Chapter CXXXVII: Chocolate and an Abundance of Paintballs
February 28, 2545 (UNSC Calendar)/two weeks later
UNSC Flawless, interstellar space, FLEETCOM Sector Three
"One to the face and two to the chest?"
So the crew had been pissed that they had missed Valentine's Day. Yeah, it surprised me too. I had never in my entire life celebrated it and none of my steady relationships seemed to care. Of course, now that an entire ship managed to arrange a delayed celebration, with the day postponed exactly two weeks, Hanna seemed to be very eager to get some roses and chocolate. I had no freaking idea how I was going to get roses in space.
Some genius had managed to sneak several thousand roses on board and was now making money like crazy, but I wasn't about to join the sheep-like minds of all my new ship mates.
"Valentine's Day?" Pavel was saying.
"I know, right!" Robert exclaimed. "I don't remember ever celebrating it on board the Inconvenience. And we had roller-blading competitions there!"
A couple of the Helljumpers in the platoon looked up from their plates and at us, eyebrows raised and curiosity on their faces, but they all decided against asking any questions. Pavel, Grigori, Snark, and Rob had been here for long enough so that everybody to know that our ship was less than standard. Our former ship. I was too involved in the conversation to care. At the moment, all I was paying attention to was the 'am I right?' conversation they were having with each other. Pavel was saying something and Snark was completely in agreement with everything that Pavel was saying. I don't even know why they kept talking if they were just repeating the same thing over and over. Eventually we all got tired of it and started playing along, being overtly loud and mimicking their voices.
That sure stopped them.
And now we had nothing to talk about.
Damn.
"So, Sarge?" Rob asked. "You getting flowers for Hanna?"
"No," I replied.
"Wha-seriously?"
"Yup," I nodded.
"Sarge?" Snark asked tentatively.
I sighed, relenting. "I'll get her some chocolates and a bottle of brandy."
"Brady?" Grigori asked, talking for the first time in the conversation. He looked like he was about to say more but stopped.
"What?" I asked him. "What?"
Pavel picked up on it and answered for him. "There are probably drinks that are considered more romantic," he told me. "Like, I don't know…flavored cocktails?"
"Are you kidding me?" I asked. "Not only are those college drinks, they ruin the taste of the liquor."
"Some would say make it better," Snark argued.
"Nah," Rob stopped him. "I'd never drink a whiskey with water on it. That's a little bit too close to blasphemy for me."
"Blasphemy?" Pavel asked. "Didn't know you were religious."
"I'm not, but I just-"
"Back to the matter at hand," I interrupted quickly. I didn't want this to degenerate into a religious debate. "Romantic drinks? That's a load of bullshit. I'll just give her her favorite. What's the problem with that?"
"Um, her favorite drink is…brandy?" Pavel suggested, as if it was totally obvious. "I mean…brandy!"
"What's wrong with brandy!" someone exclaimed from another table. It was quite obvious that he had been eavesdropping.
"Eat your meatballs, Escamilla!" Pavel told him off. "None of your business."
"You're a terrible noncom, Klaus!" the man shouted back, but not pushing the issue further.
Pavel chuckled and turned back to me. "Brandy?"
"What the hell is wrong with brandy?" I asked.
"Nothing," Snark said. "If you're a seventy year-old, cardigan-wearing man sitting by the fire while stroking his Golden Retriever."
"After dinner," Pavel furthered.
I leaned back on my chair, the old metal creaking with my weight. "What would you propose then?"
"Champagne," Pavel offered.
"Cognac," Snark said at the same time.
They both turned towards each other. Oh boy.
"You do realize that cognac is a type of Brandy," Pavel informed him with the most sarcastic tone he could manage.
"Champagne? Did Sarge's girl win something and we all missed it?"
They began to shout reasons why their drink was a better option at one another. Their bickering got annoying about ten seconds in. I just shrugged at nobody in particular and proceeded to eat my own meager serving of meatballs. Fine, it wasn't exactly meager, but I still felt like it was too little. Grigori said nothing and dug into his meal. Rob seemed eager to join the argument, but decided against it.
There was a snort of amusement from the other side of the table. I raised my head to see Private Miranda Novak slowly shaking her head while reading something off her datapad. Her snort didn't went unnoticed and soon enough the whole table was looking at the newbie Helljumper. Her skin didn't show any blushing, but I could tell that Novak was flustered by the sudden attention that was being directed at her. Once again I marveled at the sheer abundance of pretty girls in my life. I hid a smile and looked at her questioningly.
"Something funny? Private?" Pavel was quite obviously annoyed.
Novak decided to make a stand, something which I found surprising; ever since she had arrived she seemed to be quiet and avoided drawing attention to herself. With a face like hers, it was a tougher job than one would imagine. "Um, I think it's pretty obvious." She then returned to her reading.
Before the table could erupt into taunts and angry comments, Grigori sighed loudly and theatrically. "It's obvious," he said, repeating her words. "Wine."
Novak raised her hand and Grigori high-fived her without a word. Both of them went back to being abnormally quiet.
There was a moment of stunned and embarrassed silence on the table before the neighboring tables erupted in laughter.
After our lunch we all milled about the ship. Most of us were used to moving around and being active, sitting in your bed while reading a books seemed like something to do right before going to sleep, not in the middle of the day when you could get in a fight or something like that. Manly stuff.
It was funny walking through the various hallways and corridors. While relationships were frowned upon, most people didn't actually care. When I say didn't care I mean it in a way related to sex. Back in the Inconvenience everybody had been realistic about their options and had often engaged in crazy sex with other crewmembers. I'm not talking full-blown, disturbing orgies, but people got around a bit. Stress relief.
I could tell that it wasn't very different here, but everybody was taking advantage of the situation. Guys would send flowers to speed up the process a bit and girls would use it as an excuse to speed up the process a bit.
It was strangely amusing, two people wanted to do it but social pressure didn't allow them to jump right into it. But I digress.
"Hey Sarge!" Snark called from in front of us. He was standing right in front of a bulletin board. "Look at this."
I walked up to him and stopped to examine the screen's announcements. One of them caught my attention.
"Paintball tournament?" I asked, smiling. "There a prize?"
"Honor and pride," Snark replied. "Says so right here. No entry free."
Pavel stretched his neck over my shoulder to get a look. "Five-man teams?"
"We got five men," I said. "You, me, Snark here, Rob, and Grigori."
Pavel placed his hand on my shoulder. "How about getting Private Novak on the team instead?" he suggested.
I looked over at Snark and Robert, both of whom were nodding in approval. "All right then, she needs to settle in some, this might help."
"Yeah, and I wouldn't mind getting closer to-"
"Out of bounds," Pavel and I said simultaneously.
Snark shrugged, he wasn't particularly surprised.
As I tapped our names and ranks on the list my former squad watched me. I made sure to spell all of their names wrong on purpose. Klaus with a C, Agnarsson with only one S, Avninder I didn't have to try to spell wrong, I just missed an N. My name, of course, was spelled perfectly fine.
"Come on Sarge," Rob complained.
I chuckled and change the names to their correct spellings.
"Team name?" I asked.
That promptly started another debate. The suggested names went from badass to adolescent. Stallions wasn't exactly an original one, neither was Thunderstrike. I heard the various different suggestions and came up with my own. I started tapping on the bulletin board and everyone shut up to see what I was writing down.
"Rangers?" Snark asked.
Pavel laughed. "You know, for all your asshole ways Frank, you still manage to get in some…"
"Admirable moments?" Rob suggested.
"Yeah, that."
I smiled until I realized that I had just been insulted in addition to complimented. I decided to take it as a compliment and patted Pavel's shoulders before heading ahead.
Wine was surprisingly difficult to get around here. Even with the UNSC-sanctioned liquor store on board the ship I had almost no way to get a drink. Even though having an actual booze shop on board seemed strangely unmilitary I found it unusual that people didn't bring crates upon crates of alcohol for their own consumption on board.
I ended up with mediocre wine for an incredibly high price. I had to swipe my identification card and they tagged me to see if I was behaving erratically. They would know the moment I was drunk. Geez.
Well, the wine had been expensive, but the chocolates had been a bargain. Truffles covered with cocoa. They were damn good, I'm not entirely sure why I tasted them before giving them to Hanna, but the box looked so goddamned tasty. Yeah, I know that sounded weird, but that's how it went down. Hanna was wearing a little bit of makeup and everything when I finally met up with her. It was very impressive what one could do because of peer pressure.
She looked nice in makeup.
"You look nice with makeup," I told her, kissing her.
"Oh this?" she asked. "I did this on a rush." She smiled at my look of amazement and incredulity. "Fine, thanks," she allowed. "I borrowed it from a friend."
"Looks stunning on you."
Her smile turned into a grin and now she leaned in to kiss me.
I handed her the chocolates and the bottle of wine. "Yeah, yeah, I know you wanted them."
She beamed. "Oh, you shouldn't have."
I made a sad face. "Why are you lying to me?"
Hanna rolled her eyes and hugged me by the waist. "Ok, I have to admit that I might've dropped some subtle hints…"
"Subtle?"
"…over the past days. But it was only because I'm new to the unit and wanted to fit with everybody here."
I nodded. "Gotta admit, it's pretty unusual that they do the whole Valentine's Day here," I said. "We barely even had holidays back on the Inconvenience."
I gulped at Hanna's expression when I said that. She had lost a hell of a lot more friends than I had. To this day I still don't know why our team had so much luck when everybody else had died without an opportunity to even attempt to survive. I guess I should be thankful.
"Hey, don't make that face," I said, stroking her cheek. I mentally reared back when I saw Katie's face instead of hers. Somehow I think I managed to keep my expression neutral. "Next thing you're going to stop answering my messages."
That only made it worse. When I was on Paris IV I had sent her several messages. None had gotten any replies. At first I thought that it was simply because the messages didn't get through, or she was busy. Eventually I decided that she didn't want to answer. I thought that she was cheating, or that she had decided to break it up. I thought of the worst things that I could think about and I had ended up being the dick that cheated.
I didn't regret it one bit, and that worried me.
"Frank, you know that I-"
"I'm sorry," I told her. "Didn't mean it like that."
Yeah, eventually it turned out that she hadn't answered because she had been in a serious depression after having all her closest friends die. For some reason she blamed herself for their deaths and then got convinced that if she stayed with me I would only end up hating her for not doing anything to help her friends.
The brain is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it can be a curse as well.
"Amen," Schitzo cheered.
Hanna nodded and looked away, sniffled a bit and then looked back to me. "I know, I know."
I tried to appear cheery and smiled. "So? What's next?"
"Well, we might as well have a drink in a supply closet. There's not as much leniency here for…" she made her voice husky. "Sex."
I laughed. "Seductive, aren't you?"
Hanna looked very satisfied with herself. Next thing I knew she would be running her hands along her sides and biting her lip. Man, I hoped she'd do that.
"We can't borrow a Pelican either."
"And our rooms are highly public," she added.
"Plus my roommate has a no-girls-allowed policy."
"Ooh, is he gay?"
"Hope not," I said.
"Getting a little bit homophobic are you?"
I smacked her butt. "Would you enjoy having your roommate coming on to you?"
She looked at the wall behind me and smiled dreamily. "Well, she does have the greatest ass."
"Now you're just teasing," I complained, poking her.
"So the storage closet?"
I nodded. "Hey, look, we're already in one of them!"
"Waddaya know?" she replied, making a surprised face.
The room was big enough for us to lie down on the floor and looked at the dull grey ceiling. Hanna had thought ahead and brought her datapad, it had a projector that displayed a stunning night sky. She turned the thing on and the ceiling suddenly turned into white upon black. It was actually quite impressive. Except for the grey walls and brooms.
We enjoyed a bunch of chocolate truffles. A couple of glasses of wine each and the kind of conversation that you could only have when half-drunk. After that we engaged in a session of lovemaking that was not as good as expected in the account of the cramped space and our own intoxication. All in all, it was a very fine evening. Or afternoon, stupid ship's version of day and night. After that we kissed and cuddled and all that, you probably know how it goes and I really don't want to delve into the details. You know, privacy and all that.
The paintball tournament was a big deal on the ship. Only us and the guys on the other carrier in the battlegroup, the UNSC Navarone, had paintball tournaments. Well, those two ships were the only ones with a room large enough to be used as an arena. Every single ship had a hangar bay big enough to use as an arena, but they were occupied by important gear and personnel that needed to be alert at all times. So only we got the paintball tournament. It wasn't endorsed by the admiral, but he let it happen, it helped relieve stress. So would the boxing championships.
Every team was issued five marine vests. They were training vests, designed to be flexible and light but could still stop the progress of a plasma round. They felt like cardboard when compared to the stuff I typically wore. In addition to that we also got helmets with the optics and electronics yanked out. Again, they were training helmets. Someone had rigged a glass visor that covered the entire face. It looked weird and awkward, but it would protect you from getting nailed in the face by a training round.
For weapons we got M7 submachine guns set to single round only. No sidearms or long-range weapons. It was good old-fashioned paintball with incredibly fancy and expensive toys. If we were hit the bullet would foam up and harden, neutralizing our limbs or 'killing' us. With several teams composed of well-trained marines and combat veterans, this was bound to be interesting.
Somehow somebody had managed to get every single participant a free day. That meant that pretty much everybody in the ship would be a spectator at some point or another. That meant that nobody would be doing their jobs. That meant that the onboard AI was going to be very pissed.
"Hey, the bigger crowd the crowd the…more respect?"
"Higher amount," Snark told Rob.
"You know, it just doesn't pack the same feeling."
The marksman shrugged and checked his SMG before aiming down the sights. Once satisfied with the alignment he strapped it to his back and sat down on one of the various benches on the hallways. We weren't going to be playing for another half an hour or so, but the first matches had already started.
"So, do we have a strategy?" Pavel asked.
"It's just a game," I told him. "Just go with the flow?"
"Um, sir?" Novak asked. She hadn't talked much, but had accepted when she was asked to join the team. "No strategy?"
"There's five of us," I sighed. "Two on the right, two on the left, and whoever draws the short straw gets the middle."
"Short straw?" she asked me.
"Manner of speech," Pavel explained. "It usually means that whoever Frank's pissed at gets the tough job."
"Just ask Lamberti," Rob told her.
"Who's Lamberti?" Novak asked.
Rob shook his head while smiling and Snark snorted.
"Miri, you're pretty slow sometimes," Robert told her jokingly.
She knew it was a joke, but apparently she wasn't friendly enough with any of us to feel comfortable. Novak looked away and said nothing. This time I actually saw her blush a little.
I smiled and checked my own ammunition. We each had four magazines in addition to the one on the guns. That made five, five times sixty makes…three hundred. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's three hundred. In a game of so-called paintball, we would have more than enough ammunition. Especially if our dead teammates could give us whatever ammo they hadn't burned through.
"So," Novak said. "Who's middle?"
"I'll be," I said. "Sounds like fun, besides, I need to get back into the action."
"And you think paintball is going to help?" Pavel asked.
"It's extremely high-stakes paintball," Rob helpfully added.
I laughed and slapped my weapon on my thigh before realizing that I didn't have the required magnetic plates. I avoided looking like an idiot only because everybody had glanced away from me and towards a swabbie that had just walked up to us. The poor guy looked a little nervous at having to approach five Helljumpers all by himself.
I still have it.
"Um, Rangers?"
"That'd be us," Snark told him, leaning back on his bench and looking pretty intimidating for someone his size and weight.
"You're up," he said. "You're going to be Red Team for this match."
We all shrugged. "Suits me fine," I said.
"Here," the navy guy said, offering us red stickers. "Those go on your chest." After we were done slapping them onto our vests he told us to follow him. We walked through one of the access corridors that led to the training room, it was dark and I could hear a commentator on the other side. I felt like a gladiator. I liked the feeling.
The door opened to reveal a completely flat area. On the other end of the room another team emerged. They didn't look intimidating, but then again, they were a hundred meters away.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" some hidden loudspeakers boomed. "We've got a wonderful match here, last tournament's third placers against the ODST newcomers!"
There was no roaring or cheering, but I could see the spectators in the long windows waving their arms frantically. I could only guess that they were as excited as I wanted them to be.
The commentator made crowd noises before going on. "Rangers are red and Pandas are blue. Don't let their names fool you, I'm pretty sure that this Helljumpers are better than Army and you all know how fast the Panda's can move."
"No strategy?" Pavel asked me quietly. "You sure?"
"Yeah," I said. "We good for this."
"If we embarrass ourselves in front of the whole fucking ship it's your fault."
"And if we get ourselves some fame?"
"Then it's my fault," he said.
"…the map is already simulated and the room is ready to go! We're only missing one little thing now," the commentator went on, "one of the Rangers asked me for a special favor, and since I owe him, I pretty much have to do it. He said that he wanted some soundtrack to kick ass to."
Everybody save for Private Novak turned to face Robert, who just shrugged and smiled at us. "You're gonna love this," he promised.
The song started with a steady beat. A bass drum or whatever you call it, the one where you're supposed to step on a pedal, that one. Then a very electric sounding guitar was added. At that point several square pillars were raised from the ground. They were maybe two feet wide and seven and a half feet tall. There were a few of the traditional chest-high walls thrown in the mix. The columns and walls were only in the central section of the room.
"Get to it!" the commentator's voice boomed just as another electric instrument was added to the song. It was a very deep sound that gradually got higher.
"Greyhound by SHM," Novak said.
"I think I'm in love with you," Rob joked without missing a beat, jogging towards the arena proper. At least I hope he was joking.
"You an old music fan?" Pavel queried.
"Just house."
"House?" I asked.
"It's a genre," she explained.
"Huh."
By that point we were too far away to have a conversation and slammed onto the first column. I turned around and aimed at the enemy side with my SMG while walking to the next column, which was just seven feet away. The columns were set up in a grid-like pattern. The walls occasionally broke the pattern, but it was a completely symmetrical map that was very predictable. The players, however weren't so predictable.
I almost shat my pants when a camera drone appeared right next to my head. I glared at it as the commentator made a joke about me shitting my pants because of the drone. I waved it away and it moved a few feet backwards.
"Here comes the drop!" Rob called out.
Immediately after he said that the song got a serious bass sound going on. I'm beyond the point of hating myself for admitting it, but I loved it. It was getting me pumped.
Rob got punished for his shouting and a moment later both he and Snark were pinned behind their respective covers by series of shots from an unseen enemy. I moved up another column and leaned sideways to try and spot the offenders, but they were out of sight. All I could hear was their cussing and the snapping noise that the training rounds made. The pillar protecting them was already getting covered with the hardened foam.
"Damn, looks like two of the Rangers are pinned down, can they get out?" He paused. "Not without help they can't."
A few moments later I heard fire coming from Pavel and Novak's direction. There were a few scattered shots in response, but I could tell that we had the situation under control.
"Ooh! The battle gets more…symmetrical."
Did that mean there was a single guy in front of me? I peeked out to try and spot anyone, but I could see nothing except for columns and columns. Well, there was a wall that would be about as high as my waist five columns away.
"He's gonna make a run for it!"
"Stop narrating everything!" I told the man as I pulled myself forward for additional speed.
A couple of bullets slammed onto the columns next to me, but I couldn't pin their origin. I slid down into the wall, scraping my shins and thighs. It's not as easy to do without protective plates of ceramic and titanium. I shuffled so that my back was pressed against the wall and my feet were stretched. The first thing I did was look to my left.
To my surprise one of the members of Blue Team (AKA Pandas) was using the column to stabilize himself. He was the guy that had been firing on Snark and Robert. He hadn't spotted me, so I took my time when aiming at him. Normally I would've sprayed with my BR55, which was a highly reliable weapon in long-distance engagements. The M7 I was currently toting, not so much.
Of course the first shot went wild, and so did the second one. There was a loud alarm blare. The third shot hit the guy in the ankle. He cowered away from the shots and to the other side of the column, putting it between him and me. A second later he fell backwards with a chest full of hardened foam. Another loud noise was heard.
"Wow, two kills in as many seconds!" the commentator commented. "Well, one for each team, but it was pretty cool."
Judging form the precision of the shots that the Panda guy had been hit with I deduced that Snark was still alive and kicking while Rob was cussing at everything and everyone because the foam wouldn't allow him to move.
I peeked over cover and immediately ducked when two bullets flew by. Well, training bullets, but that takes too long to type.
This time I spotted the shooter. He was pretty close, but at an awkward angle, so I could risk it. I got into a running position and launched myself across to the next column. I popped so that I was facing the side directly opposite from where we had started the game and then to the left. I moved forward with my gun raised and scanned the area.
"Man this shit is tense!" the commentator said.
I don't know who he was talking about, but it certainly felt tense to me.
I spotted movement and jumped sideways before going around a column and emerging on the other side. One of the Pandas was three columns in front of me. I fired at least twenty rounds into him before he went down. He got a couple of shots off but they all slapped against the floor or flew past me. The guy fell to the floor and another blare was heard.
"Rangers take the lead!"
"Yeah, just tell the other guys," I muttered under my breath before jogging towards Snark's position.
"Sarge," he called out from an unseen position. "Over here!"
"Hey," I said. "What happened to Rob?"
"Headshot, don't know whether it was skill or luck."
I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's four against three, let's flan-"
Two blares in quick succession. I waited for the verdict.
"And it gets interesting with three against two!"
"Shit," I cursed. "C'mon, let's go."
We walked around the arena, covering each other and checking all posible attack points. After we had gone deep into their starting side I stopped.
"See anything?"
"Nope."
"Here," I said, clasping my hands together and positioning myself against a column. "I'll give you a boost and you tell me what you see."
Snark nodded and jumped up to the column quickly. He was there for ten seconds before jumping back down. "Nothing."
And then we started getting peppered from the side.
We took cover in different columns as bullets hit right next to us. Snark popped from cover and fired three shots. Two alarm blares were heard. One was from the guy that Snark killed and the other one because of Snark himself. My last remaining ally collapsed to the floor with the right side of his face covered with hardened foam. It might've been slightly comical if it didn't mean that I would likely meet the same end.
"Whoa! Two simultaneous headshots, you don't see that everyday!"
"Sarge," he coughed. "Do something awesome." He then proceeded to make a dying noise and roll his head to the side.
I popped from cover and fired as fast as I could at the wall where the two Pandas were hiding while the commentator was saying that Snark had a penchant for the dramatic even though he was a terrible actor. My concentrated fire coupled with the surprise of having one of their teammates shot right next to them meant that both of the enemies ducked behind cover. I took advantage of that and collapsed the stock of the SMG before sprinting while firing. I dropped the clip when I ran out and reloaded before I slid into the other side of the wall. Before anybody could react I jumped over the wall and shot the two shocked Pandas one time in the chest.
"Well…" the commentator said. "That was…awesome!" He made more crowd noises and declared us the victors. I left the three dead guys (two of them my victims) and walked out while flexing both arms playfully. The song was just ending and I felt seriously badass.
Next game I was the first one out on the team.
On the third one I was knocked out right before Novak finished off the last guy on the other team. She was crafty. Not as sneaky as Snark, but she seemed to know exactly when she should move from cover to avoid being spotted.
Then we got a long lunch break so that the survivors could rest.
"Well, this has been fun," I said tiredly. This was tired. Hence the tired tone I used when I said that.
"Bloody wanker got me good last time," Rob was muttering, trying to pick foam bits out of his clothing. "Damn foam."
"Nice work Miranda," Snark said, patting her on the back. "Saved our asses."
"Well, technically speaking she just saved us from being eliminated," Pavel pointed out. "But yeah, thanks."
Miranda only shrugged and slung her rifle behind her back. All of the players were heading towards the nearest mess hall to get some nutrients on their bodies. When we arrived I noticed that every single team was conferring amongst themselves, looking over their shoulders and muttering. At first it seemed like something childish and ridiculous, but soon enough I found myself watching footage of the strongest teams' fights and analyzing it with Pavel's help.
Snark, Rob, and Novak played poker while we did that. Private Novak always seemed to lose. She was obviously not enjoying the game, but she kept playing for some reason. Maybe she felt pressured into it or something. I don't know, she was extremely withdrawn when compared to the rowdy Rob and the sometimes quiet sometimes not Snark. She'd have to come out of her shell soon or she'd end up the quiet, brooding type that was secretly a bitch.
Sort of like Grigori.
"So, house music?" I asked at nobody in particular.
"Good, isn't it?" Robert said. "Good shit. By the way, what kind do you like?" he directed that question at Novak.
She placed her cards next to her food tray and looked up. "Um, I guess I like the stuff from the second golden age more than anything else."
"Second golden age?" Pavel asked.
"Late twenty-fourth century," she explained. "Similar to the one that they played first." For some reason she looked terribly uncomfortable while talking about her likes and dislikes. Maybe she was a very private person?
After a while of rolling through the tapes of what we considered to be the toughest teams to face Pavel and I came up with outlines of what we would be doing in case we faced them. Some of the teams had very unusual playing styles. This wasn't war, it wasn't even a mock up of war. This was a game played with guns, people weren't afraid to get shot and they weren't afraid to pull of shit that would've gotten them killed in a battlefield.
Everyone was a badass here.
That frustrated me to no end.
After I finally finished my third serving we all stood up. I didn't feel guilty in the least for making my team wait for me. They seemed irritated and for a moment it looked like Novak wanted to say something, but closed her mouth. Perhaps it was a prudent move, perhaps it wasn't. I was not used to a Helljumper being so withdrawn. Grigori and Snark were quiet at times, but they weren't exactly withdrawn. They'd voice their opinions when they thought it necessary. Miranda Novak wouldn't.
"We're up," Pavel told me, checking the match schedule. "Semis."
"Let's go," I shrugged. We picked up our mandatory clips on our way inside and emerged into the completely flat arena.
Fifteen minutes later we emerged victorious, ready for the finals. This one was bound to be a good match.
And so it was.
Us five would face the reigning champions. One would think that they'd be our comrades from the ODST platoon or even a bunch of particularly talented marines. No, they were technicians that fueled and maintained the Pelicans and Longswords. They looked happy at the prospect of facing the best in a mock battle. I smiled at their eagerness and hoped that they would make this interesting.
"Remember, don't get cocky," I said. "They made it this far."
"The moment you've all been waiting for!" the commentator commentated in a commentating tone. "The final of the tourney! We have our reigning champions facing off against the unstoppable newcomers. A showdown for the ages, and all of it is being recorded and available for sale on my webpage."
I could literally feel the groaning through the windows.
"Ladies and gentlemen, marines and sailors, I give you…the labyrinth!"
And a labyrinth it was. The moment the commentator said that a wall emerged a few feet from our position. It was too tall for us to climb, even with one of us boosting the other.
"Now there, this isn't a particularly tough puzzle, there are even some wide open spaces," the commentator went on. "But it makes thing interesting. Go!"
We walked inside the sole entrance of the labyrinth and I looked on either direction before turning to face my team. "Right? Left?" I asked them. "Or do we want to separate."
"Two and three," Pavel suggested. "You take Private Novak. I'll take the vets."
I turned to face Snark and Rob. "Didn't know that you fixed animals for a living." I paused. "Sorry, that was a terrible joke."
"Indeed," Snark murmured. "Good luck."
"Likewise. Novak, you take point."
She nodded and started walking in a combat crouch with her weapon raised. I didn't quite understand why she was using the combat position, but it was her choice, not mine. We turned a couple of corners, met against a wall, and repeated the process a few times before we emerged into a rectangular room with nothing to provide cover.
"Stay here," I told her, "cover the other entrance."
Novak nodded and positioned herself behind the corner while aiming at the other entrance. I quickly ran along the wall while aiming at the entrance as well. When I was halfway through I saw movement on the other side and ducked to the side. Four rounds flew past me but none seemed to hit the enemy. I turned to face Novak, who just glanced away nervously. I shook my head and ran towards the opposite entrance and fired a couple of blind rounds before peeking my head through. There was nobody within sight.
"Come here," I whispered, waving her towards me. I stepped into the new corridor and the floor shifted.
"Oh, maybe I should've mentioned it," the commentator started, "but the labyrinth kind of moves occasionally. I'm not sorry."
I grunted and turned around only to almost slam into a wall. "Novak!"
"I hear you," she replied.
"Speak louder."
"I hear you."
I sighed. It was the exact same volume. "Just try to stay alive, I'll do the same."
"Ok."
I shook my head and steeled myself for the daunting task of solving a labyrinth while killing a highly efficient team of mechanics with M7 SMGs. I didn't want to end pasted to the walls for half an hour before the match ended. I moved forward very slowly, adapting the same position that Novak had at first. I somehow managed to ignore my hypocrisy until Schitzo reminded me of it. Fucking dick.
Ten minutes in I saw one of the other guys on the far end of a corridor. I fired as I ran towards him before ducking to the side on another opening. A few rounds hit near me, but none made contact. I was about to pop from cover when the loud blare was heard and immediately after that the walls shifted, cutting me off from the enemy.
The commentator didn't give any indication as to who had been shot. The walls were high enough that I couldn't see the holographic scoreboards on the side of the room. This was frustrating. Oh so very frustrating.
When I turned around I noticed that the walls here were a whole lot closer to one another than they had been before. I decided to give climbing them a shot. I jumped to the right and then pushed myself to the left. I did the same thing once more, but my foot slipped and I slammed to the floor, only just managing to place my hands in front of me to break my fall.
"Ouch, that's gotta hurt." The commentator seemed to enjoy his job a little bit too much. I'm almost positively sure that it was the animosity that came with his job.
"Yeah," I grunted. "Fuck you too."
I stood up, dusted myself off and slung my gun over my back before taking a couple of steps back and getting a running start. I jumped to the side, pushed myself to the left with my leg and arm and then repeated that same process with my left limbs. The second kick was much more powerful than the first in order to allow me to reach the top. I managed to hold on with just my fingertips, but I did get up on the top of the wall. In retrospect I think that it would've been easier than I expected to launch Novak up here. Maybe even Snark too. It just would've been counterproductive.
I ran the length of the wall and jumped to other walls, trying to spot enemies. It wasn't long before I found a lone mechanic. I hit him three times. A classic Mozambique drill. Two to the chest and one to the head. He took a step backwards before the huge mass of foam hardened and stuck his head in the position that it was. Just to top it off I fired one shot at each of his feet and had him stuck to his position.
"Some unsportsmanlike conduct right there," the commentator stated. "I do find it highly humorous though."
I kept jumping around the top of the labyrinth like a videogame character. It wasn't long before the floor disappeared under my feet and I was forced to twist so that I could land with a forward roll. It wasn't perfectly executed and I bruised my elbow before slamming into the wall in front of me as I emerged from the roll.
"Huh."
I turned to the source of the voice while drawing my weapon, but Rob was presenting his palms. "Hey Sarge."
"You know who the first kill was?" I asked, suddenly cursing myself for not taking a look when I could've.
"Pavel," he replied. "Bad luck really. We nicked one of the blokes that hit him, but he wasn't out. Must be having a terrible time right now though."
"So that makes it-" another loud blare. "Three two four. I just don't know which is which."
"Hey, don't worry about it too much."
"That's not like you," I told him as he helped me up.
He shrugged. "Let's go Sarge. I'm hungry."
"Now that's more like you," I smiled. "You take point?"
"Might as well."
We managed to stay together through a couple of more labyrinth shifts. It wasn't until the third time that the walls moved that the entire labyrinth disappeared and we suddenly found ourselves in a completely flat environment once more.
Shit.
I turned three hundred and sixty degrees, spotting all of the remaining competitors. Fire started flying past before I could see who the survivors were. Bullets foamed up an inch from my face before the walls quickly appeared again. Two blares were heard.
"Goddamn," I muttered, angry at the sudden stunt.
"Two to four," the commentator stated. "Rangers."
I sighed with relief. "Come on," I told Rob. "Let's finish this."
Half an hour of brutal mind games later we had finally cornered the last enemy player. Snark had taken a couple of hits and was out, but the three of us could handle this. The moment a piece of him was exposed we all pummeled him with fire. Eventually one round hit and he recoiled backwards. We slaughtered the poor man, almost completely covering him with hardened foam. I ordered my two surviving teammates to stop firing and smiled.
"Winner, winner chicken dinner," I said, stealing an old-fashioned phrase. "Next leave, chicken wings are on me."
You know, I might just get used to this ship.
Thanks to Alshep and SilasWhitfield for proof-reading this chapter.
So you met the guys on the ODST platoon, this is the first chapter where you get to know them. Obviously, we start off with Private Miranda Novak. Other characters will be explored in the following chapters. I'll try not to make them all dicks. We also get to explore the reasons why Hanna didn't answer any of Frank's messages.
Little trivia, the first paintball "map" is based on Hang 'Em High from Halo CE. Well, the ground level of the map at least.
I'm sorry, but I just felt like I had to use Greyhound by SHM in the chapter, it fit so well. It helped that I was listening to it when writing it down. You've probably heard the song at a party or something, if you like electronic music you should probably listen to it.
Please leave a review with feedback and thanks for reading this.
Stay strong.
-casquis