was a SABOT round flying at supersonic speed towards the head of a high-ranking brute. A half a second later another round boomed.

"Damn, I hate how the chieftains' helmets can take one sniper round."

"Why didn't you hit him in the face?" I asked, checking my sights and aiming at a red figure through the mist.

"I tried, but I can't see their faces, I only see a white silhouette."

"Fine," I admitted. "Let's earn our paycheck Reaper."

"What's that smell?" Angel asked.

"That, my friend," Bee roared, "is the smell of victory!"

Targets were plentiful and so was ammunition, the Covenant had no idea that the friendly forces that were supposed to be here were now nonexistent, they would be in for a very unpleasant surprise. I would personally make sure of it.

"Bang, bang," I whispered to myself as I fired the first shots. I still couldn't see the brutes and grunts, but the red outline from Snark's scope and my own lesser-powered thermal mode helped out a lot. I hit a brute with four bursts, all of them aimed at the chest. They all hit, they were easy shots, even with the fog. The brute fell to the ground and didn't move. The grunts with it jumped to the side, startled. They made the mistake to look behind them and started running here faster. I smiled and switched targets. Another brute went down, some grunts made the same mistake, some didn't. Still, it was either a couple of humans or a few dozen tanks, so none of them turned around and ran. I kept focusing on the brutes, working at the leadership.

I had just fired two bursts into one when a sniper round tore through its head. "Dammit Snark!" I yelled. "You could've let me have that one!"

"Sorry, if it's dead, it's dead, right?"

"Yeah, right," I grumbled angrily. "Doesn't matter, keep shooting officers."

It was only after I had burned through three magazines that I was finally able to see the covvies. They could clearly see us now and obviously knew that we were there. At least thirty of them had died since the first shot, that was probably enough to alert them to our presence. They took to the ground and started firing at us, some others instead jumped inside the abandoned trenches that had been cleared recently.

"What happened to the supply trenches?" I asked.

"They were blocked and mined," Pavel said. "But that's our weak point in here."

"Hmm…nothing that can be done about it now. I guess we'll have to stop them from getting too close."

It became routine very quickly. Fire a few shots at a brute or a jackal sharpshooter, duck behind cover. Explosions or plasma rounds would send heated dirt flying over me and I'd stay under the wall for half a minute before climbing back inside my little shooting perch. If any alien had been aiming at it to wait for me to come up, thirty seconds should be enough for someone else to shoot it. The technique didn't fail me. Still, there were only a hundred and fifty or so of us, maybe a little bit more, but the Covenant was regiment strength. Sure, the Warthog turrets made wonders for crowd control and ate through grunts rather quickly. They didn't have limitless ammunition though, and we only had two spare boxes of ammo for each one.

"Snark, conserve ammo, only chieftains."

"There seem to be plenty of those too," he growled. "Most of them have hammers, so they're making runs for you, exposing themselves."

"The ones with ranged weapons take priority," I told him.

"Understood."

At this point the covvies were clearly visible, they were literally charging at us, the grunts knew that they would either get through us or die, if there was the slimmest chance of survival they were going to seize it. The jackals were smarter about it, trying to thin out our numbers or close in from behind their plasma shields. The brutes just wanted to kill as many humans as they possibly could. The drones, well, the drones were mindless bugs following orders, not very good orders, but I'm not complaining.

"Shit, chieftain!"

I looked to my left to see a hammer-wielding chieftain running at us, it swerved sideways to avoid being hit. When a machine gun burst hit its armor, it started shining and a golden web pattern covered it completely. I had only seen that a few times before, it was an energy shield on steroids, nearly immune to all weaponry, it could even take a Spartan Laser shot and keep going. With that thing on nothing short of a direct Archer missile hit would kill the brute. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough to allow the huge alien to reach the trench and jump inside.

I fixed my bayonet on my battle rifle and turned to my left to fire a couple of shots at it. I cursed when a soldier got in the way and let myself fall to the other wall to get a clear shot.

The chieftain swung its hammer sideways, at a soldier. The man ducked underneath the swing and dropped to the floor. The brute recoiled when it was hit with automatic fire from the back and roared. It hit the offending soldier with the butt of its hammer. The blow was hard enough that I heard crunching bone, the man was probably dead from the hit. I fired another long burst at the brute, hitting it in the arm and torso. The armor on its belly was strong enough to deflect the rounds, but I saw blood coming out from its arm. It just seemed to get angrier at the world in general. The chieftain stomped on the soldier on the floor, I knew from personal experience how painful this could be, and the soldier was knocked out cold, at least.

The brute ran at me, knocking one soldier out of the way with its wounded arm and hitting another with the hammer. That was three, maybe four kills in ten seconds, this bastard would pay.

"Come on mother fucker," I taunted, still firing full automatic on the bastard. My gun clicked empty just as the brute did an overhead swing. I dived to the side to avoid it, the gravity blast pushed me against the wall, but it didn't hurt me much. The brute then tried backhanding me. It was a clumsy hit and I easily ducked underneath it. I sliced from the bottom up with my bayonet. The slice cut from its armpit to about halfway through his shoulder. It was deep enough to make that arm relatively useless. The brute roared and kicked me away from it, leaving my weapon stuck on its shoulder, it didn't seem to mind, it just tried to kill me.

A soldier from behind me fired a long burst, buying me enough time to pull out my big knife and shuffle away. The brute tried to hit me with a one handed swing, but missed completely. I stood up and moved to the side to allow the soldier behind me to fire more. I winced as the rounds flew next to my head, but otherwise didn't move. When I heard the faint clicking noise I lunged at the brute. My arms slashed from top to bottom at the brute's hand. The slash was strong enough to chop one finger off.

"Enjoying your visit?" I asked it. "You fuck!"

I tackled the alien at its waist and was very surprised when I felt another man tackle the brutes chest. From behind the alien another soldier hit it. The three of us were enough to bring it to the ground. From there I moved towards its face and brought my knife down on the unprotected mouth as it snarled at me, trying to get back up. Of course one stab to the inside of the throat didn't kill it, neither did two. I switched targets and stabbed it all the way to the hilt on the throat, the brute still managed to throw off one of the soldiers while gurgling angrily. I grunted as I slid the knife sideways, cutting its throat open.

"Man," I said.

"They're hard to kill," one of the soldiers agreed.

"Tell me about it," the other one moaned in pain. "I think it broke a few ribs, with a knife in its face."

"Ok, can't slack off now," I said, getting up and pulling my rifle form the brute. There I wiped the bayonet on the gargantuan alien's fur. "Gotta hold the line."

"Right," one of the soldiers nodded, not making any move to get up.

I took advantage of their reluctance to move to yank my knife out of the brute's throat. The move had blood spraying all over the place for a few seconds, as soon as it stopped I cleaned that knife on the dead brute and on my undersuit before putting it in its sheath.

I made my way back to the firing spot and did what I was ordered to. After that initial attack, the aliens didn't seem as eager to attack us blindly. My gun ate through all my ammunition and I sat back down while I waited for someone to bring me some more ammo. The runner had just left when I heard cheering. I turned around and glanced through the opening, the covvies weren't firing at us anymore, instead they were running at us. I could see some tracer rounds coming from the mist.

"Snark, I take it that's the cavalry?"

"Armored cavalry, that is," he snarked. "But yes, you are right."

"We did a damn good job Frank," Pavel said approvingly. "I've never heard of a rescue mission turn into a seven click gain."

"Did you know-" Grass started. "You know, what, let's just enjoy the moment."

"Wise words Grass," Angel approved. "Wise words."

---

Thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

Thirty pages…sorry bros. Yeah, like you care.

Well, this is the first of the big ones. Second one technically, but since it is thirty Word pages long with font size 12 then I consider this a big one. Due to some personal issues Sniper Fodder wasn't able to complete proofreading every single chapter that I gave him, which means that there are three additional chapters in addition to my three buffer chapters that I usually keep. That means faster updates people, hope you enjoyed.

I wish I could think of more to say about this chapter and my experiences while I was writing it, you know, my usual boring crap, but I'll let you guys do it.

Stay Strong.

casquis