UNSC In Amber Clad Log

ENTRY 1

Delta

Lance Corporal Malissa Mckenzie

October 20th, 2552,

18:52 EAT {East Africa Time}


Blood ran in the rubbled street like a river. It seeped into the rocks and cracks filling them like potholes. A destroyed city with burning buildings and smoke coming off of them lifting to the heavens above like a cry to God for help. As people in their outgoing civilian clothing fled in panic as monsters, aliens… the Covenant chased them down like lambs to the slaughter. Most of them were women and children, and men often served in the armed forces so many left behind were women and children. Scattered bloody limbs and seared carcasses, it was the apocalypse from hell. Car sirens wailed from their crashed metal husks from the sides of buildings and in the middle of the street. The awful smell of burning hair and flesh penetrated the noses like a stain. It was so pungent many would gag at this feeling.

There were no dead aliens. It was all human. Scattered for hundreds of yards through the city the bodies piled in various areas. Screaming in their unique way as their souls

Gunshots and artillery fire in the distance, this was beyond a warzone. This was something else, something more sinister and purely evil. This was a crusade for the extinction of mankind.

In the center of the chaos was a woman. A Singular ODST. A red cross was on her helmet telling of her combat medic prowess. Her eyes are wide and blood dripped down her nose and into the dirt adding just another spec to the field of warfare. Her face was dirty and her armor faded, she had well beyond seen her tour of battle. The visor was cleared so one could see straight through it and to see her concerned face perfectly.

She was to the side of another soldier, a fellow ODST squadmate. He lay seemingly unconscious in a limp manner. Covered in blood and passed the state of basic injury the situation was passed dire. Eyes closed and fading out of life, his body began to rock.

She began chest compressions.

4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10…

Each flex in her arms begged the body of the man to take another breath. Sparing him the thought of another chance of life. She pressed so hard and quickly to get through his armor that it was quite exhausting.

24… 25… 26… 27… 28… 29… 30

She leaned over and forced a quick blow of air into his lungs through the mouth. A second pause seeing no response she tried again. Back to compression. Rotating the process again.

And again.

And again.

Each time she groaned in pain from her starving exhaustion as well as thought that her brother in arms could be gone. Death around her swallowed her spirit as well as his as she fell over for a moment in exhaustion. A marine she was, but also human. Taking a last moment to take in the final sight, she began to sob. The medic for the first time in a long while had her emotions bellow out all in one catastrophic eruption. Surrounded by all this death and destruction it was too much. The death of her comrade was a cherry on top of a sense of insanity.

As she looked around and took in the sensation of destruction, it haunted her like a wraith in the night. All bodily emotions and feelings faded, and what was left…. Nothingness. The same as the bodies around her. Nothing. She became one of them that day in a way. It's the closest to death the Reaper himself will allow many to get to while cheating it. Cheating death is not what the legends say it to be. To cheat death is to deny life, it was a whole new death in itself.

It enveloped this marine medic like a huge one with long tendrils and claws. Holding her tight and never letting her go.

And it never will.


A sharp breath followed by a quick turn around in the bed covers. Darkness surrounded telling it was the dead of night. Looking around for a moment in the 'flight or fight' response, she took a slight inhale of relief looking over to her side and seeing the clock. It's a slightly dim green light shown as the only visible thing in the whole room.

04:35 AM.

"It's just a dream," she thought before rubbing her eyes.


The mess hall was overrun with marines and staff. A short and quick food break was necessary for everyone considering what was next. Before any mission stuffing their faces with cafeteria food was always a luxury and space most men and women did, considering for the next few rotations the only food available was UNSC-grade soldier rations. The stuff was awful and tasteless and was often called "food goo," giving it an almost sinister reputation. The UNSC had a lot of mouths to feed especially amongst its soldiers, so when the opportunity came to fill themselves on the cafeteria mulch was more than welcomed (even though to the common civilian it would have been seen still as low quality).

Officers enlisted, and mechanical staff alike all gathered in their free time in the mess hall. It was a strange sense of community and camaraderie amongst peers, but one still shared.

A quick moment of silence passed over the room when a group of soldiers in their casual deck uniforms came in. They did notice the quick vibe change, and most of them ignored it. When everyone is staring it is still hard to pass away and the subtleties are caught on. Whispers and quiet talk filled the void amongst general conversation from the others who either did not care or noticed.

"You heard about Axel squad?" whispered a voice with a slight southern accent. The two troopers were sitting in a booth.

"No?" one responded.

"Heard they performed so well in their last mission the whole squad is gettin' a promotion."

"In New Mombasa?"

"I reckon so. Even the Sarge. Have never heard of such a thing."

From the booth behind them was a group of two marines, frowning and looking discontent. They did overhear the two mechanics chit-chatting, which only made their disposition worse. They all wore similar marine uniforms, with the same red flame logo stitched on their left shoulder. Their last names are stitched to their uniform in the top left part of their chest.

One man, with the name of 'Shyld' on his deck uniform, had red hair and deep blue eyes. He sternly gazed in slight anger at the gossiping mechanics. Shyld had always been a hothead, always making assumptions about situations and prejudging just about anything. From the height of a Sangheili to the basics of even tactical drills he always was a poor judge. It would always bite him hard, as he was the lowest ranking of the squad, still an E1. But, the UNSC needs any able-bodied man or woman that they could get their hands on.

Leaning over to one of the other men in the squad Shyld laughed, "How much you wanna bet these mechanics have never seen a Covie up close?" The faint Austrailian accent was deep and rich.

This marine, 'Perez', chuckled to himself, "They're probably just city boys working for a union."

"Yeah, probably."

Perez, the E3, was second in command of the squad. He was the medical support, he carried all their supplies with them. Of Hispanic heritage (specifically Jericho V, which is settled mostly by people of Mexican/Spanish origin), hardly any accent to his tongue, he had black buzz cutter hair and a tan face.

"Jesus, that's dumb," mumbled Shyld.

"Yea, after Newsong I don't know if they are ever gonna promote us," Perez huffed.

"Well," he grunted, "My mudda' takes everything I make so be lucky that ya got yer own stuff."

"Ain't that the truth," they both glanced over to see their CO, Sergeant Beauregard, come into the mess hall. He stood an inch taller than the rest of them. His deep green eyes were sharp and commanderly. With him was a woman, a few inches shorter with a low bun wrapping her hair from behind her head. It was jet black along with her eyebrows. Her skin tan and surprised Perez to see someone of a similar nationality to him, Spanish it seems. Perez of course being more Mexican in origin still never minded a Spaniard… especially with all the 'gringos'.

She was slightly curved in stature even for a woman, with bigger hips and a smaller clenched stomach. The uniform blocked or compressed her chest so it was hard to tell. But the two male marines were eyeing her up and down.

Of course, the two men could not help themselves from having strange thoughts. Not dark but a bit more lewd. They had not seen or even interacted with a female in almost a year (both of them), and to have one as their CO? This had to be a sick joke.

And now on top of that, she was in a similar deck uniform to the other two men. Even having the same squad symbol on her left shoulder. Hers, although, was white and red symbolizing a combat medic.

"A fucking medic? Good God, what do we need training wheels? That's Axel's job," Shyld thought.

"Sergeant," they both said, standing up out of their booths and doing a quick respectful hand gesture (not a salute as he is not an officer). They were both a few inches taller than the woman (not by much).

Beauregard veered to them, "Perez, Shyld, this is Lance Corporal McKenzie. She will brief you on our next mission, and…" he leaned over to them with a stern gaze, "She is the squad's new XO."

Those words rattled Shyld's heart. He has been wanting, no, needing this promotion forever now. The last mission yes, went poorly… but to be offered up by a filler instead? And by a woman for that matter? This was horrible! This simply could not be! Horrible realizations passed through his mind. Was he not good enough? Why is this happening?

"LC," said Perez making the same respectful gesture to her as he did the sarge.

"At ease," her voice was soft yet firm, "we gotta move it to the hangar, the Sergeant Major is waiting for us."

The two men looked at each other, to which Perez asked, "The Major?"

"Yes, he needs us in the hangar now."

The two men followed the woman and the Sergeant out of the room. The Cafeteria however was still very much in use by all the others inside. Busy bodies of people moved around as the whole area became more and more brimful. A small crowd began to form in the center of the room. Was not very large, only a few troopers, but they began to chant,

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" they clapped their hands clapping and fists waving. The single Marine in the center with red hair stood a bit taller than the rest of them drinking an energy drink can. They were strictly prohibited, and these troopers knew that and continued anyway.

A cafeteria standard onboard a UNSC vessel like this is teeming with soldiers during lunchtime. They all were in their patrol uniform and not fit for battle. The kitchen staff onboard rarely cared for prohibited materials, only where the Human Resources Department would intervene, or a drill sergeant. It was interesting enough but still set in place.

As the Marine finished the can he slammed it down on the table face up (it did not crack or break) and let out a loud burp, "That's you fuckn' do it, lads!"

The Marines cheered and laughed aloud at the sight of it. The Scottish Marine belly laughed out loud prancing in his victory. He laughed so hard he did not even notice why everyone went silent instantly. Sergeant Major Johnson himself was standing behind them, smirking but with a tone of intense discipline.

As he kept chuckling he questioned, "Why did ya go quiet?"

The Sergeant Major raised his eyebrow. To which now, the Marine noticed his predicament. Johnson simply smiled looking at the marine and then glancing over to the bottle on the table behind him.

"I should make you suck your shit for that one," he smirked.

"Yes Sergeant!" the Marine instantly saluted, "I am sorry Sergeant!"

"No, you're not you damn pissant," he looked around, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "You're lucky since we're short-staffed. But when we get back you're gonna be doing pushups 'til my arms get tired."

Seeing the shock in the Marines' eyes he turned back to the others, "Now move it, soldiers! To the hanger! Move! Move! Move! I wanted you there yesterday!"

Quickly their mindset shifted like a paradigm as they rushed to the hangar through the hallways of the ship at double-timed speeds. In the hangar itself, a few vehicles were being worked on by mechanics. Longswords sitting shiny and ready to be used, and troopers moving around and about in their tasks.

To the boot deck the squad of five marines loaded up their gear putting in their armor. New and shiny green UNSC green, fresh and ready. Off the weapon racks, they moved about equipping their ordinance. They did this all so fast and with haste it was easy to tell that they had practiced this many times.

By the time Johnson gently walked into the room with hands folded behind his back, they were all somewhat ready.

"Alright Marines! Listen up!" he grunted, "the Chief is filling a hard drop with the first platoon to secure a landing zone. We are to come in behind them and provide the reinforcements… the Covies ain't gonna know we are here so strike hard and fast."

Marines still listening began to gear up even more, now filling backpacks and loading their weapons. It did not take long until the Sergeant ambled over to the far side of the hangar onto a Pelican.

He waved to the troopers to which they were confused. They had never seen their Sergeant on the front lines before with them, he was usually with the second platoon, not their specific squad of the third platoon.

"What you standing around for?! Get on the damn pelican!" he hollered.

Onboard the pelican were McKenzie, Perez, Shyld, and Beauregard, already loaded and ready to go. Perez and Shyld immediately had faces of disinterest. Beauregard huffed in his way but still maintained a steady look due to his place and rank.

Almost immediately the other men coming on recognized the squad, and one of them retorted, "Oh look who it is."

"New XO's a medic? Aren't you fancy?" said another. One of them stared her up and down at her slightly curved nature in a provocative way.

A few catcalling and chuckling came amongst them before Shyld snapped back, "Oi! Can it, "

The marines' childish giggling added a bit to the pelican entrance. Beauregard did not even make eye contact with any of them, just stared into the wall disassociating himself from the whole situation. Of course, Johnson or Greo did not notice the mini squabble that just occurred and continued like nothing happened.

Sitting across from one another it was quite strange facing each other. Awkward was not even the right word to describe it. Working with them? Both despised each other so being in this state was odd enough.

Blazer Squad was known for its upfront and CQC (close-quarters combat) based tactics, and this was thanks to Sergeant Beauregard. A quiet and passive man with a quick and decisive thought process.

Whereas Staff Sergeant Greo, the head of Axel, was quite the opposite. The two would combat each other in their tactics now and then, and their squads have worked together in groups for the past two deployments fairly well even despite their tactical differences.

Staff Sergeant Greo was just recently promoted due to his operations on Earth, where his squad laid low and baited jackal snipers from afar in New Mombasa. This gave civilians extra attention and time to escape in the tunnels from the advancing Covenant forces. Six marks on the left side of his helmet etched in permanent marker from how many snipers his squad dropped.

Any well-trained marksman could take out an elite at range even if it had a long rifle (the elites are far more deadly at close to mid-ranged combat), but for a jackal, their precision was on par with the Legendary Spartans… to eliminate one was very much battle story worthy… but six? That's just simply unheard of, almost mythical.

Beauregard, with his stern and jagged eyebrows and gaze, took resentment from Greo's accomplishments. Always got promoted first, advanced first, and even obtained his squad first. It was a challenge, a game perhaps. The two had known each other from childhood. Beauregard took everything personally, and Greo did not. It was an interesting dynamic, and the rest of the troopers would see it all the time.

Each trooper reflected on the squad they were in and was very proud of it. As the last trooper got inside, the pelican doors shut from behind. One could hear the chambering of weapons and the ruffling of bags and equipment.

As the sealer latched behind the air rushed out from the back end of the door creating a tight vacuum inside the vessel. The Sergeant signaled to the pilot at the front, "Let's get a move on then," and took off.

It shook a little as the pelican rocked off the docking hatches, but the moment it left the main bay the void of space set in letting all rocking and shaking cease.

Each trooper double, no, triple-checked their things to make sure they had all their ordinance. Once they finished, they would check again. This endless cycle helped with nerves before an operation, to provide what little comfort it could.

However, McKenzie could not help but give sour glances to all the marines, regardless of their squads. It was strange and very different. Like she was secretly looking down on all of them. Of course, everyone could tell that glance. Anyone in the entire UNSC could tell that look from a mile away. The face of pure embodied betterment, the sheer concept of thinking someone is better than another just because they are. Narcissism at its finest.

"So," one of the marines from Axel chuckled turning to Mckenzie, "you're an ODST."

Just before she could even speak, the pelican pilot doors opened and Johnson came through with his usual sterned NCO gaze, "Sergeant," he turned to Beauregard, "it won't take long until we land, I want your squad on point."

"Sir?" mumbled the squad lead.

"The chief and first platoon are securing the LZ, we need to reinforce it," he said, "Axel is staying with me to do overhead reconnaissance of the area."

"Yes sir," nodded Greo.

It did not take long for the pelican to find the ground. Entering the strange halo rings atmosphere, the world itself was lush and green. Rock formations scattered beyond the eye could see, it was breathtaking. The ring stretched like a canvas to the sky forming a loop around it was strange compared to what they were used to. The sky was a deep blue, with hardly a cloud around, the scene was beautiful. Coming into view was one of the ruined buildings. Rubble and moss grew over the structure along with trees and plants growing out of them. The age of these structures was telling. Dead Covenant everywhere, blast burns too from their scorched weaponry. Dried and dark blood from the previous battle, and smoke smoldered up to the heavens.

In the center of the Chaos, stood a tall seven-foot tall figure. Light bounced off his green armor in a majestic fashion. The gold visor is bright and a beacon of hope. Faded mail already telling of his battle-worthy nature, it was him. The infamous Master Chief. Even the pilots of the pelican were dumbfounded to see him in front of their view as the pelican just hovered still. They were amazed.

Johnson, ignoring the Spartan, could see multiple rustic and decayed rock-shaped buildings in the center of a huge crater. The crater was filled with water so it formed a lake. The sun reflected off it creating a warm orange hue.

"I got a good view coming in, there's a big building in the middle of this island's lake," he spoke over the intercom.

"I saw it too, it looked like a temple… if I were a megalomaniac, and I'm not, that's where I'd be," said Cortana assuringly back through their speakers.

Instantly one of the marines from Axel Squad mumbled from the back, "Who was that? She sounds hot."

A couple of the Marines chuckled once more amongst the group, to which McKenzie was completely appalled. This banter was so unprofessional and seemed that neither Greo nor Beauregard cared (or looked to notice). This was absolutely unacceptable, her heart screamed at her to say something but her mind told her to stay focused. It was a war within and one that seemed to be tearing her apart.

The snickering stopped the moment The Sergeant Major entered back to the main cabin. A couple of coughs and fixations occurred as the Sergeant spoke loudly with a deep booming voice, "Blazer squad, you're up."

As the back door of the pelican cracked open light filled the room making everyone squint. Everyone in Blazer Squad got out of the pelican giving quick and sleazy looks to those in Axel Squad. Their rivalry was fairly childish, but comedic nonetheless (especially in the Marines which is all about 'brotherhood').

As their boots hit the ground they filled out and around. Taking a look at the surroundings the men glared at their surroundings taking in the sight of the building and rubble… and the smell, the awful smell of burning and melted meat from plasma damage.

As their pelican above went up into the sky a bit, another came to the side and dropped an M12 Warthog with all its bells and whistles. Thick and shiny fresh green paint. A fully loaded and mounted machine gun with blinders, fueled up to full, and shiny new wheels.

As the troopers approached the Warthog, the Master Chief came side by side with them. He stood easily a head and a half taller, eight inches broader in the shoulders. This was unbelievably intimidating.

"Shyld, McKenzie," said Sergeant Beauregard, "head with the Chief, me and Perez will stay here to round up the dead and fortify the LZ."

"Yes sir," said McKenzie.

"I call the gun!" exclaimed Shyld.

The Chief ambled passed him letting out a soft yet deep, "No."

"Oh uh… okay."

Shyld was bewildered by the Spartan. It was so simple yet so harsh. The Spartan hopped onto the back, and the entire hog tilted back a bit due to the weight of the massive metal man.

"Alright, I'll get the driver." McKenzie huffed climbing into the driver seat.

"This is so fucked," mumbled the other marine getting into the passenger.

Shifting the gears and turning on the ignition, McKenzie drove forward (but at first the back tires began to stall due to the weight of the Spartan, but the M12 Warthog is resilient so it did not last long).

They drove through a passage in the trees which was only a couple yards long. Almost immediately fire from purple lasers. A couple bounced off the glass, almost hitting them in the face.

"Oh shit!" Shyld ducked his head down underneath the glass.

The Spartan opened fire to the bushes with instant accuracy. The whirring and bullet spread from the Gatling gun was mighty. A few screams and yelps from aliens could be heard. McKenzie ignored them for the most part and drove forward through the mini-skirmish. It took only a few seconds before the Spartan spoke,

"They are eliminated."

"What the fuck was that?" asked Shyld still breathing heavily.

"Two Jackal snipers in the bushes."

A second more came as the Warthog turned the corner to a huge open valley. The crater from earlier, was as beautiful as could be. The yellow/orange color reflected from the nearby star onto the water was like nothing the two marines had ever seen. There were three buildings in the lake acting as their pillars. Casting their shadows against the sun. The main one had three triangle-shaped structures and had three beams of light going from the base seemingly up into space from the top tips. The others too seemingly had lights as well but they were dimmed and not as bright as the larger ones.

The forested and pushed area around was so awe-striking it was baffling to see from afar. To the right was one smaller strange rocky building of ancient and ruined design, separated by a huge canyon in the center. After a second (of course the Spartan did not even look whatsoever), Shyld gasped to himself,

"Woooah…." he chuckled, "Dear Sarge, kicking ass in outer space? Wish you were here."

Completely forgot that his communication microphone was still on, everyone could hear it if they had their communicator on. Even Johnson, who was on the other side of the canyon. Speaking back with a booming frustrated voice it pierced Shyld's soul,

"I heard that! Jackass!"

The descent of fear racked his heart as everyone who heard that was either dying of laughter or weeping for the wrath that would unfold upon him when he got back to the ship.

McKenzie did giggle to herself for the moment but continued driving. She was surprised to hear Cortana, the AI, speaking through their headset communicating to all three of them.

"The Covenant have control of the bridge at home, they'll try to bottle us up from this side of the gorge."

As the warthog approached the structure, they noticed three Eeo'pimu-Pattered Shade Turrets placed in front. Two at the front by the entrance and two topside between two rocky blocks making a set make-shift cover. Standardized Covenant ghosts to the right-hand side unoccupied but lay in side-by-side motion waiting for their deadly operators to return.

In the corner of his eye, Shyld gasped in terror on the far side of the canyon. A Zurdo-model Wraith with the infamous automated guns in blazing danger attached to the front. It could easily see the warthog and began to send huge car-sized plasma mortars in their direction. Elegantly and gracefully descending from the sky it rained down near them. As they came closer, the marine could not but yell out,

"Watch out Chief! Wraith's on the far side!"

McKenzie saw this and swerved the whole vehicle to the side. The gigantic blue missile began to rain down to the ground and scorched the grass with heavy plasma slams. Using the structure aw cover for a moment, there was a single moment of rest.

Until grunts of various colors, yellow, red, and white armor coatings came waddling out giggling and squabbling amongst themselves. The long corridor was decorated with moss and archaic value. Completely flabbergasted by the warthog, they squeaked and screamed pleading for life as the SII turned the cannon in their direction. Whirring up the gun for half a second before literal 10 MM rounds unloaded themselves at uncanny speeds. Six grunts were mauled in under four seconds with hesitation or mercy.

The gunshots were heard by everything around as if they opened a bee's nest. The ghosts unoccupied now had minor-class blue elites dashing to their cockpits. Jackals flooded out from the side entrances along with grunts and more elites.

"Man the turret," said the Spartan. The Chief jumped out of the car and fully sprinted towards the ghosts seeing their pilots trying to turn them on as fast as physically possible.

"Oh shit! Shit! Shit!" wailed Skyld hobbling out of the passenger and into the gunner. Once inside he pointed out and shouted, "Just drive! Drive!"

"What the fuck did you think I'm doing?" shouted McKenzie back.

Back tires spun in the dirt for a moment before the Warthog shot off like a rocket forward. The moment shot McKenzie back in her seat at roller-coaster momentum and Shyld himself almost fell off.

They both caught a grip and circled the backside of the structure. There were a couple of grunts and elites in defensive formations already firing blue and green plasma rounds in their direction.

Shyld cackled in excitement as he turned the gun and unleashed its fury on them. Bapping rounds ricocheted off the rocks and a few grunts were quickly slain. The Warthog was luckily able to tank the hits and neither of them received any damage. Shyld was very adjective and much more flimsy compared to the SII who just used that same gun only a minute prior.

Seeing the slight clear he took a slight breath (he held it the whole time), to relieve his aching lungs.

As the car rotated around to the other side, dirt began to spin around and spit into the side of the rocks, and on the side of a small boulder wall.

"Hold on!" McKenzie hollered.

As the car came around into direct view of a single grunt. It hobbled into the middle of the road less than a few yards away. It squealed as it attempted to flee. As the warthog darted easily at forty miles an hour. Both marines squinted for half a moment bracing the impact.

Ramming straight into the creature it hollered and wailed in pain as the wheels of the vehicle went over it like a glorified speed bump. They both turned back seeing the mangled corpse in the dusted wind.

Rotating quickly back to the front the warthog now drifted around the next corner of the old structure before seeing a magnificent sight. Both marines were dumbstruck by the Master Chief running a ghost at full speed into an elite major. Bones crunched and the body contorted and bent in atomically mutilated ways. A pile of grunt and elite bodies stacked around the Spartan mangled and bleeding from their corpses. Blue and purple blood mixed without any tinting. It created this sick sheen that seeped into the dirt and grass around.

The Chief was completely unscathed by any damage or even blood. Seeing the last of the aliens were dead, he glared around. The sun from behind reflected through the trees showing upon his armor glistening it in the light. He was the might and perseverance of humanity.

Now their battle car came to a stop. They looked at the Spartan before Shyld waved to him, "All clear Master Chief, should we enter the structure?"

"No, I will," he said sharply.

The two marines looked dumbstruck at one another. The Spartan, however, with dual-wielded UNSC grade SMGs, walked into the ancient building.

Inside the Spartan could see a long smooth hallway with moss growing in the cracks. The arcade was only a few yards long, turning into a huge control room. A large floating kiosk in the center with a window protruding into the floor showing the ground below. A mini-map of the Ring itself projecting onto the floor, as well as the columns holding the room up from each side. A window in the back displayed the gorge on the other side (where the tank was happily camped).

With all of this involved the room itself was fairly small for what it was worth.

Most noticeable, however, was that this room had four grunts and two elites already inside waiting for him. One Minor and an Ultra. The grunts immediately opened fire which caused the Chief with instinct to go back into the hallway. Plasma bapped the wall almost broadsiding the Spartan. Black scorch marks were left as remains of the alien's intent.

The Spartan for a moment grabbed a singular grenade off his waist. Pulling the ping he threw it into the room, bouncing a few times (one could hear the rippling of metal sounds). They still kept firing hoping to hit him from behind the wall. One of the elites hollered a phrase in Sangheili (the elite's native tongue) but it was too late.

A boom of fire engulfed such a small control room. Incineration occurred as the grunts were turned into a space steak. Their burned and flimsy husks flew into the air smacking into the walls leaving blue stains all over. Their screams echoed in the halls as they were butchered so fast.

The Minor elite charged ahead into the hallway despite his officers shouting of disapproval. Into the hallway he went pulling the trigger to his plasma rifle. It did hit the Chief, causing his armor to glow yellow with its hexagonal patterns. At such a close range the Spartan ducked low before sending a nasty sidekick into the leg. The elite wailed in pain easily having its bones crunched abnormally.

Spinning around to flow with the technique, it was complete carnage. Both SMGs aimed at their target, and the SII let loose both clips at close-quartered range. Taking all the damage the blue shields were peppered away in only a second. Bare armor and skin the bullets penetrated making it the death of a thousand bulleted cuts. The poor Sangheili did not have a breath to respond before its lifeless person released its last grunt of life before slamming into the side of the wall. Purple blood splooged over the wall coating it in its stain of violence.

Going into the room was the single elite Ultra. He had a slight glare of vengeance and vindication. Pulling out an energy sword from his hilt, he ignited it creating a white reflection in the whole room. It bounced off his armor giving it a holy glow. His eyes through the light however show devotion.

"Demon," it muttered in English. The tone to most men would send a horrible shred of fear up the spine. Hearing them, the butchered, the Covenant themselves speaking in English? Horrifying enough to kill them without mercy or hesitation… but to speak their language, this was something else.

But the Spartan was used to this kind of treatment, dropped the SMGs (since they were both empty in the magazines) and picked up a plasma pistol off the ground off one of the grunt's bodies.

He overcharged the pistol creating a huge glowing green ball at the front barrel of the pistol by holding the trigger. He stood there, and so did the elite, in a mini standoff of sorts. They rotated to the left around the center of the room, never breaking focus on one another.

The aura of the room was very thick with uncertainty and tension. These two rivals of sorts (at least in the eyes of the elite), glared each other down in a strange yet respectful manner.

The moment broke.

Lunging forward was the Ultra with a downward strike. The Spartan bobbed back, easily dodging the strike before releasing the trigger. A bolt of pure green plasma struck the chest of the Sangheili causing it to back stutter. Its shields were deactivated as this was an EMP of sorts.

That one singular moment of hesitation was all that Spartan 117 needed. A quick jab to the face and mandibles of the elite (easily breaking multiple teeth), followed by another strike to the stomach. Grip loosened on its sword giving the Spartan an even greater upper hand. He grabbed the blade and sliced the midsection in one fell swoop.

Blood and guts poured out of the soft belly as it was cleanly severed. It began to choke on its blood before it came to its knees in death falling over. The Master Chief looked around the room seeing all the dead aliens.

"Wasn't that a little overkill?" Cortana said with a clear sense of criticism.

"Maybe," he said, looking down at the blade before deactivating it. As the white energy dissipated the room turned to its natural color and hue. Putting the energy blade to his hilt, he turned back to the center of the room.

The floating control kiosk is completely undamaged by the battle that just happened (seemingly miraculously). From the knowledge he obtained from the previous Halo, he had a fair sense of what this was. The palm was placed in the center of the screen. A few beeps followed with the outside window showing a massive bridge above the building beginning to move. The controls worked, letting the bridge ahead shaped to the other side of the gorge once more. It came down making loud gear-shifting sounds as this machine came into motion. Now the two ends from each side are connected to form a platform easily able to be walked across.

But even still, the Chief could still see the enemy tank on the other side out the window. He grunted once to himself, which Cortana took to account. She knew him best, even when his expressions were wordless.

Speaking aloud to the local communicator, "Good the bridge is down… now about those wraiths…"

A moment of silence was broken by the Sergeant Major in response, "Roger that! Armor's on the way."

Outside the building, however, the two marines who were told to stay put were utterly baffled by the Sergeant's statement through the intercom.

A tank? Here? This just got so much more interesting.


Chapter three let's go! Hope y'all liked it. Had a fun time making this. And YES this does mirror the story of Halo 2 after Delta Halo, seen with the lines of dialogue. I wanted to give that story more depth and meaning to the Marines involved, more on that to come obviously.

BEFORE ANYONE ASKS YES IM FOCUSING ON THE MARINE SQUADS AS A WHOLE FIRST BEFORE THE INDIVIDUAL… CALLED GROUP DEVELOPMENT PEOPLE! hahahaha I just like this method of writing is all. I find it more interesting. Just me I guess hah.

Anywho, new chapter so I'm gonna take a few day's break. Will post soon don't worry. I'M SO excited for this one ngl. Got alor planned like I said.

And to the one comment by Emiboss, thanks dude means a lot, I hope you like this one my g!

I have so much planned for the next chapter. Please give me your ideas! I would love to hear them! As always I will be here!

Stay safe, stay healthy,

~1DL1NG KN1GHT