We made it through another week, so the reward is another BC chapter! Thanks once again for joining Hannah and me on this journey, for reading, reviewing, favouriting/following this fic. And one more thank-you goes out to BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel, beta readers extraordinaire. This fic wouldn't be what it is without their help.

Freedom Fighters

Written by TunelessLyric

"Attention, attention, get down on the floor

Don't reach for your pockets, don't run for the door"

-Shinedown, 'ATTENTION ATTENTION'

It was one of those restless nights when it didn't seem as if anyone could stay in bed. The day smeared together into a confusing, exhausted blur of colour, but Hannah found herself sitting on one of the benches in the gym. Aaron was beside her, tying his running shoes with singular focus. His hands were shaking as badly as hers, but neither of them said anything. So far nobody else joined them, but the night was still disappointingly young.

Standing up, he nodded at the data pad on the floor beside her water bottle. "What are we listening to tonight?" he asked.

They took turns picking music the nights they both dropped in for an impromptu workout. Considering how different they were, neither had hit a song the other didn't like yet.

"Something loud," she said, mouth twisting. Something that would silence the thoughts on steady repeat in her head.

He nodded, going over to turn the speakers on for her before wrapping his hands. She followed, scrolling through the artists she had collected over her career. Over her time in dance. A lifetime, it felt like, in those twenty-some years. Grimacing, she picked a band and set it to shuffle, unable to count the songs until something came up.

The guitar riff that pounded through the gym made Aaron grin before he took a few swings at his punching bag. Bouncing on the balls of his feet to the beat of the song, he nodded once. Already in love with her selection.

Hannah climbed onto a treadmill and shut her eyes until she was running through the music. She held onto the strings that wove through the crashing drums, taking the graceful sound into herself, crashing through the barriers in her mind one after the other. It was only her and the voice she had taken with her through the years. Across the galaxy and back, another constant in her life. One of the few she had left now.

She ran until her breath burned in her chest and her legs were numb. Until she could push her hair back and slick it down because it was soaked through. Only then did the treadmill slow. Only then did she allow herself to gulp down the water she had brought, walking for the length of the next song.

Single echoing sounds made her slam the treadmill into stillness. She stopped dead, caught between yanking the cord out of the data pad before the song played out and listening to it at last. Moving to it again the way she longed to.

"Stardust," began a long-gone singer whose name was lost to the centuries now.

Her decision made for her, Hannah walked out to the empty space Phoenix usually filled when they stretched before a session. The movement of her body was practised, instinctual. But when she shut her eyes to let the music fill her, it wasn't a studio or a stage that she saw. It was a nightclub full of strangers and strobing coloured lights that threw everything into a chaotic half-focus. If she turned her head, she was certain she would see him watching. Felt eyes on her.

The song ended. Hannah spun around, chest heaving, half to pull air in, half to do with the tears running down to drip from her chin. But Aaron was still going to town on the punching bag. His focus was nailed to his target as he spun around and around it. Hammered his fists into it.

She swept over to unplug her data pad. That finally made Aaron look away, panting and just as sweaty as she was. He lifted his eyebrows, too out of breath for words yet.

Wiping her eyes, she said, "I want a tattoo."

He took a drink from his water, nodding. "What am I doing?"

"You?" Her mouth dropped open.

A quick wink and a smirk was his answer.

"I was only going to ask for your opinion, but if you can do it, then yeah." That was an oddly convenient favour the universe had dealt out. Maybe she was due for one or twenty.

"Sure, I have some supplies here from…" he trailed off, a rare blush stealing up his neck. "I have some supplies," he finished lamely.

"So when can you do it?" Now that the opportunity had presented itself, it was hard to consider waiting another minute.

Aaron gave himself a cautious sniff. "Shower first. You, too, Bliz. Then we can meet in," he paused, trying to remember where he was staying tonight, "my room I think."

Holding up her hands, Hannah laughed in spite of herself. "You scout it out before inviting me over. I don't want to disturb Geist's sleep."

"The lug would sleep straight through a hurricane coming through. Any chance she'll be showing up tonight?" He shot her a conspiratorial look, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hannah pulled her shoe off and lobbed it at his head. "Get in the shower, Paul, before I drag you there myself. I want to get stabbed repeatedly tonight."

He snatched the projectile from the air and returned fire. "Ceasefire, ceasefire," he shouted, darting out of the gym. His voice came from down the hall, "I surrender!"

Scooping up her shoe from where it landed, she took off after him, chasing the laughter through the halls. His long legs piled on the distance between them, but she sprinted after him as if she hadn't just run for an hour. Aaron disappeared around a corner, pushing off the wall so he didn't have to slow down too much. By the time she reached the same corner, he was waving through the narrowing gap as the door to the men's showers closed, cheeky smile glowing in the low light.

Breathless, Hannah shook her head and headed for the women's showers instead. In less than ten minutes, she was scrubbed and dry in a set of oversized fatigues. The picture of a soldier ready to hit the hay. Aaron met her, hands up and still murmuring, "I surrender."

"You're on recon duty," she reminded him, waving him forward.

"Right you are."

He led the way down the hall to the barracks, pressing himself to the walls to peek around the corners, humming the theme of an old spy vid the whole way.

He was so committed to the bit that Hannah couldn't help herself. She played along, doing her best terrible scouting and watching his six. Finally, Aaron was at his own door and, finger pressed to his lips, he let himself in. Hannah waited in the hall, finger finding a long scar dug into the wall that looked like it had been made by Harper's favourite blade.

A red head poked out of Aaron's room. "Coast's clear," he stage-whispered, waving her in.

Whereas Lucas' quarters were cluttered beyond hope and Hannah's own room was impersonally spare, Aaron's was comfortable. The bed was neatly made and the desk looked as if it had once been organized. A pair of boots were kicked over beside the door, a hoodie tossed across the desk chair. It looked lived-in.

"So," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out his tattoo equipment, "what am I putting on you and where is it going?"

Lifting her data pad, Hannah opened her picture collection and displayed the design she had settled on. She pointed out the various adjustments she wanted made, additions she had in mind. And she pointed to her unscarred side, tracing a line out.

"I love it already." Aaron patted his bed and rolled his chair over. "Make yourself at home and all that shit. This is going to hurt you more than it'll hurt me."

"It hurts to be beautiful," she answered, pulling her shirt off so he could work along her ribs unhindered. Her mouth tightened at the memory of Pascal telling each member of Orange that at one time or another, treating their various wounds over the years.

"You know it."

He propped the data pad against her hip while he worked on the stencil. She let him concentrate on the task, looking at the night sky as he drew with a sure hand. It took less time than she expected. The pyro may have missed his calling as a tattoo artist, she thought idly.

With no small amount of pride in his finished product, he showed her what he had come up with based on her instructions.

"It's better than I imagined it," she said.

Grinning, he transferred it to her skin and had her check it one final time. Inspection passed, Aaron picked up the ink and machine.

It hurt far less than a lot of things she had gone through. Still wasn't the best feeling in the world, but the end result was going to be more than worth it. About halfway through the process, Geist joined them silently. He stood behind Aaron and watched him colour her skin.

"You're in my light," the pyro announced. Had it been anyone else, she was sure he would have filled that short sentence with passive aggressiveness. Instead it was a statement. Almost a gentle chide.

The assassin moved instantly, settling himself cross-legged on the floor. Shoulder touching Aaron's leg unobtrusively.

"You two are cute."

It slipped out before Hannah could fully appreciate the ridiculousness of the statement. A pair of Insurrectionists who specialized in murder and destruction, and an odd pair of them at that, cute. But it was the best description she could come up with.

Aaron leaned back in his chair and laughed, dropping his free hand down to brush his elbow over Geist's head. "I guess that's what you could call it, sure." He certainly didn't sound bothered in the least by it.

The needle touched her side again, making her side tense on reflex.

"Since he's not in a chatty mood, I'll say it for him. I'm pretty much everything he's not. And he's everything I need. Patient enough to put up with my shit all these years now," explained Aaron.

Since Geist didn't correct any of it, Hannah figured it had to be true.

"You sound pretty lucky to have him," she said.

"Well, yeah. Don't get me wrong, you're all my best mates. Geist just… gets me, you know?"

She turned her head to meet the assassin's steady gaze. "Thanks for not killing me the other day."

He knew exactly what she meant. The day Aaron had sat on the pavement in the middle of the shattered glass and waited for her to act.

"Thanks for not letting the idiot die." But there weren't any teeth in those words. Not as he watched each sure stroke of ink. Just that same gratitude he had offered her that same day.

Hannah looked at the top of her tattoo artist's head. It was a bit strange to think about how quickly and easily he had taken up residence in the gap left by Dominic. How easily he made her laugh and agree to his crazy little jokes like humming spy music in the halls. "Couldn't let him," she answered.

"Before anyone starts cutting onions, stop talking. You're moving," said Aaron pointedly.

Fighting a smile, she shut up and let him work in silence. It wasn't too much longer, but her side was definitely getting sore. And she was finally feeling sleepy.

At last, the buzzing of the machine stopped and didn't start up again. Rolling his neck and wrists, Aaron smiled at her. "Take a look," he encouraged.

Geist nodded once, already gathering up used paper towels and containers of ink.

Sitting up, Hannah twisted to inspect the finished piece. The black skull was approximately the shape of a drop pod, except for the clawlike teeth at the bottom. Geometric shapes rose from it in what looked like a hundred shades of red, yellow and orange flames. Weaving through the fire were threads of blue and white ice. And underneath, in lines that mirrored the lines on the other side of her torso, he had added their callsigns. DJ, Rags, Slip and Pitch, right where she could read them any time she happened to look down. To match the fifth scar, the words Right behind you traced down her side.

"I love it," she breathed, resisting the urge to touch the stinging marks.

"Yeah, looks good. Nice little piece you got, Hannah." Aaron peeled his gloves off and gave her a one-armed hug. "Now get yourself to bed before you pass out in here."

"Night, you guys," she said, letting herself out a few minutes later, bandaged up.

"Sleep well," they answered in unison.

"All right." Harper had his hand tangled in the netting overhead, addressing the team. "Standard procedure, just enter and sweep. We're expecting moderate resistance, but nothing unusual. There's an entire square dedicated just for us, so we'll split up into our usual pairs and clear buildings. Unfortunately, Allen's stuck us down near the docks in the industrial section, but maybe we'll find something interesting down there. Questions?"

Blizzard slid the magazine from her assault rifle to check that each round was properly loaded, then peeked at the breach. Satisfied her weapon was clear, she slammed the magazine back home. Nobody asked any questions.

"Good. Let's have some fun, Phoenix." The team leader clomped to the lowering ramp as the Pelican landed.

Circuit bounced up and down, swinging his deactivated humbler to loosen his wrist, waiting for Blizzard to get to her feet. They offloaded together, following Harper across the freight yard. With her rifle up and at the ready, she scanned for any waiting targets. She came up empty and headed off to the left with Circuit. Firefly waved to them, breaking right with the rest of the team.

The two Innies advanced carefully, sweeping the alley leading to their first building and keeping to cover as much as possible.

"Five credits on an ambush in the warehouse," said Circuit, powering up his humbler as they crouched behind a Dumpster.

"No bet," she answered, peering around the corner, blinking her VISR on. Her motion tracker didn't show anything, but hesitant red lines shimmered in and out near the boarded windows.

He chuckled and charged across the abandoned street. Deciding not to go for subtlety and take extra time while they were exposed, the engineer went for the simplistic and elegant entry that featured shooting the locking mechanism with his sidearm. Joining him, Blizzard knelt on the other side of the door, aiming in while he shoved it open.

Bullets hailed out past them, sending up sprays of concrete.

"Glad you didn't take that bet, yeah?" Circuit leaned over to fire back.

Blizzard's VISR finally caught the FOFs at the reduced range. "You're seeing this, right?" she double-checked.

Of course he was. Her partner didn't bother answering that, having dismantled her helmet to reverse-engineer the VISR system. And apply upgrades such as toggling this filter without activating the low-light function.

She turned to the storage containers a couple soldiers were using as cover, throwing a grenade in their direction. They scattered, rolling into the open for Circuit to pick off while she swapped back to her rifle. In that chaos, he ducked into the building.

A sniper round made her scramble back out of the doorway, nearly punching through her arm.

"On it already," said Circuit, helmet lifting to search through the rafters.

Blizzard switched to a new magazine and went back to suppressing the rest of the squad on the upper level. Making him time to work. A couple of their targets made the mistake of trying to move up to flank her teammate. They each earned a burst to the chest for their trouble, collapsing into a stack of crates that wobbled with their weight.

"Whenever you're ready," she said tightly, flattening herself to the ground as another sniper round ripped overhead.

"Patience, please," he answered, painting a section of the rafters. "Right, give me a good throw."

She rolled back to her feet. "You're actually serious?" She was pretty sure she knew what he had in mind. "Are you secretly a track star?"

Another crack announced the armour-piercing bullet before it passed through the wall beside her, missing her by less than an inch. That made her decision for her. Palming another grenade from her belt, Blizzard threw it as hard as she could, eyes on the beams Circuit marked. He fired one shot, tracking the explosive just long enough to see the star bloom overhead.

Without the chance to even swear at his terrible plan, she stood up, staring down the sights just long enough to ensure nobody shot her track star in the back instead of paying attention to the collapsing building. She didn't have to worry about that. Her hand fisted around his upper arm and dragged him back across the street to hunker behind the Dumpster again.

Skidding in the gravel, she threw herself down, adrenaline spiking through her. Flopping next to her, Circuit gave her a thumbs up as he panted.

"You're fucking stupid," she growled.

"I mean," he shouted over the thundering collapse at their backs, "it worked."

Blizzard stood to survey the damage. Her partner got to his feet beside her. Shoulder crashing into his, she sent him sprawling without warning.

"Right. I deserved that."

Dust roiled up, disappearing into the morning clouds.

"Everything good, you two?" asked Falcon, a block away.

"I'm going to kill Circuit when we get home," answered Blizzard.

The team second chuckled before silencing their channel again.

"Well." Circuit got back to his feet again. "Let's see what other trouble we can get up to?"

"You're really proud of yourself for that." It wasn't a question as she approached the wreckage cautiously.

At her side, she could hear the grin in his voice as he replied, "It was a shot even Crosshair would approve of."

"Crosshair wouldn't have dropped a building on himself."

With nothing on their HUDs to indicate any survivors, they moved on to the next stop on the Phoenix tour.

It took the entire day for the team to work their way across their area. Gunfire still echoed from a few streets over as the team reunited back at the Pelican. Nobody looked any worse for wear, aside from being dusty from crawling through the dingiest part of town. Harper lifted a hand in the laziest wave in history, swinging his leg as he lounged across the bench seats in the troop bay.

"I hear you guys started off with a loud noise," Hunter greeted Circuit, pulling his helmet off to sweep a hand through his sweaty hair.

Blizzard followed her partner up the ramp, magnetizing her rifle across her shoulders. Her pack was stowed overhead and she was more than ready for an MRE.

"You should have seen Bliz's throw. It was absolutely unbelievable," the engineer answered, miming a pitch and putting his hand to the brow of his helmet as if shielding his eyes to watch his invisible projectile.

"And what, exactly, was she throwing that you're so proud of?" asked Crosshair, digging into his own pre-packaged meal.

Blizzard had to climb up onto the seat to reach her pack, slipping her foot between Harper and the wall carefully. One hand latched into the netting for balance while she stretched as much as she could. "Oh, a frag grenade," she said conversationally.

"A frag grenade." Falcon raised an eyebrow.

"I shot it out of the air. Collapsed a warehouse." Circuit relaxed into the seat beside Hunter, reaching up to spike his black hair out at the back. "All better."

"Cheers, mate." Hunter sounded unimpressed.

"What he didn't mention was how he was standing in the middle of the warehouse at the time," added Blizzard, finally snagging her pack and hauling it down, narrowly missing Harper's face. The team lead didn't even flinch.

Everyone turned to cut Circuit varying glares.

"Save it, she already threatened me and pushed me down. It worked, I knew what I was doing," he said defensively.

Hunter shook his head. "You're an idiot."

Sitting on the blood tray, Blizzard peeled into her food and yanked her helmet off so she could scratch the backs of her ears luxuriously. "Anyone else in the running for dumbass of the day?" she asked.

"Firefly almost stepped on a mine," offered Harper, lying back and piling his hands on his chest. "You want to talk about situational awareness? He's an expert."

"Hey! I was shooting at the battle-rifle-happy chick who had your number, Boss," the pyro complained. "You didn't even warn me and I was doing you a favour."

"How was I supposed to know you were walking with your eyes closed?" Harper shot back.

Blizzard laughed, chewing the dirt-flavoured energy bar from the MRE.

"Situational awareness my ass, you weren't paying any attention to me," grumbled Firefly.

"Contacts."

Like a switch flipping, Geist's voice cut through the bantering instantly.

Harper was on his feet, stalking to the bottom of the ramp. "How many?"

Food was abandoned, helmets jammed back on. Weapons freed. All before the sentry answered, "Three squads."

"Shit," muttered Firefly, grabbing Blizzard's shoulder pauldron and hoisting her to her feet. She didn't complain. Only followed him out of the Pelican with Circuit on their heels.

"Hunter, Falcon, Crosshair, with me. Geist, go with them." Green eyes swiped over them. "Circle out and around. Stay in contact, keep an eye on each other."

Without wasting time with words, the four of them flashed blue acknowledgement lights and jogged into the night.

There used to be floodlights across the freight yard. Somewhere during the URF invasion either electricity was cut off or the lights had been damaged and all they had came from the light pollution of the city proper. None of them turned their flashlights on, relying on their low-light filters to avoid crashing into the shipping containers.

Geist stayed out in front, closer than usual as they advanced. Following five feet behind and off his left shoulder, Blizzard strained her ears for any shift in the gravel ahead or on her side. But it was Firefly who hissed, "On my four o'clock," down the group's comms.

She swivelled, eyes sweeping the green-tinged yard for a target. "I don't see anything," she breathed back.

A shadow shifted, lighting up red on her HUD at last. In the distance, automatic weapons fire echoed out across the harbour. Blizzard squeezed her trigger the same second a dense body fell on her from above. Rolling with the impact, she was faceplate to faceplate with a stocky soldier. He cuffed her in the side of the head, the blow bouncing off her helmet. Her fist came back before slamming downward. He couldn't hold in the cry of pain as it connected solidly.

The soldier thrashed, using his greater weight and reach to throw her off. The Innie rolled back onto her feet, pulling the sidearm free of her thigh to bury a double-tap in his chest. As he dropped, she spun, trying to hear over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears.

Geist faced three UNSC soldiers, two with their knives drawn while the other pumped a shotgun. Firefly rocketed up to the top of the stack of freight containers to deal with the marksman. And Circuit was wrapping up a tussle with his own opponent, humbler zipping through the air.

Shifting her feet, Blizzard focused on the shotgun. Her shot caught him in the knee, putting him on the ground. From the corner of her eye, Geist ran the first of the remaining soldiers through, sword tearing through flesh and ballistics vest like nothing. Blizzard fired again and her victim went limp.

She darted over to her fallen rifle, one eye on the assassin as he beheaded the woman still facing him.

"You good, Firefly?" asked Circuit, standing with his heart-stopping stun baton against his adversary's chest. The unfortunate corpse was still twitching.

A shot rang out. "Yep," he answered, breathing hard.

Geist checked them all over as soon as Firefly's feet were back on solid ground. "Let's go," he said, satisfied nobody was wounded.

The air was still and near-silent again. Harper's half of the team must have finished their own fight on the far side of the yard. Just one more squad left to catch between them. Falling back into their same positions, the assassin led his group around the perimeter. This time they kept checking the stacks of crates they passed, wary of another ambush from overhead.

Blizzard felt the most relaxed she had been in months, despite the adrenaline sharpening her focus. She certainly didn't get the impression they were being hunted as they neared the end of their half-circle, which was odd. Peering through the gloom, she half wondered where the remaining contacts had hidden themselves.

They turned to cut down the centre of the freight yard, the harbour at their backs. Gentle lapping belied the depth of the water that allowed ships to dock and offload cargo.

"You owe me six credits," Crosshair's voice was in their ears. "Geist, you missed a squad."

The report of his sniper rifle was uncomfortably close.

Feeling eyes on her, Blizzard turned on her heel, warning nearly on her lips as a red outline crashed into Circuit.

The two of them went over the edge and splashed into the dark water. Blizzard felt droplets patter against her back. She whirled in time to see the top of the engineer's helmet disappear beneath the surface.

One hand was at the buckles of her chestplate. No time to think about it. Fingers caught at the fastenings. Her rifle against the magnetic strips across her back. Too much weight. They would all sink straight to bottom and never come back.

"Firefly," she said.

He stared at the spot the waves claimed Circuit. Hands hung at his sides.

She worked at the buckles on the other side. Pulled the magnum from her thigh. A glance toward the centre of the yard and she saw Geist wading through the Army soldiers, sword flashing in the low light.

"Aaron!" she snapped, wanting to shake him.

He looked slowly, so slowly, around. Tore his eyes off the water.

"Get my shoulder plates off." It was an order, inflections coming back effortlessly.

"Right," he said, voice a million miles away. He strode over, every limb tense, to begin picking at her armour.

She unbuckled her belt, spare equipment no more than added weight. Together, they dropped so many protective plates to the ground. Seconds raced by, counting down the oxygen Circuit had.

"Help Geist," she said, shoving Firefly in the direction of the fight. "Call Harper."

Blizzard turned back to the harbour. Not even considering the fact that she'd rather outrace a collapsing warehouse again, she dove into the water.

Bubbles rushed past, deafening her as she swam for the bottom. Then there was nothing but her breathing. Her VISR tried to cut through the water. Failed.

"Circuit?" she panted. Hoped his suit wasn't ruptured or filling with water. Her flashlight turned on, cutting through the darkness.

Another light answered her, shining from the murk. "Here."

Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, she heard herself ordering, "Dump as much as you can. I'll help you with the rest."

The deeper she got, the more weight she felt squeezing on her chest. How far down were they? Then the hazy outline of the engineer took shape. His movements were sluggish, fighting against the current. Against the pressure.

Blizzard had to tread water to keep from floating away, but once her hand closed around Circuit's armour, he anchored her. Her fingers were clumsy with the cold seeping through her undersuit, slipping over his arm instead of unclasping the plate. Too slow, this was taking too long. She tried again, managing to hook her hands into his elbow and fumble the buckle open. It sank into the sand, throwing a cloud of silt over them.

Her breathing was loud to her own ears. "You get your armour off and I'll do whatever stupid, dangerous plans you come up with, no questions asked, Thorpe."

"Yeah," he said, voice tremoring.

Another piece of armour fell away. They worked on opposite sides of his chest, Blizzard kicking against the water trying to tear her off. Her fingers strained against the pull.

Come on.

He got his side undone with a weak cheer. The latch released in her hand. Relief broke through her calm front, the weight dragging her down as Circuit floated free. Blizzard let go of the metal, pushing off the muddy bottom and grabbing his hand instead.

"We'll call it even?" he asked between gasping breaths as they swam for the surface.

"Yeah, even," she answered, barely listening. Trying to figure out how they were going to haul themselves out once they got up there.

The ascent seemed to take much longer than her dive.

"Sitrep?" asked Harper, breath coming hard. "Yeah, eat shit, Marine!"

Clearly he was still having the time of his life.

"Next time Allen tells you we've got the harbour, do me a favour." Blizzard could see faint moonlight filtering down through the water as they neared the surface. "Tell him water's bad for firebirds."

Circuit was still kicking, still stroking with his free arm, but it was getting slower.

She sent up a fervent thanks to White for making his team train until they fell through that wall and found an entire second wind. Her own body was nearing that point, her swimming turning sloppy, limbs leaden. Every movement cost her as her chest burned.

Their heads crashed through the surface and both treaded in a circle, trying to find dry land.

"Over," said Circuit, a wave slapping into his visor, "there."

She pivoted, grabbing his shoulder and flipping him onto his back so they could three-armed stroke in the direction of muzzle flashes. It wasn't going to win any synchronized swimming medals, but it was mostly effective.

"Going to need help up," she said.

"Lucky you, we're just finished." One final shot cracked out over the water.

Green friendly outlines rushed over to the verge. Firefly's distinctive helmet faced the yard on guard duty.

With Circuit's help, they reached the wall. Blizzard's free hand latched onto the edge far over her head, hauling him close. "Up you get," she said, lifting him as much as she could.

Falcon and Crosshair reached down to grab each of his hands and haul him up.

"You, too, Bliz." Harper was flat on his belly, holding his hand out to her, Hunter at his side.

"Sec," she said, catching her breath.

"Now. We don't have a second." Hunter's voice was little more than a growl.

Gathering her legs under her to leverage against the wall, she stretched until Harper caught her hand in a vise grip. Hunter's fingers closed around her wrist and together the two men dunked her under, using the momentum to pull her out. The second she hit solid ground, she was sprinting for her armour. Phoenix closed ranks around the two half-drowned members.

That was the night Blizzard set a record for getting her armour on. In one minute flat, she was done latching the plates back on with Circuit's help, the team already moving back toward the Pelican. Tightening the last strap, she broke into a jog with a nod in Harper's direction. Firefly handed her weapons back.

Blizzard staggered through the exhaustion, brisk cold flooding her system until her numb legs woke back up. Her ragged breathing turned smooth again, heavy head back on alert.

Which was when the next wave of Marines fell on them.

"Falcon, get the Pelican started," said Harper.

Falcon and Crosshair broke off from the main group, backing away until Falcon's weapon was out of range.

Blizzard shoved Circuit behind her. Not much in the way of cover, but it was better than him standing there in his undersuit. Without needing to be told, he took the magnum from its place on her leg and braced against her shoulder to shoot.

Hunter, Harper and Geist were in the thick of things almost immediately. They spun from soldier to soldier, cutting paths that wove through each other somehow without colliding. Blizzard stopped keeping track of individual UNSC forces. If it was red on her VISR, it was shot. The details didn't matter as long as one of her teammates wasn't in danger.

"All right, let's go," called Falcon, the sound of a large engine starting up behind them.

Circuit sagged against her, still breathing hard. She started backing up, doing her best to keep her gun raised. The trio in close combat began leading the fight toward their bird, reluctant to leave their enemies alive. Unwilling to turn their backs to them and run.

She heard her partner's boots hit metal ramp without realizing how far they had moved. "Harper!" she shouted into the mess of bodies.

He flashed a blue light on her HUD. Without a word, Hunter ended his fight with a sloppy stab. Breaking off from the group, he and Geist slipped past her. Firefly went next, pulling Circuit into the troop bay with him. Harper ducked under a punch and dove up the ramp while Blizzard aimed one final burst into the middle of the Marines. She spun and threw herself into the Pelican proper as it lifted off.

The ramp folded up, sealing them safely inside.

Blizzard finally went limp on the floor, helmet bouncing off the metal grating once as she heaved in one breath after another.

"Close enough for ya?" asked Harper, standing next to her head and looking down with an amused expression.

Her hand lifted off the floor, arm shaking with effort, to show him a middle finger.

"Right, anyone hurt?" He faced the rest of the team.

"Got clipped right at the end," offered Firefly, hand clamped over his calf as blood leaked between his fingers.

Hunter had his forearm draped over the top of his helmet. "Need a few stitches," he announced. "It can wait until we get off this rock."

"Bliz, you're bleeding." Circuit sounded concerned.

She sat up, still breathing hard. From the haze of the rest of the battle, nothing jumped out at her that could have caused it. "Didn't even feel it happen," she said, staring down at the round hole in her abdomen.

And promptly passed out.