A9 to C9

(Alpha Nine to Copper Nine)

Chapter 4: Mickey II

Private First Class Michael 'Mickey' Crespo

Lance Corporal Laurie Holmes

60 Minutes After Drop

The city was as silent as the grave itself, the only sound the crunch of Holmes' boots as he hurried through the frozen streets, carrying Mickey over his shoulder. Mickey's arm, the wound from one of the Disassembly Drones slicing Mickey's arm off had been hastily bandaged, but the blood loss and painkillers had left him barely conscious. His head lolled against Holmes' back, and each step jostled him just enough to keep him on the edge of awareness.

"Stay with me, Mickey" Holmes muttered, his voice a mix of urgency and grim determination. He wasn't the type for comforting words, never had been, but he knew the importance of keeping Mickey awake. "You pass out on me, and I'm charging you extra." Mickey groaned weakly, still hanging on barely, the stinging cold and blood loss though began to lull him into his final bout of sleep. Muscles aching, Holmes continued into the blizzard, looking around for any sort of refuge from that...thing.

"You were part of the assault on the carrier, right?" Holmes asked, his tone a mix of casual interest and an effort to keep Mickey from drifting off. "Everyone hit hard when that carrier jumped. I guess Regret had a date more important than Earth." Mickey responded with a weak groan of acknowledgment. "Yeah... I was with Alpha Nine... Supposed to have... la—" His words faltered as a wave of pain surged through him, causing him to grit his teeth. "La... landed with everyone else... but... we changed direction."

Holmes paused for a moment, scanning the area ahead. "Taking the scenic route, I see." He tapped the side of his helmet, the VISR glitching briefly before highlighting a large building in the distance, a hospital, just beyond a nearby subway entrance. It wasn't much, but it was shelter. With any luck, that thing had lost interest in them.

He reached the hospital entrance, finding the double doors slightly ajar, and kicked them open the rest of the way with a swift boot. The lobby inside remained untouched by the chaos outside, though a light dusting of snow and ice had found its way onto the old tiled floors. Holmes carefully lowered Mickey to the ground, then quickly dashed across the room to shove the doors closed behind them. He wedged a chair and table against the double doors, enough to slow down any intruders, though he knew it wouldn't hold off competent hostiles for long.

Laying Mickey down behind a receptionist's desk, Holmes removed his helmet and set it aside. Despite the planet's violent climate, the atmosphere remained breathable, and the hospital's insulation provided some relief from the bitter cold, though Mickey's breath still fogged the set his backpack on the floor and rummaged through it, pulling out a small, gray canister with a nozzle resembling a fire extinguisher. He removed a pin from the top of the canister and raised the nozzle, then began to carefully unwind Mickey's bandages. As the wound was exposed to the stinging, frigid air, Mickey's nerves flared with fresh, searing pain. What began as a groan quickly escalated into suppressed screams, his body wracked with agony.

"Please... Please... Agh! Make it stop... Make it stop!" Mickey's breaths came in frantic, ragged gasps, his chest heaving with the effort. Holmes worked with swift precision, hands steady as he prepared a new batch of wrappings. He positioned the canister's nozzle just above the gaping wound, now slick with blood. Mickey, eyes wide and pupils dilated with pain, frantically raised his free arm. He bit down on his wrist, teeth sinking into the flesh as he shot a desperate, pleading look at Holmes, silent confirmation that he was ready. Ready as he'd ever be. With a practiced motion, Holmes pressed the lever on the canister. The white foam hissed as it erupted, spewing out in thick streams that quickly coated Mickey's torn flesh. The foam crawled across the wound, and Mickey's body tensed, muscles rigid as if every nerve ending had caught fire. He screamed, the sound muffled by the flesh of his own arm as he bit down harder, his jaw trembling with the effort to stay conscious.

The pain was sharp and searing, like a thousand tiny blades slicing into the wound, each one twisting with cruel precision. It felt as if fire ants were burrowing under his skin, spreading their venom with every bite. But as soon as the agony came, it began to recede, the sharp edges of pain dulling into a cool numbness that seeped into his flesh, the BioFoam doing its job. Holmes watched as the foam settled and hardened, filling the wound and sealing it completely.

"It was a clean cut," he muttered both to himself and Mickey, tossing the empty canister aside with a casual flick of his wrist. "Could have been worse. Just a flesh wound, really." As Holmes began to wrap the wound, the reality of the situation began to hit Mickey through the haze of painkillers. The corner of his mouth twitched, and a strained chuckle escaped him, the sound half a laugh, half a cough. He shook his head weakly, the irony not lost on him. "Y-you are a terrible doctor." Holmes shrugged, not missing a beat as he finished securing the bandages. "Good thing I'm not a doctor, then." He smirked under his helmet, a wry twist of his lips. "I actually wanted to study pathology. Get a real job. But here I am. Dare to dream, right?"

Suddenly, a loud impact reverberated through the hospital lobby, shaking the walls and sending a shower of snow cascading against the windows. Whatever had hit, it was close. Holmes instinctively ducked lower behind the receptionist's desk, peering carefully over the edge. Outside, the dust was beginning to settle, and through the thinning smog emerged a familiar, glowing yellow 'X', a sight that sent a chill down his spine. Both he and Mickey knew exactly what that meant.

Holmes didn't waste a second. He began shoving medical supplies into his bag with frantic speed. "That thing followed us," he muttered, more to himself than to Mickey. "It's right outside the hospital. Can you walk at all?" Mickey, gritting his teeth against the pain, reached for his helmet and slid it back on. With visible effort, he pushed himself up from the floor, swaying slightly as he found his balance. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his legs trembled under the strain, but after a moment of gathering his resolve, he managed to stand upright. He raised a shaky hand, offering Holmes a hesitant thumbs-up.

"Do you... do you think that radio tower will cut through whatever this blizzard is...?" Mickey's voice was strained as he braced himself against the desk, shuffling hurriedly towards one of the nearby hallways. Holmes quickly moved to his side, heaving Mickey's arm over his shoulder to support him.

"Depends on whether or not it's even functional," Holmes replied, his tone pragmatic as always. "Can't exactly say a global freeze works wonders for local radio. Even if it is working, I'm not sure there are any UNSC fleets anywhere near this glorified snowball. This place doesn't scream UNSC, but it doesn't feel like Innie territory either. Even they wouldn't live in a shithole like this."

Mickey shot a glance up at Holmes, his expression hidden behind his visor, but the sourness in his tone was clear. "I-I don't think the Insurrection lives like that."

Holmes grunted as he maneuvered Mickey around the corner of a T-junction in the hallway, casting a quick glance back towards the lobby. It was empty, no sign of movement. Maybe the robot hadn't spotted them...yet. As they continued, Holmes replayed Mickey's words in his head, a frown creasing his brow. "What? Your brother an Innie or something?"

Mickey fell silent, a response hanging in the air but never coming. Holmes clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he shifted his DMR off his back and into his arms. "You move forward and find one of the emergency exits. I'll stay here and keep that thing distracted. You get out, head for the tower, and keep your head low. I'll link back up with you there."

Mickey glanced down the hallway, then drew his M6/SOCOM from his belt, gripping it tightly in his one hand. "That thing's been on our butts every step of the way since we landed. What makes you think you can take it down?"

Holmes adjusted the sights on his DMR, checking the ammo with a grim determination. "I can't," he admitted, voice steady. "Unless you're volunteering to arm wrestle that thing to death. In my medical opinion, I'd advise against it on a better day. I don't care who you have to call. Just get someone down here." Mickey's affirmation came a few seconds later than Holmes would have liked, but he didn't press the issue. A silence between the two soldiers ensued . Finally, Mickey exhaled sharply, then darted down a random hallway, keeping his sidearm raised and ready.

Holmes quickly took up a firing position at the corner of the junction, eyes locked on the hallway leading to the lobby. If that robot was going to come from anywhere, it would be there. He activated his VISR, even though the emergency lights were still functional, casting an eerie red hue over everything. The crimson glow made the shadows deeper, more sinister, as Holmes scanned every corner through his scope, nerves on edge.

Suddenly, his motion tracker, which had been unreliable thanks to the planet's odd climate, blipped with movement. At the last possible second, he caught it, just a flicker on the edge of the screen. Holmes spun around, heart racing, and found himself face-to-face with the monstrous robot.

She was fast, too fast. Her claw was already raised, swinging down in a brutal arc aimed at his back. Holmes barely managed to sidestep, the metal slicing through the air with a deadly hiss. He readjusted his aim, firing shot after shot from his DMR at the drone's head. But her movements were erratic, and every shot missed its mark.

In a blur of motion, the drone slammed him into the nearby wall, her forearm pressing against his neck with crushing force, the wall cracked under the pressure leaving a pockmark where Holmes's helmet was. Holmes' breath hitched as his airway constricted, his vision narrowing to the cold, mechanical eyes staring back at him. He was pinned, feet dangling above the floor as he kicked frantically, struggling for air. The drone's gaze was unblinking, predatory even.

"I remember youuu~," the drone purred in a coy, unhinged tone. Holmes, still struggling to comprehend that the damn thing could even speak, felt a wave of confusion wash over him. Under different circumstances, he might have retorted with his usual sass, but choking and terrified out of his mind, his words failed him.

"You know, it's really rude to interrupt people while they're... TRYING—" The drone's voice shifted from playful to menacing in an instant. Holmes's body was suddenly wracked with a searing pain, far more intense than the suffocating pressure on his throat. The machine had driven one of its long, sharp claws into his side, twisting it to savor his agony.

"—TO TALK. TO PEOPLE," the machine finished, its tone dripping with cruel satisfaction. Holmes's scream echoed through the hallway as he fought to stay conscious, his vision blurring from the overwhelming pain. Desperation took hold as he frantically pawed at his hip holster, fingers trembling until they found the grip of his magnum. With a surge of adrenaline, he pulled it free and fired blindly at the robot's abdomen.

The shots struck true, the impact causing the robot to howl in mechanical agony. Her grip on Holmes faltered, and she dropped him to clutch at the bullet holes marring her chassis. Gasping for breath, Holmes felt the world spin around him, but he forced himself to stay upright. Summoning what little strength he had left, he tightened his grip on the magnum and lunged forward, slamming the weapon against the robot's main visor.

The force of the blow sent a jagged crack spiderwebbing across her screen. The machine let out another pained shriek, stumbling back from the sudden assault. Seizing the golden opportunity, Holmes bolted down the dimly lit hallway, his hand clamped over his bleeding side. He winced with every step, uncertain if the drone's attack had struck a vital organ. Behind him, the drone unfurled a submachine gun from one of her arms, and a barrage of bullets erupted, filling the hallway with a strobing effect of gunfire and flashing lights.

Holmes ducked low, his heart racing as he narrowly avoided the relentless hail of bullets that chewed up the walls and floor around him. The corridor seemed to shrink with each step, the danger intensifying with every near miss. He stumbled forward, desperation lending him speed despite the pain.

He reached a pair of double doors and yanked them open with a pained grunt. Without a moment's hesitation, he slammed the doors shut behind him, fingers fumbling as he struggled to engage the old, rusty locking mechanism. The ancient locks groaned in protest, but he managed to secure them with a final, grating click.

Breathing heavily, Holmes leaned against the door, the weight of his injuries pressing down on him. He could still hear the distant clatter of bullets and the drone's mechanical screeches through the thin barrier. The brief respite in the small, dimly lit room provided little solace, but it gave him a moment to regroup and assess his injuries.

After what felt like an eternity of navigating the confusing layout of the hospital, Mickey finally stumbled upon one of the emergency exits. As he approached, the sounds of distant gunfire and shouting from the floors above reached his ears. With his hand resting on the exit door, Mickey glanced upward one last time, trying to steel himself against the gnawing doubt in his mind. He grimaced, then threw the emergency doors open.

He found himself in a decorative courtyard at the back of the hospital. Beyond the scattered buildings, he could make out the radio tower in the distance. However, his relief was short-lived as he noticed another machine standing in the courtyard, a different model from the one that had been pursuing him and Holmes.

Reacting swiftly, Mickey ducked behind a pillar, trying to stay out of sight. The new drone looked similar to the one before but had a distinct appearance. It wore black, militaristic clothing and had its 'hair', if one could call it that, arranged in an oddly refined manner, with two pigtails and black bows. Great, so there were more of these killbots.

Oddly enough, the drone seemed to be engaged in a conversation with someone, its tone irate and somewhat haughty.

"- Can you be any more useless? We needed you over here and you're off playing around in some airport! Ugh! Forget it! V and I can handle it just fine without you. See you back at the pod. Or not. We'll just have to see."

The drone's voice dripped with frustration as it berated its unseen counterpart. As it began to turn away, Mickey quickly ducked behind the pillar once more, his heart racing. The drone muttered angrily to itself, "I don't know why we even bother with him. I just don't. Deadweight piece of scrap...ruining my perfect record...Won't get that perfect monthly report, wont even get that new, shiny nameplate for my desk. Keep it together J, just keep it together..." 'J' muttered to herself.

Mickey, gripping his SOCOM tightly, raised it cautiously, prepared for whatever might come next. His eyes stayed locked on the drone, ready to act at the slightest sign of detection.

"V, are you finished with your tantrum yet? We have more important tasks to focus on," J's voice crackled over the radio, her tone impatient. The sounds of loud screaming and relentless gunfire echoed in the background. J 'rolled' her digital eyes in response, a gesture that would have been exasperated if she were human. "I'll be right there..."

Before J could step into the building, the situation escalated. V smashed through a window above the courtyard, dragging Holmes along with her. Both were screaming, their voices a chaotic blend of terror and fury. Using her wings to control her descent, V dove toward the center of the courtyard, slamming Holmes into the concrete with brutal force. The impact sent a cloud of concrete dust and snow billowing into the air.

V stood over Holmes, panting heavily as she placed a hand on her cracked screen, her expression twisted in a mix of triumph and exhaustion. "Are you done now...?" J asked, her hands resting on her hips, clearly unimpressed.

V nodded, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. "Yeah. I got him."

J barely glanced at Holmes, already fiddling with a device on her wrist. "Good. The Liability's over by the airport. I'm sure he's found some way to screw things up, as usual. So let's get moving." She pointed off into the distance with her thumb, her mind clearly on the next task.

Meanwhile, V was busy lifting Holmes off the ground, his body limp but still clinging to life. Mickey, still hidden behind the pillar, held his breath, unaware of his comrade's fate.

J sighed, her annoyance palpable. "Why are you bringing that thing with you?" she asked, her voice tinged with disdain.

V shrugged nonchalantly. "I could probably hang him from one of the landing legs. Like a Christmas ornament or something. I could always drink his oil."

J folded her arms, the flicker of a holographic calendar appearing above her wrist. "It's July," she pointed out, her voice flat as the calendar displayed the date in stark digits. "And that's a human..." J pointed at the wound on Holmes's side, which was currently dripping into the ground, and on V, whom curiously tasted the dripping blood. "Oh...well. Huh. Well that's not good." J gave a disinterested shrug and a wave of her hand. "He isn't wearing a company transponder. So. ROE says we're fine. Probably some survivor or something...Its not our problem."

V shrugged in response. "Eh, well. I mean. Better to try new things, right? Not that I'm excited for it or anything. I've just...always wondered what humans tasted like, yknow? Pretty standard stuff?"

J tapped her metal foot, which wasn't a foot at all, more like just a...leg, a long stick with a flat end on it. And just gave a exhausted sigh. "Just-Just-Just do whatever, seriously. Lets just get to the airport before N screws something up again. If he hasn't already."

Before the two could leave, Mickey leaned out from behind his pillar, holding his breath. Just as the pair of murderbots turned to look at him, he fired a shot that took V's head off, shattering it into a mist of glass, metal, and broken circuits. V collapsed to the ground, dropping Holmes as her lifeless body crumpled.

Mickey quickly turned his aim toward J and fired off several shots. J, reacting with swift precision, deflected some of the bullets with her claw blade before sidestepping the rest. Unfurling her own submachine gun, she unleashed a hail of bullets toward Mickey.

Instinct kicked in as Mickey slammed himself against the exit doors and bolted back into the building, narrowly avoiding the barrage of gunfire. J began to pursue but hesitated, glancing back at V's collapsed form. She sighed in irritation before grabbing her ally's lifeless body and dragging it into the building, determined to give chase to Mickey while leaving Holmes behind in the courtyard.

Above the city, a glimmer of light appeared in the sky, quickly followed by a green, pill-shaped object plummeting down and smashing into the courtyard just a few feet away from Holmes. The impact jolted him awake, though he groaned in pain from the stab wound still leaking blood. Despite the discomfort, the sight of the pod ignited a spark of excitement within him.

Holmes struggled to his feet, adrenaline pushing him past the pain, and rushed over to the pod. He pried open the panel, hoping to find a radio, a chance to call for help. But as the panel fell away, what greeted him was a mix of disappointment and delight, no radio, but instead medical supplies, ammunition, and a SPNKr rocket launcher. Holmes chuckled, feeling a surge of satisfaction. He grabbed the rocket launcher, giving its twin barrels a test spin. Even through the haze of pain, the thought of giving one of those robots a taste of oblivion was invigorating.

As he rummaged through the supply drop, his eyes caught something unusual—a small chip lying within the pod. He picked it up, recognizing it immediately as an AI chip, the kind commonly used by the UNSC. "AI..." he muttered, glancing up at the sky as if expecting to see a UNSC frigate hovering above.

Hesitantly, Holmes inserted the AI chip into the back of his helmet. Almost immediately, a simplistic image appeared on his HUD—a spiky-looking blob with eyes and a mouth that resembled a jack-o-lantern. Holmes frowned and demanded, "AI? Identify yourself..." before grimacing and clutching his side. With his free hand,

"My AI Serial Number is GLE 9812-3. You may call me Galilee." A soft spoken, male's voice said under the usual filter most AIs spoke.

Holmes inspected the equipment laid out before him, his relief palpable when he found a fresh canister of BioFoam among the supplies. "Who sent you?" he asked, quickly checking the severity of his wound. Despite the pain, it wasn't as bad as it felt, a clean cut, much like Mickey's arm, unfortunately, he didn't have his Medical PDA to actually verify any internal damage.

Galilee hesitated for a moment before replying, "I was sent by the UNSC to assist—"

"Yes. You're UNSC. I got that. " Holmes interrupted, his voice tense. "What ship? What ship sent you here? What ship is in orbit around this planet? We need reinforcements. I have a wounded ODST in desperate need of medical assistance, and I'm not exactly in top shape either. Those machines are tearing us apart down here."

There was a pause as Galilee processed the inquiry, the delay far longer than Holmes was comfortable with. "My original tasking vessel was UNSC FFG-01, Forward Unto Dawn."

Holmes clenched his jaw as he prepped the BioFoam to seal his wound. "The Dawn? Part of what task force? Who else is here?"

Once again, Galilee hesitated, a silence that confirmed Holmes' suspicions. "It's a Dumb AI... I figured, cant even send us a smart one." he muttered under his breath, frustration mounting.

"No other UNSC vessel is present within this planet's orbit," Galilee finally responded. "I cannot elaborate due to restrictions on classified intelligence. Move towards this waypoint and await further orders, Lance Corporal Holmes." Holmes rolled his eyes. "I'm going to run under the assumption that you might be associated with ONI? What with how open you are about everything." Just then, a waypoint appeared in Holmes's VISR, right towards the radio tower in fact, but oddly enough it was underneath it. An arrow ran underneath the hospital and pointed towards the hospital in a sort of animated motion.

"The route you were taking is far too dangerous according to what little satellite coverage we have on this area. I have taken the liberty of rerouting you through the tunnel network that runs underneath this city. They should take you straight to your waypoint without any trouble." Holmes began to seal his wound with the BioFoam canister, wincing and gritting his teeth as he too could feel the ungodly pain associated with its usage, though its coagulant nature had saved a number of his patients in the past, he still wished that the UNSC could find a better formula for the stuff that didn't hurt like hell when applied.

"What about those machines?" Holmes vaguely remembered seeing Mickey in the courtyard a moment ago...before his memories snapped back to him and he realized that Mickey was being pursued by V and J, alone. "Damnit. Damnit!" Grabbing up the SPNKr launcher and whatever was left of the supply drop. Ensuring that his SOCOM was loaded, he moved towards the hospital doors.

"Hold on!" Galilee shouted, its voice raising to an unnatural tone for a Dumb AI. "I can assist you with the Disassembly Drones. One moment." Before Holmes could ask anymore questions. His helmet's visor flooded with random commands, a loud, pinging noise produced a ringing sound in Holmes's ears that made him cringe. After a few, tense moments, the sounds and the flood of commands stopped. Galilee's façade wasn't even visible in Holmes's helmet anymore. Just that waypoint, and Mickey's location within the hospital.

"Galilee? What did you just do?" Holmes inquired, still trying to get the ringing to stop. Galilee didn't respond nor indicate that he was even listening. Holmes tapped on the side of his helmet. "Galilee. Respond. That's an order. Christ..." Upon realizing that Galilee was inoperable, Holmes proceeded to open the hospital doors, venturing back in to link back up with Mickey and find out just what the hell was going on.

Mickey burst through a set of emergency doors and found himself standing on a snow covered balcony some few stories above the ground, giving him a perfect view of the parking lot he and Holmes managed to slog through earlier to find shelter. To his right was a crashed Pelican, still burning in some areas, how the two hadn't seen it on the way in, Mickey didn't really know. Though he chalked it up to the blizzard and his searing pain at the time. Taking up a defensive position nearby, Mickey kept his weapon drawn on the door. After a tense moment of silence, the door exploded open, and just before Mickey could pull the trigger, he saw Holmes round the corner, holding the SPNKr. Mickey exhaled and lowered his weapon.

"Geez man, I almost shot you! Are you okay?"

"I'm wounded. Mended it with BioFoam but I don't think its going to hold for long. Same with your arm. We need to get to that radio tower and get a distress signal out. I found a Dumb AI from a supply pod. It claims there are no UNSC ships in orbit but, how did It get here? I think its lying. It wants us to follow a waypoint into some tunnels under the city. Faced with very little options, I vote we listen to it."

Mickey listened to Holmes's briefing, glancing up into the sky whenever Holmes mentioned anything about UNSC ships. Holmes sent the waypoint over to Mickey's helmet, whom observed it himself and groaned.

"Nuts...Wait...where did you get that rocket launcher...?"

Holmes took up a position, looking at the door, before glancing at Mickey.

"It was in the same drop pod the AI came in. I don't know. Are you really going to reject a free rocket launcher in this situation?"

Before Mickey could respond, the door burst open again, this time, It was V and J. Whom were screaming, their 'faces' glitching out, sparks shooting from their bodies. They both stumbled about erratically, though still obviously hunting the pair of ODSTs. Mickey opened fire, so too did Holmes, launching a rocket towards V, fully intent on destroying both of the machines entirely.

Despite whatever was stunning her, V leapt into the air while the missile tracked her, above the parking lot, she performed a loop, the missile barely managing to keep up with her. Only to then dip downward and lead the missile straight towards both of them. Mickey and Holmes ducked for cover, the missile slammed into the balcony and detonated, completely collapsing that particular side of the hospital, covering the parking lot in a fog of smoke and snow. Heaving himself to his feet, Holmes prepared to fire another rocket, only for V to slice the SPNkr in half, the bisected half clattering to the ground and being partially buried in the snow. V followed it up with another slash that sent Holmes tumbling backwards, a large cut running through his chest armor, though somehow he wasn't wounded. Closing in on him, twitching and glitching out violently. V emitted a glitchy, almost eldritch sounding laugh, raising her claw up to finish Holmes off. Mickey finally managing to get up after the explosion, dashed towards V and tackled her to the ground. Though at that very moment, another pulse of energy seemed to wash over the area, much like the one Holmes saw moments ago from Galilee, both V and J's screens switched off and the two drones went limp. Mickey pushed himself off of V and clattered to the ground, staring up at the sky and panting. Realizing the golden opportunity presented to them, Holmes rushed over and dragged Mickey to his feet.

"Leaving now. We need to leave now! Go!"

Shoving Mickey back towards the door, Holmes followed suit and the two disappeared back into the hospital once more. Following the waypoint set by Galilee, the two were lead to an underground portion of the hospital, mostly surrounded by old supplies, clothing, discarded beds. The waypoint, however lead them to the opening of a tunnel that seemed to break away from the hospital's basement itself. Labyrinthine in nature. With most of their current bridges burnt behind him, the only place left to go seemed to be forward...

To be continued...