UNSC Night Of Lunar Reckoning (IC Shipside) REBOOT!

[Galdius]

Having recently fired a shotgun blast into the crowd with a fair bit of effect, Charlotte Racked back her M90 aggressively and rapidly, ejecting a spent shell casing, and chambering a brand new load, ready to send more pellets flying into the horde. As she went to fire another shot, a 40 mike mike from Petrovic's M319 grenade launcher caught her eye as it soared into the crowd of enemies mere meters away, landing right in the middle of them. The heat from the blast wave hit Charlotte hard with a sense of relief more than anything else as the chemical reaction from the grenades temporary blinded her helmets night vision as it flashed the room in a bright yellow light. Nothing could possibly withstand the blast, she had seen the fragmentation 40mm grenades brutally tear grunts limbs off, even seen one be turned into near giblets with a direct hit from a HE grenade. She couldn't have been more wrong. As the her eyes readjusted themselves, she was met with the horrific and haunting realization that the human forms were still coming right at them. It had worked wonders on the parasitic blobs, turning them into a thick paste like sludge, but the mutated humans just got right back up, most of them completely unharmed, some however had limbs near torn right off by red hot shrapnel that had been propelled through the air, but they were quickly replaced by more coming around the corners at the end of the corridor. "Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!" She shouted in a panic, still broadcasting over the net, unable to even comprehend the fact that the weaponry they were using was having next to no effect on the enemy, they were going to die if they didn't get moving. On that thought, the second grenade fired out of the Petrovic grenade launcher, this time bouncing off the wall before detonating, sending thick shrapnel shards right into them, which had almost nil effect. The blast seemed to be more effective, knocking a few of them down before they quickly got right back up again, completely unfazed by the explosion that had hit them. Thankfully, Petrovic wasted no time trying to fire off another shot and rather pushed into the stairwell.

"Clear down!"

Their exit from the corridor was now open, they just had to go through it. Before Charlotte could peel off into the doorway and lock it behind them, the sound of four high caliber rounds in the enclosed space almost deafened her. She turned to spot one of the one of the monstrosities lying ontop of Akiyama, with four massive chunks torn out of its back, clearly dead from the trauma it had endured. "Fuck! Man down, Akiyama's down!" the words that she always brought on a feeling of regret and depression, she hated losing people, especially her own. In this occation however, it was looking like she would be forced to make the hard decision. Despite being mere spitting distance, the monsters were mere feet away from herself in the doorway if she risked going out there to get her, she and Petrovic could very much meet a horrid fate, hell, she wasn't even sure if she was alive, for all she knew those rifle shots had been her last. Her survival instinct was telling her to abandon her ODST, to leave her to her faint and fight another day, hell, her own survival depended on it. But she would never be able to live with herself in doing so, it went against her every moral fiber in her body was against it, no matter what faced her, she would never abandon her troops, she would rather die along side them than leave one behind just to live out a few hours more. She'd be damned if she was about to give up on her now.

No.

Man.

Left.

behind.

"Arrgh fuck, Cover me!!" She spat, charging out from the temporary safety of the doorway and back into the zone of death that was the corridor, her shotgun raised toward's the crowd of hideous creatures as they all screeched in an in human fusion, likely begging for their death or hers. Not waiting to become chow, she didn't hesitate for even a second, using her sling to better stabilize her suppressing fire, she fired her first shot, the recoil send the weapon upwards, the close cluster of pellets landing dead center into a humanoid monster that lunged right towards her, knocking the bastard right off its feet and back into two more, sending them tumbling back ever so slightly, luckily buying her a few precious mil seconds of time. racking back the pump, ejecting the shell, Charlotte turned her attention back over to her downed comrade and the decomposing monster that lay on top of her. with one firm kick, she pushed the corpse off the soldier, she wanted to make sure she was alive but she didn't have a second to spare, her own life was on the clock. Grabbing the handle which rested on the back of the ODST's plate armor for such occasions and started dragging her sorry ass into the doorway of the stairway more and more closed in. She could see them in full view now, each and every one right down to the wounds that they had inflicted on them, the particular tinge of the decomposing skin and the horrid mutations that the parasitic entity had bestowed on them. An image now burned into her brain, something likely to give her nightmares for the rest of her adult life.

Letting go of her comrade, she quickly attempted to grab hold of the door, hoping that these things didn't know how to operate them, only to be blocked by one of those things now standing in the doorway. this one in particular had womanly features, although the parasitic growths sprouting out of her chest made that almost in distinguishable, her face was mangled to all hell by a pieces of shrapnel and locked in an permanent expression of pain, her left arm clutched onto a rifle of some kind and her right arm bore a large claw like growth sprouting from the wrist. Charlotte recoiled back, falling over and hitting the floor hard in a mixture of instinct and fear as the thing raised its arm to strike. She tumbled around for her slung shotgun, grabbing onto the pistol grip and rolling to the left, onto her comrade as the things claw was brought down with some force, landing on her right, missing her by mere inches. before it could make another strike, the barrel of the shotgun was pressed right up against chest of the attack and with one hand, she pulled the trigger, the blast sending it reeling backwards out of the doorway as the shotgun kicked back, the force of the recoil was sent back right into her wrists, almost shattering them. Grabbing hold of the pump, she racked it back, loading another shell as she quickly fired again, repeating the process as she climbed to her feet, laying down a suppressing fire as she attempted to shut the door. "Give me a fucking hand!" She screamed, trying with all her might to pull it shut as more quickly moved towards the doorway, attempting to get in.

[Cymrea]

Captain Owainn Archer
ONI Facility - Sigma Pertonus III
Hangars

+++Oh shit! Contact front!+++

That was Friedrich, broadcasting openly on the comms, fear making her voice shrill. Whatever it was on the base with them, it had found his ODSTs.

+++Mein gott! Töte sie! Töte sie!+++ The sound of free fire came chattering over the link, as did a dissonant chorus of inhuman screeching; it chilled Owainn’s blood. Almost as unnerving was Friedrich’s continued gibbering in her native German. He had no idea what she was saying, but the effort to keep panic from taking over was audible in her tremulous tones. Owainn heard a bass pounding in the background, like a nightmare hammering to get out. Or – worse yet – in.

+++The stairway! Move now!+++ Friedrich screamed at her marines. Her heavy breathing and indistinct shouts in the background came through on the comms, punctuated by the roaring of shotguns and assault rifles firing. More inhuman shrieks.

+++Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!+++ The panic in Friedrich’s voice was rising. Owainn was transfixed for the moment, his mind racing to devise a response. These were ODSTs, battle-hardened and seasoned veterans that had faced the overwhelming numbers of the Covenant, time and again dropping from miles up – feet first into hell – and landing in the thick of combat, resolutely defying the prospect of their own death to give humanity every possible chance for survival. But whatever it was out there in the dank corridors of this station, it had his Helljumpers running scared.

What the fuck could do that?!

He could just make out someone yelling to cover down before a series of deafening blasts pounded into his ears. As that was fading, the seemingly inevitable words followed. Man down.

+++Arrgh, fuck! Cover me!+++ Friedrich shouted. Her voice was much steadier now, galvanised by the need to secure the casualty under her command.

Owainn scanned the station layout on his HUD. Whatever the nightmare contact was, elements of it were trying to flank Friedrich’s team. He felt the burning need to assist, to lend whatever firepower he could to get his objectives won and his marines home safe. Glancing over at the guard posts on the north and south hatchways, he hit on a plan.

He commed Winter. “Triple time, LT! When you get to the hangars, cover the south post and augment north. I’m taking the fire teams from south and moving to reinforce Friedrich!”

Owainn motioned a follow-me to the command squad, four of them in all, and double-timed to the south guard post. “All you marines on me, we’re going to lend a hand!” To their great credit – they, too, had heard Friedrich’s transmissions – they hesitated not at all, but instead got ready to move out.

Passing through the barricade and trusting his back to Winter, he led his impromptu platoon into the darkness.

[Ubaria]

"Fuck! Man down, Akiyama's down!"

No.

It couldn't end like this, not now, not here. Humanity had a war to fight and he wasn't about to let some ONI freakhouse become his final tomb, him nor his team.

"Arrgh fuck, Cover me!!"

Petrovic risked a glance back to see the figure of Friedrich slip back through the doorway, back towards those things that were possessed with the hate of the devil himself, back into the corridor that was now probably swarming with decrepit creatures. A nagging voice told him to run ahead, that the two up top were as good as dead and that going back up to save them would only invite them to join the ranks of the shambling corpses that were once men and women. The voice probably lingered in every human, a survival instinct in its most prime state. The debate inside his head had unearthed past experiences that he really tried to keep buried and along with it a feeling that he hand't felt for a long time, a somewhat suppressed fear had turned to anger, there was no way in hell itself they were about to die on this station, no less be taken and transformed into a shambling mess of a being.

A scowl passed over his face, albeit hidden from view from the goried and polarized visor of the ODST Battle Helmet, storming back up the staircase with a swift change of weaponry, the right hand slinging the Grenade Launcher into its magnetic lock and the other drawing an SMG from the hip and with a brief lookover, was still battle ready. At the crest of the stairs were Friedrich, struggling with the door and Akiyama in tow somehow still alive and kicking.

"Give me a fucking hand!" Friedrich yelled with a significantly pained voice, mixed with a heavy panting. Marco intended to do just that with an added boot, it was driven straight into the gut of the first decaying fungal monster trying to get it through the door, carrying most of Marco's body and armor weight straight into a focused point in its center of gravity which sent it tumbling on over backwards, following this came half a magazine of M443 Caseless straight into what he could only assume was the face, evaporating it all over the floor, the body violently twitching and convulsing as it took its last breaths. The other hand now free he used it to drag the door shut, a couple of limbs caught in the heavy metal door were wrenched off with a sickening snapping sound. However there was no time for rest, the door probably wouldn't hold another couple of minutes and the sound may have attracted more from the floors below.

"We need to move quickly, for i lieutenant, don't intend on this ONI house of horrors becoming by grave, do you?" Asked Marco with a rhetorical question for he damn well knew the answer already. The staircase was still clear when Marco peeked over the edge down into the horrid depths below, the VISR managing to scrub the darkness away revealing another empty bloodied corridor, no movement as of yet.

"Permission to press on ahead ma'm? Give you chance to get Akiyama on her feet. We can't get boxed in here" Marco requested, glancing up at the LT from his lower footing down a dozen or so steps, awaiting an answer.

[Beiarusia]

LCp Aiko Akiyama // Sigma Pertonus III, ONI Station, Corridors

Ai was, despite the stacked odds against her, and thanks in large part to the actions of Friedrich, still alive. She had since managed herself into a sitting position, her grip still held firmly to the grip of the SRS-99. There had been little she could do to aid the First Lieutenant but Petrovich had intervened. They were safe… for now.

The wounded ODST tried her leg: there was a deep set pain but nothing too dreadful. Her ankle had twisted in the melee, not broken but walking would be hell for the most part. Ai took a moment to compose herself, trying, and failing for the most part, to push aside the horrors that she had just witnessed. The putrid bodies and twisted faces…. She distanced herself from those things. They were no longer human. She couldn’t afford to hesitate like she had. She had nearly been killed. She had nearly gotten the others killed. Ai couldn’t bear to handle such trauma again, losing her squadmates. Not after Atlas.

“Permission to press ahead, ma’am?” requested Petrovich as he approached the First Lieutenant. “Give you a chance to get Akiyama on her feet. We can’t get boxed in here.”

“No, we can’t,” Ai stated suddenly, pushing herself up from the ground with the aid of the heavy rifle. She put weight on her injured leg, ignoring the pain that shot upwards from what she considered a negligible wound. Still, she leaned on the SRS for just a moment longer. Ai continued, “Going back isn’t an option. Not with those bastards waiting for us. I hope you have a plan cause none of mine seem all too appealing.”

[Dernland]

Connor leaned against the wall of the alcove. The mystery fluid reeked, but he didn't care. The thing he had crushed pulsed as if it had a heartbeat, or if it was breathing. The edges of his vision began to blur. Connor shook his head violently, trying to clear the fuzziness. "Michaels, you sure you're fine? It doesn't burn your skin, or anything? It smells nasty, almost acidic." He heard the Lieutenant ask, but the voice seemed as if it was calling from the other end of the station. "I'm ... I'm fine sir." Connor didn't like lying. A simple code changed his red status light to green, hopefully before anyone noticed. He read through the medical report on his HUD. Minor Bleeding : Abdomen, WARNING! NEUROTOXINS DETECTED! Connor blinked several times trying to clear the blurriness that was assaulting his senses.

Connor refused the Winter's offer to take point again. He didn't want everyone to see him stumbling around; especially the Doc, she might stop everyone to see what was wrong. The conga line of marines finally got moving again once everyone had a chance to inspect the smashed organism. Connor just shambled along with the rest. He tried to maintain a focus on the helmet in front of him. It read "PFC Winter". Connor could swear he knew that name from somewhere, he just couldn't place it. His arms felt unnaturally heavy. Looking down, Connor discovered that he was holding a large piece of metal with glowing panels on it. When did I pick this up? He thought sluggishly. What does it do?

The person in front of Connor stopped and he followed suit. A fuzzy figure pointed at Connor and a nearby marine and shouted, "You two! Watch the fucking east hallway! Anything moves you shoot that motherfucker." Connor did not know who this man was, or why he should listen to him. He was also unsure what 'shoot that motherfucker' meant. What was a 'motherfucker' and why should Connor shoot him or it? AND WHAT DID SHOOT MEAN? Nevertheless, he concluded that this was sound advice to follow and did as he was told.

Connor crouched in what was apparently the east hallway. He had finally discovered the proper way to hold the 'shooter' in his hands. The marine had several shiny metal bits, but Connor decided that it was not a good idea to ask about it. He wasn't sure why, he just had a feeling. Connor's contemplation was interrupted when he saw a creature in the shadow of the hall next to him. It's eyes were red and it had massive claws. Connor let out a cry and swung his 'shooter' at the silhouette, but the only sound was metal screeching on metal as he beat the wall with the makeshift club. In the corner of his eye he saw many more creatures leaping at him. Connor couldn't react fast enough and they were on him. They tore at his armor and flesh. He screamed at the pain, waving his arms at the empty air around him.

[SaintB]

Sigma Pertonus III Stairwell
Ensign Francis "Limbo" Walker

Lieutenant Winters acquiesced to allowing him to follow along with the marines but he seemed to think Francis was just another dumb Navy POG who didn't know his asshole from the hole in the floor but unlike a certain pink haired medical officer he knew better than to call him out on it at this time, besides he was a Navy POG, just not a dumb one, "I know enough not to step on any toes. You guys got any extra ammo I can carry it and lighten the load a bit."

Francis fell to the middle where he was the least likely to cause any damage or a distraction and began to tour the carnival of horrors that was the space station. The whole place was a mess of blood and fluids both covenant and human but no bodies. In various places there were shell casings and discarded weapons but the corpses remained absent which gave Francis a very uneasy feeling. While the Marines did their sweep and clear of each room they encountered in the hallway he hung back and stayed out of the way; if shit hit the fan he would be another rifle in the fight but he wasn't trained in all of this stuff and knew to stay out of it and started questioning why he even thought to come with them in the first place, but he was here now and damned if he was going to walk all the way back to the hangars in this shit.

He kept his yap shut and his gun at the low ready as they picked their way down the hall through the blood and whatever it is elites have in their veins with his eyes forward down the hallway peering into the darkness with the virtual night vision for a sign of anything at all. More than once he thought he saw movement or a shimmer but it must have all been in his head because every time he raised his weapon and prepared to call out everything was still and silent again. He followed the jarheads to the stairwell and thought he saw something moving in the darkness but then a light reflected off it and overloaded the damn night vision for a moment leaving him staring into a white nothingness. Why did they include such shitty night vision in these things? Whatever it was (if anything) was gone now and replaced by an empty staircase with some kind of makeshift barricade blocking access to the fifth floor, "What the hell happened here?" he wondered aloud.

Lt. Winters started to check his datapad for an alternate route to their destination and started rambling off instructions to one of the marines but since it didn't involve him yet Francis took the opportunity to do a spot check for whatever it was he could swear he had seen earlier. It must have been some kind of genetically modified animal, it had to have been about the same size as a human head and moved quickly and that was all Walker had been able to see of it before being flashed but now while the grunts had their flashlights shining in static directions and were busy listening to their CO he had the perfect chance to peer into the dark places and search again from where he stood but he wouldn't go wandering away from the highly trained and heavily armed killers, better to stick in one place. From some kind of duct above their heads a scraping sound was heard and some kind of shuffle or scuttling noise that sounded... wet...

"Shit! Did any of you hear that?" the Lieutenant asked with an alarmed voice.

"I heard it alright!" Limbo answered him and raised his weapon into the firing position with the stock pressed firmly against the front of his collar and shoulder pointed at the duct but it soon went silent.

He was about the lower it again and breath a sigh of relief but then over the comm unit he heard all hell break loose from where the ODSTs were supposed to be... Then from somewhere behind there was a cry of pain and panic! Ensign Walker wheeled around and aimed his weapon in the direction of the shouting only to see one of the marines being mobbed by... nothing... at... all... He felt like a jackass pointing a weapon at him but by the way he was panicking and flailing about he would feel like even more of one if he stopped especially since he had a loaded weapon in hand and might start shooting it and putting everyone in danger. He doubted he would be able to pull the trigger though even if the man started shooting directly at him let alone randomly - God damn his soft heart.

[Aquesta]

The marines progressed down the hallway in single-row fashion, their flashlights from their rifles and helmets illuminating the blood-soaked rooms and hallways. O'Donnell was situated behind SSgt. Warren. O'Donnell was a little bit baffled when the pilot was allowed to join the squad, just seemed like another liability to O'Donnell. But it wasn't his place to question superiors so he stayed silent.

The platoon continued to search the station without any surprises until PFC. Michaels slipped and fell onto an organism of some kind. It released a disgusting odor, he scrunched up his nose underneath his balaclava as the stench reached him. O'Donnell was skeptical that Michaels was okay but again kept his mouth shut.

Eventually the squad reached an impromptu barricade and O'Donnell cursed under his breath in frustration. He just wanted to get this mission over with, he was getting more and more scared and agitated as the mission progressed. He quickly aimed his battle rifle at the roof after he heard some scraping.

"Shit! Did any of you hear that?"

O'Donnell responded with a quiet "Yes sir" and lowered his rifle again, realizing that whatever had made that sound wasn't there anymore. Then the comm unit started to scream into his ear. He recognized that voice it was that ODST Friedrich. She was a veteran of numerous battles with the covies and now she was clearly almost petrified. Anything that could make an ODST that frightened wasn't good for any UNSC personal.

It only got worse as he heard Michaels cry out in pain. He was going bonkers, smashing his rifle against the wall and waving his arms every which way, that organism he crushed must have messed with his head. O'Donnell advanced slowly towards him, his rifle aimed at Michaels centre mass, not wanting to take any chances. He kept his eyes fixed on Michaels but barked out a question.

"Orders sir?"

[Galdius]

A minute to breath.

A minute to god damn breath.

Finally.

Backed up against the wall, all Charlotte could do was breath as she attempted to compose herself to the unbelievable and horrifying situation that surrounded her and her troops. Those things outside of the thick steel door where once the crew aboard this space station, but something had turned them into an unholy abomination with only one directive, seemingly to kill and infect anyone that wasn't one of them, to spread whatever affliction it was that they had onto the next living thing, and they had just blindly wandered into their den, completely unaware of what awaited for them in the dark, the idea of those things not even being considered a reality in her mind. It was all bearing down hard on her sanity, almost like she had already cracked, perhaps this was one long, nightmare, signifying a fear of normality? to become like everyone else? She never did well outside in a normal life, the difficulties of a adjusting back into the civilian life style was hard. Or perhaps she had finally broken down and was starting to hallucinate, she had heard of it before, soldiers having a total mental break before ending up killing friendlies thinking they were covenant of insurgents. But soon, a sinking feeling began to set in as the full realization hit here. This wasn't a nightmare nor a hallucination. This was reality. Her thoughts quickly moved over to the mission, as she considered about the possibility of ONI knowing what was on board, anger began to flow. Those bastards knew fine well what was going on. It wasn't the first time those bastards had sent people into horrible situations before completely blind, hell, it had happened to her before during her extremely short time within a ONI section. The possibility of them not knowing about the parasitic entities outside was there however, but Charlotte was totally adamant that they did in fact know of what was going on, if not the cuase of it somehow, likely dabbling in things they didn't understand.

The slowly ascending pounding at the door quickly caused Charlotte to snap back into an attentive state. Her hands clutching onto her M5AB rifle, her weapon darted up towards the door, startled by the noise at the door, in prime position to blast the monsters behind it, only for her to realize that her weapon was in fact, empty. Hitting the magazine ejection button, she let the now empty magazine fall to the deck as she removed a fresh one from her webbing, slamming it into position before realizing the bolt, chambering a round, all in one swift movement. although it wasn't smooth, as her hands where trembling uncontrollably. A quick glance around make her realize that Petrovic and a wounded Akiyama where looking towards her, a look that she knew well even when clad in ODST helmets. It was the look of what do we do next, after all she was the commanding officer. Unfortunately, she had been staring down at the floor for what must have been minutes while everyone else was talking, completely losing track of everything around her as she slipped into a daydreaming like state. She was losing it after all.

Gotta get a grip.

"We've got to keep moving.." She spoke, her voice sounding almost weak as she did her best to compose herself, taking one long and deep inhalation of the space stations oxygen. "That doors not going to hold them, so if we don't get out of here, we are fucking toast, Akiyama, can you move quickly?" She asked, praying that the answer was yes, the last thing she wanted was a comrade with a leg wound slowing her down, not that she would even consider leaving her behind, she wouldn't have dragged her sorry ass to safety otherwise. At this rate, she would carry her if she had too, but the last thing she wanted right now was two ODST's being out of the fight that stood before them, she wasn't sure if they could handle another onslaught with just one gun to fight them off with. Her squad was the only ones outside of the hanger from what she could gather from the last comm message, which meant they would be the ones that would have to go get the data-core. She didn't like it one bit, but falling back wasn't an option either, as the hangers would likely be locked down with the incoming threat of those horrific things. "We'll keep moving toward the datacore, I'll have command plot us a route, Petrovic, you're on point." She informed them, ready for the hostility that would likely come from her team, she would rather fall back, but that seemed impossible right now. "Command, this is Friedrich." She spoke flatly over direct communications, hoping to reach the commanding officers on board the luna directly, her voice drained of energy from the mental and physical onslaught that had faced them in that corridor. "Have all units close the hanger doors and fall back, don't come out for us." She had trouble saying those words, she wanted the fucking Calvary to come and rescue them from the dark beasts, but from the ridiculous amount of damage those things took, they would likely suffer a dark and gruesome fate. "It'll do more harm than good, we'll continue on route to the data-core, requesting a route from the southeast stairwell."

[Felkesjud]

ONI Asteroid Facility, 'Northern' Hallways
2nd Lt. Wilhelm Winter

'The walls are alive . . .' or so Wilhelm thought. There was indeed something living on this space rock, that much he knew for sure. Who or what that was, he had no clue. Covenant. A new breed perhaps? This sure as hell wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. No known Covenant operated on these principles. Or was it some ONI experiment, far from the prying eyes of the rest of humanity? He couldn't answer that question--not now at least. Wilhelm didn't have the time to focus on such a pointless thought. He had to make sure they completed the mission. While he was giving the thought of which path to take more consideration, to his right Warren spoke up. "L.T.? What you asked me earlier? It's got me thinking . . . most spec op Elites don't leave such a fuckin' mess. Maybe they were new? . . . No, can't be. . . . Fuck, this is what has got me on edge. I can't figure out just what the fuck happened." Wilhelm stopped; his platoon sergeant was right. He felt like recanting his previous statement, for this certainly was not the operating procedures of spec ops Elites. Near the beginning of his career as a marine, he had encountered them. Only about half his platoon survived the fight with the small team of Elites, and he didn't remember too much. Most of it, looking back now, was a blur. But, what he did remember was that Warren was dead-on the mark. Elites, least of all spec ops, weren't this sloppy.

Wilhelm must spent more time thinking than he thought. Before he knew it, his second-in-command was issuing orders. "Marines! Prepare to defend yourselves! . . . Sir, we should probably have a few Marines go back and watch the staircase to make sure our egress route. Worst case scenario is we get cut off from the rest of the company and get wiped out. Don't want that happening, now do we?" Wilhelm prepped his weapons and nodded his head. "Good idea, that would screw up my dinner plans," he joked. Maybe now wasn't the time for gallows humour. Maybe it was. Staring down the east hallway, all Wilhelm knew was that the situation aboard this station was progressively becoming more and more of the stuff of nightmares. "Alright, Fireteam Charlie," Lt. Winter directed the two surviving members from the pelican crash, "go back down the stairs and cover each other's backs, as well as ours. Cpl. Koski, I'm going to borrow two of your men. Jones and Wickers. You two stay here and cover our escape hatch. When second squad moves up, tell them to leave behind two others, and make your way to our position." Now that the orders were given, unfortunately reducing 1st Squad down to a mere nine marines, the unit still had to decide which path to take to move up to the fifth floor. Since SSgt. Warren had yet to come to a decision, Wilhelm made one instead. "Okay, we're going 'East.' Check your wea--" the sound of the radio went off in his helmet. What was it now? "Winter: fall back to the beachhead immediately. I say again, fall back to the beachhead right fucking now.” Apparently, shit was hitting the fan. Their previous orders of searching the rock for survivors of the Covenant assault were being pulled back, being replaced with a simple 'get your asses outta' there' from command. The new turn of events sure as hell made his job easier--no needing to split the already small squad down into smaller teams. "Copy, Capt. Archer, we're en route. ETA two minutes." Wilhelm was turning around to address his squad when the marine who had been on-point and fell atop the strange organism . . . started totally loosing it. The man was whacking the wall with his rifle, and a blood-curling scream escaped his lips as if something was attacking him.

Before he could react, the pilot was aiming his MA5 at the soldier. Wilhelm leaped to attention and placed his hand on the barrel of Ensign Walker's weapon. "No, don't shoot." Everyone's eyes were now drawn to the man who was being assaulted by invisible creatures. What the hell was going on? His screams filled the hallways as he suffered whatever side-effects the viscous ooze was causing. "Orders, sir?" O'Donnel asked him. Wilhelm wanted to tell them to try reasoning with Michaels, but there was no telling what the private, obviously deranged, would do in retaliation . . . or what he would see when he looked at his comrades. He wouldn't wait for Michaels to accidentally shoot one of his men, something that seemed inevitable in his state. "Keep watching the hallways," he told Cpl. O'Donnel. Wilhelm instinctively set down his gun and rushed forward, crashing into the private and throwing him into the wall. Before the dazed, confused, and hallucinating soldier could react, Wilhelm decked the marine, throwing all his weight behind the fist that delivered the blow. None of the men had handcuffs, so they'd have to simple drag Michaels back to the hangar. Wilhelm stood up and addressed the unit. "We're headed back to the hangar, one of you handle Michaels."

Ripping the marine's rifle from his hands, Wilhelm activated his comms. "2nd and 3rd squads, we got the call to head back to the hangar. How copy?" Both sent a clear 'good copy,' in response. But, mere moments later, he heard 3rd squad's leader phone-in. "Wait, I think I just head something. Wha-what are those things? Kepler, back awa--holy fuck! KEPLER!" Simultaneously, he heard the distressed calls of the ODSTs from the southern halls as they encountered something, as well. Screams of pure terror echoed throughout the entire company's comms systems as the squad of marines on level two were viciously mauled, and the ODSTs fought to keep their lives against whatever it was that was terrorizing the station. "3rd squad, what is your status? 3rd squad?" But, only piercing screeches and the staccato of gunfire replied. "Marines, on me, we're going down to save them!" Wilhelm said as he discarded Michaels weapon onto the ground, and picked his own back up. Again, the radio came to life as the captain spoke to him. “Triple time, LT! When you get to the hangars, cover the south post and augment north." Wilhelm didn't like disobeying orders, but this was important. The lives of his men were at stake. He didn't even stop descending the stairs as he responded. "No can do, Captain. I'm taking 1st Squad down to level two. 3rd Squad's in trouble!" As Lt. Winter cleared the final step, 2nd Squad came around the bend, rushing to his position. "2nd Squad, escort PFC. Michaels to the hangar," he commanded while motioning towards Michael's body being carried down the stairs by another marine. "Get him medical attention. He came into contact with some organic and is hallucinating," he ordered. Redirecting his gaze, Wilhelm issued his single command. "1st Squad, we're going in!" Wilhelm bounded down the stairs to level two, the screams of 3rd Squad still very much alive in the darkness.

ONI Asteroid Facility, 'Northern' Hallways
PFC Friedhelm Winter

'Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!' was all that ran through Friedhelm's mind as he followed his brother deeper into the station. Why did ONI have to build such creepy places? Why did his squad have to investigate? Couldn't the Luna just blast this place from a safe distance--Cole Protocol the asteroid's AI, overkill-style? But, of course, they had to delve into the pitch-black station to find survivors of the Covenant attack, be they human or alien. It was made all the worse upon the discovery of some weird alien growth on the walls. Friedhelm could barely contain his anxiety of the developing situation after Michaels fell atop it, squishing the organism and releasing a foul odor. His brother, however, managed to keep a clear head as the lieutenant guided the platoon through the station, towards the stairs leading toward their destination. But, when the unit split up into three respecitve squads, Friedhelm was no longer in the safety of the middle. He was now rearguard . . . well, second rearguard. After being relieved of point-man, Michaels, now reeking of the same futor Friedhelm had smelled earlier by the hangar doors, had taken up that 'honour.' But was that such a good idea? There was no telling what it could do to his mind. It had fogged up his brain, when it was just a background scent, hiding in the splashed blood. Now, in full-force, it was as if an actual fog was wrapping itself around his brain, squeezing all sense of perception from his mind. Friedhelm's legs unconsciously carried him up the tiny staircase, and he nearly bumped into the man ahead of him when they stopped to get their bearings.

Wilhelm was talking about some barricade. Looking around, Friedhelm's eyes finally managed to focus enough to see the contraption of welded metal scraps, crates, and whatnot. It looked poorly constructed, and given that no survivors had yet to be found, likely didn't do the job of keeping the enemy out, at least not very well. Just like the rest of the station, a lack of blood was not a problem. It was as if it seeped from the very walls, like the station itself was wounded and bleeding from the encounter. Friedhelm stood apart from the rest of the squad as they decided where to go next. Apparently the blockade was in the way of their objective. He noticed his brother was talking to the platoon sergeant, a man named Warren. Barker Warren. Friedhelm didn't know him very well. But, then again, he didn't know any of the others very well, if at all. Aboard the Luna he had remained holed up in his books, most of the time. And, to be honest, that was where he wanted to be right now. He hated this asteroid, especially because ONI was involved. But, the moment someone radioed his brother, Wilhelm, he eyed the response very intently. Were they being called back? He silently prayed to the gods, any god, all the gods, that they were. He was caught off-guard, however, when the same man who had collapsed on the weird creature went from unusual to maniacal in 1.2 seconds. A wild, primal look appeared in MIcheals eyes as he tried to fend off whatever it was he thought he saw. Friedhelm raised his rifle in the direction of Michaels, poised to shoot if the marine came at him. Thankfully, he didn't. As the marine smashed the wall with his gun, and consequently began screaming his lungs out, Friedhelm took several steps away from the anomaly. He wanted nothing to do with it. Was the alien ooze at fault? And if it was, was it contagious? Or was the marine just naturally bat-shit insane? Friedhelm secretly hoped for the later. He didn't want to risk becoming infected by whatever it was. He was even a little worried for his brother when Wilhelm tacked Michaels and knocked him out.

But, finally, they were on the move. Not advancing into the darkness, but retreating back the way they came. Finally! They were going to leave this cursed place far behind in the wake of their pelicans. Friedhelm had no issue with that. Until, that is, the screaming started. Tuned into the platoon's frequency, he heard as the squad that had descended further into the station's belly were suddenly attacked by something unknown. Something evil. He heard them fire their weapons in unison at whatever they were screaming about. Their screeches of pure fear chilled his blood. "No can do, Captain. I'm taking 1st Squad down to level two. 3rd Squad's in trouble!" Friedhelm almost paused in his tracks. 'Oh, no. Please, no. Just leave them be, let them die. We need to get out of here, right now!' But he very well couldn't just abandon the unit to haul-ass back to the hangar. No, he had no choice but to follow his brother, once again, into the depths of this evil place, and towards the screaming of soldiers, and firing of guns.

When they reached level two, he saw the cause of commotion. Down at the end of the hallway, four men and women were sprinting towards Friedhelm and the rest of his unit. Behind them, he saw another two make a final stand as they both took a knee and began firing wildly at the Cove--no. This wasn't Covenant. It was something else, entirely. Illuminated by the flashlights of the marines, small orb-like bodies of rotten-looking flesh shuffled forward on tiny tentacle legs, followed immediately by mangled corpses with long, bony claws instead of arms. Friedhelm was wondering what the hell they were, when he noticed they came in different sizes and shapes. Some were tall and had bulking frames, like an Elite's. But, what appeared to be a floppy mound of flesh cast to the side of the shoulder . . . was their heads. From the midsection of their chest protruded long appendages tipped with pink, feathery feelers. Others were smaller, more human in stature, but the similarity was striking. Each had the same tentacles, the same bony, crustacean left arms, and the same rotting appearance. As Friedhelm looked on, the mass of moving flesh wasn't even stalled by the rapid-firing machine gun. Some of the small ones popped when they came into contact with the projectiles, but the larger forms just kept coming. And then they were on the two marines. They tore at their flesh with their claws, and the smaller ones swarmed them, a man and a woman, with their feelers, assaulting the bodies as high-pitched screams echoed down the halls. As his brother issued commands to prepare their weapons, but not to shoot until 3rd Squad, or what was left of it, got out of the way, Friedhelm had but one thought on his mind. This was definitely not the Covenant. This was Hell.

[Beiarusia]

LCp Aiko Akiyama // Sigma Pertonus III, ONI Space Station, Stairwell South

The First Lieutenant was quiet for a long while. It was the rapping at the door which ultimately brought Friedrich back from her thoughts and into the realms of reality once more, moving in a panicked state of fight or flight as she raised her weapon to take aim at the sealed bulkhead. A moment’s pause as Friedrich composed herself to some degree upon finding the assault rifle empty in her hands. She reloaded the AR as she spun to face both Akiyama and Petrovich, her movements shaky against the fear that had slowly descended upon them all. The First Lieutenant did not speak, perhaps unable to find the words. Seconds ticked by in near silence, the lull broken only by the near constant barrage of sharp knocks against the bulkhead, but even this too seemed to die away as the stillness took hold amongst the three ODST.

Ai stood there, a shadow lost to the darkness of the ONI station, unwilling to voice her mind further and content to merely allow this moment to pass unbroken, if not for her own sake then for the sake of her superior. Whatever fear that may have overtaken the young woman had long since given way to anger: anger at both ONI and at her self in particular.

ONI had fucked them, but that was generally to be expected given their track record.

In that regard Ai was no better.

Friedrich had very nearly died, and Ai was to blame. It was her fault.

She didn’t deserve to be saved, not after….

“We’ve got to keep moving…,” Friedrich said at last, her weary voice drawing Ai back to the here and now. “That door’s not gonna hold them so if we don’t get out of here, we are fucking toast. Akiyama, can you move quickly?”

Ai didn’t give an answer. She could stand unaided with little trouble – albeit with her weight shifted to her uninjured leg – but moving quickly would be a difficult task. A sense of guilt washed over Ai, her fist clenched tight as she found herself once more the burden of the group.

The First Lieutenant continued, quickly regaining her composure as she took charge once more, “We’ll keep moving to the datacore. I’ll have command plot us a route. Petrovich, you’re on point.”

They were going deeper in despite what lay waiting in the darkness. Ai wanted to argue against such a reckless action but knew that she would be shot down. The First Lieutenant did not seem the type to leave with the job only half finished no matter the odds stacked against her, and Ai had to at least respect that fragment of her nature. She had been the same during her time with ONI. Ai would keep them alive despite her own shortcomings. This would not be like the last time.

Ai stepped forward, careful of her injured leg. “Permission to speak freely?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Going back is not an option and searching for another way is too dangerous. We were fucked the moment we set foot on this station, but I don’t intend to die here and neither do you. Tell Archer to bug out, making as much noise as he and his marines can when they leave, and maybe those things will be distracted long enough for us to grab the datacore. Once we have it, we find the nearest airlock and jump station, after which the Luna can blow this place to dust.” She paused for a bit, fidgeting before allowing the sniper rifle to fall to her side, now weaponless after losing her sidearm in the horde. “I can probably keep up but not while lugging that heavy thing. If we’re lucky I won’t need it anyway.”

[Cymrea]

Captain Owainn Archer
ONI Facility - Sigma Pertonus III
"South" Corridors

Owainn followed the map in his HUD, closing in on Friedrich's location and paying close attention to that of the hostiles. Just moments after leaving the hangar, Friedrich sent over the open channel.

+++Command, this is Friedrich. Have all units close the hangar doors and fall back, don't come out for us. It'll do more harm than good, we'll continue on route to the data-core, requesting a route from the southeast stairwell.+++

She must have been pretty fucking rattled to circumvent the chain of command and try to contact Luna directly.

Then Winter sent. +++No can do, Captain. I'm taking First Squad down to Level Two. Third Squad's in trouble!+++

He held up his fist, signalling stop to the men at his back. Bloody hell. Was everybody ignoring orders and jumping into the fray?

Well, shit, wasn't he doing that very thing now? "Understood. See to your men, then haul ass back to the hangars."

Then he focused on his HUD as he sent to his other lieutenant over the open channel. "Friedrich, Archer. Sitrep understood. Requested route is inbound." Switching over to Friedrich's individual comm, he sent: "I'm not one to abort a reinforcement once started, LT, but I'm going to trust your judgment on this one. Keep me posted, though. And good hunting."

Changing channels again, he sent to his team. "All right, Helljumpers. Back to the barn; Friedrich has it covered." Owainn sincerely hoped she did. Friedrich was ODST to the bone - if anyone could pull the mission off, it was her. He plotted a likely route for Friedrich as they double-timed back to the hangars and squirted it on a tight beam to her HUD. Then he prayed to a God he was never sure existed.

Help us out here, won't you? Not much of a prayer, but it would have to do.

[Ubaria]

Each coming thud signified the passage of time, and how it was slipping so very fast in-front of their own eyes, eyes that had seen a lifetimes worth of horrors in the space of a few minutes, and it wasn't even lunchtime. Everyone became motionless in the stairwell almost seemingly oblivious to the hoard that were poised outside, lashing at the door in a cannibalistic frenzy, baying for blood and flesh to add to their army of the damned. The pause allowed everybody to re-compose for a short while and process just what in the hell was going on. Firstly the stations own defenses had opened fire on them, taking out multiple fighters and leaving one Pelican wounded in the bay, next the station had gone completely dark and after that, a whole army had pinned them in and were actively hunting them down. It was almost like someone or something didn't want them here, warning them off with threatening displays however they barged in completely unaware.

It was a short while before Akiyama spoke up.
“No, we can’t,” She replied to the earlier statement, using the Sniper rifle as a makeshift crutch to get her on two legs. Marco hoped she had the capacity to stay that way.

“Going back isn’t an option. Not with those bastards waiting for us. I hope you have a plan cause none of mine seem all too appealing.”

Marco had a plan. Get back to the hangar. Fuck the Data Core and whatever else ONI was hiding and have the Luna blast this rock out of existence. However that plan probably didn't sit too well for the ONI shadows that had orchestrated this raid in the first place, they wanted this place scrubbed clean and have this whole situation covered up with no loose ends, obviously the previous occupants of the station had failed that one task, and had become painted on the walls or transformed into a monster. Marco turned to Friedrich as she reloaded a magazine, pointing the gun at the door as she did so. Realizing her soldiers were awaiting orders, she gave them.

"We've got to keep moving.." Her voice containing a small element of fear.

"That doors not going to hold them, so if we don't get out of here, we are fucking toast, Akiyama, can you move quickly?" The sniper didn't give an answer back but simply stood, signifying that she could indeed move and fight.

“We’ll keep moving to the datacore. I’ll have command plot us a route. Petrovich, you’re on point.”

Fuck
Marco was a large fellow and could take most of what war could hurl him, whether that be Plasma, Needlers and even Energy Swords but right in the here and now, he was scared, not that he cared to admit or show it, but he was. His heart was beating far beyond a healthy rate, and he could feel the blood and adrenaline flowing underneath the skin, each hair stood directly on end and he was sweating profusely, a fine layer of condensation had misted the visor slightly, which made it look as if the VISR was picking out things through a fog. Marco gave a begrudging nod of acknowledgement towards the Lt to confirm his order and made way down the staircase into the unknown, after all this was his job, they were ODST, the people who jumped onto a planet in little more than a metal cage to protect them at breakneck speeds, right into the middle of a battle. Marco cast his mind back to a little motto that his previous Captain had uttered when fighting in a foxhole on Skopje.

"We cheat Death from his rightful victory. No one can defeat us. We are glad to plunge feet first into hell in the knowledge that we will rise." He mouthed the words quietly to himself, all the while moving with utmost caution, SMG raised and ready to turn on a point.

From behind him he could hear Akiyama talking.

“Going back is not an option and searching for another way is too dangerous. We were fucked the moment we set foot on this station, but I don’t intend to die here and neither do you. Tell Archer to bug out, making as much noise as he and his marines can when they leave, and maybe those things will be distracted long enough for us to grab the datacore. Once we have it, we find the nearest airlock and jump station, after which the Luna can blow this place to dust.” She cast the sniper rifle aside, its large form clattering to the floor.

“I can probably keep up but not while lugging that heavy thing. If we’re lucky I won’t need it anyway.” She continued.

Marco felt like doubling back and picking it up, not that he was any good with it but in any capacity a gun was a gun, they needed every weapon they could if they were to be surrounded like that again, either way he stayed silent, eyeing up a particularly blind corner. Marco pressed himself against the wall and peered around to see, he was met with nothing but the eerily empty corridor with the same theme of splattered blood and no bodies. With no apparent danger, Marco crossed the expanse over to another wall the other side and waited for the others to make their way across. In the moment of quietness he placed his SMG down and reached for his Grenade Launcher, placing a round in the chamber he held it in his left hand and bought his forearm at a 90 degree horizontal angle, then with his right hand he picked up the SMG and rested the grip against it, making for a weapon rest. This was a precautionary measure for in the event of an attack, he could fire his SMG from the right hand, and the grenade launcher from the left, the only problem came in reloading them both, however fornow the firepower would do.

[SaintB]

Sigma Pertonus III Stairwell
Ensign Francis "Limbo" Walker

When Lt. Winter pushed the barrel of his gun down and decked the crazed private Francis felt nothing but relief for having the burden of responsibility for taking care of the situation lifted off of his shoulders. He couldn't have shot anyway, he was pretty, mostly... entirely sure and knocking the man out was a far better plan anyway. With the exchange of events going down the ensign just stayed silent and out of the way, he didn't want to leave the station and go back to the hangar (which the marines were referring too as a beachhead) with whatever was going on in the station if he didn't know exactly what was going on. Soon that changed and the Lieutenant called an audible instead and he joined with the marines charging down the stairs to the aid of a squad a floor beneath them... what he saw made him pause in his tracks...

Horrible creatures were rushing what was left of the marine squad. Nightmare monsters that could have came from the darkest corners of some perverted horror writer's exhausted and fever ravaged mind with various wiggly feathery appendages sticking from their faces and sharp clawed arms and legs. There were also some smaller ones only barely larger than a cat or human head with the same feathery bits and single eye stalks that protruded from their fronts and were propelled by tentacles sticking from their bodies. For Francis it was even worse than for the marines as his night vision revealed what seemed like an endless horde of the abominations rushing down the hallway. He wanted to go back to the hangar now.

[Aquesta]

O'Donnell did as ordered and watched the hallway as 2nd Lt.Winter dealt with Michaels. O'Donnell lowered his BR55 as Michaels crumpled to the ground and a fellow marine went over to him and started carrying him. O'Donnell breathed a sigh of relief when he found out that they were heading back to the hanger. The station was quite eerie and the lack of bodies was unsettling to say the least. But unfortunately their enemies had other plans. His face paled beneath his balaclava as the sound of combat and the screams of dying and frightened men came over the comms.

O'Donnell wasn't overly chuffed that they were going to fight whatever monstrosities that had attacked 3rd squad but abandoning men without even trying to save them wasn't acceptable to O'Donnell. He felt trepidation as he followed his squad to the location of the screams and gunfire. His apprehension turned to outright horror when he reached level two and saw the abominations for the first time as the flashlights of the marines and the flash from their guns illuminated them, displaying all of their repugnant features. O'Donnell wanted nothing more than to turn-tail and get off this station, but he wouldn't and couldn't at least for the time being. He couldn't abandon his comrades and then live with himself afterwards, besides being alone on this station didn't sound hugely appealing to him.
The sight of the lack of effect that the gunfire had on the big ones and of the marines getting ripped apart didn't exactly fill him with hope. "Bollocks, we're fucked." He muttered as the remainder of third squad finally reached them. O'Donnell crouched down and raised his rifle and opened fire with the rest of the marines. The effect seemed to be negligible, at least on the big zombie ones. The small ones were easy to kill, just one burst from his BR55 took care of them handily. But the big zombie ones just kept coming and even when they finally went down after being pumped full of lead another one took it's fallen comrades place.

Deciding that something with a little bit more punch was needed, he dropped his BR and let it hang from it's sling as he retrieved one of his M9 frags. He got back on his feet and yelled "Frag out!" as he stepped forward a step and hurled the grenade into a crowd of them. He prepared a second grenade as the thrown frag landed in the middle of a crowd of them and detonated. Staining the already blood-soaked walls with fresh blood. As the smoke cleared, O'Donnell's heart sank. It had managed to take out a few of them as evidenced by the prone mangled bodies scattered across the floor but there was more to take the place of the fallen, there always was. It seemed like that there was an endless supply of them. He shrugged and shouted "Frag out!" with much less enthusiasm, as he presses the button on the grenade and flings the frag into the crowd of them again. The result is the same. Deciding that he should conserve his remaining grenade. He loads a fresh clip into his BR and opens fire again. They were getting closer and closer, it wouldn't be long now before they were overwhelmed.

[Galdius]

"Friedrich, Archer. Sitrep understood. Requested route is inbound. I'm not one to abort a reinforcement once started, LT, but I'm going to trust your judgment on this one. Keep me posted, though. And good hunting."

A smile came to her face, a smile of relief, knowing that she wasn't going to get anyone killed on a suicide mission to come rescue her and her squad. At least if they went down, they weren't about to drag down the rest of the soldiers with them, a truly depressing thought to be somewhat pleased about. The route popped up on her Heads up display, detailing a simple enough route straight towards the data-core. While it looked easy enough, it unfortunately didn't account for the army of horrific monsters that stood between them and it. Nothing was ever easy when you were an ODST and she figured that they were going have to fight tooth and nail to retrieve it, and as the firefight moments ago had proven, they're nails and teeth weren't exactly sharp. They would have to move fast in order to avoid becoming a chew toy or one of those things, and with a potentiality slow comrade with to a leg wound, things might be even harder. She ejected the remaining live shells in M90 CAWS and replaced them with several incendiary shotgun shells from the pouch, loading them into the gun, the rounds produced a rather spectacular flame when fired, She hoped that the magnesium based pellets and fire would do a lot more damage to those things, as bullets seemed to do next to nothing.

“Permission to speak freely?”

Ai didn't even give her a chance to give an answer, normally most people of her rank would just go ahead and chew a soldier out for such activity. But she couldn't give less of a shit right now, as the combined stress and anger that was flowing in the small stairwell was likely enough to cause a cardiac arrest in a perfectly health man. Anything that could clear the air was needed more than anything right about now.

Of course, talking didn't always help the situation.

“Going back is not an option and searching for another way is too dangerous. We were fucked the moment we set foot on this station, but I don’t intend to die here and neither do you. Tell Archer to bug out, making as much noise as he and his marines can when they leave, and maybe those things will be distracted long enough for us to grab the datacore. Once we have it, we find the nearest airlock and jump station, after which the Luna can blow this place to dust.”

The plan was a perfectly valid one, if they where to make it to the data-core, a distraction would certainly help their chances, anything to slow the tide of those things. One thing stood out to her however, it meant the possibility she would likely be sentencing some marines to their deaths and she didn't want that on her already broken conscience. Even if it meant she had wander into the valley of death alone then so be it, a path she had dared many times in good company. "Teams are already pulling back." She answered flatly, but from the sounds of it, some of the marine units had already make contact with those things, so it looked like a accidental distraction was already in play, lucky them. "We're on our own." She could understand the fear that was flying around, but they had a mission to complete and she was intent on ensuring that they completed it before getting the fuck of this station. " Petrovich, forwarding you the route, Akiyama you're on rear, lets get moving." With a few taps on her wrist mounted datapad, she sent the plotted route over to the team's HUD mini-map before following the point man into the blackened corridor only lit by the helmets NOD, keeping her shotgun at eye level.

The scene was much the same as before, empty, decorated in an aging red splatter of blood, shellcasings but not a single body to account for the aftermath of violence, but it had long since become apparent what had happened to the corpses, part of her wished she didn't know the disturbing truth, most of her wished that she wasn't here, she wished she within the safety of her own home. But right now, she was in the shit and to ensure that her home and the homes of others stayed safe, they had to wade through that shit, which if it wasn't for the fucked up mutated humans and parasitic monster blobs it would just another day in the glorious UNSC. Keeping quiet and alert, watching the groups six, she awaited for her point man to move forward and tread the darkened path which led deeper into the nightmarish facility.

[SaintB]

Sigma Pertonus III Substructue Hall
Ensign Francis "Limbo" Walker

He never heard an order to open fire but someone pulled their trigger and then there was a cacapony of noise as everyone else followed suite so Walker joined in as well firing bursts at the incoming horde of flesh and whatever they were made out of. One marine shouted a warning and started tossing grenades down the hall and while the shrapnel and high explosives produced an impressive amount of destruction the mass of pressing bodies was undeterred by the death and dismemberment of their comarades and in fact some of their comarades seemed less than impressed about their own dismemberment and continued to struggle forward toward the living bodies that were only a few meters down the hallway. Through the mass of nighmare beasts pushed a swollen mass of rotting tissue that moved ponderously foward in a manner that resembled a drunken stagger and the other monsters seemed to actually make room for it too make its approach.

Francis did not know what the hell it was but he didn't want it anywhere near him, no freaking way! He aimed for the shaded dented spot that seemed to be its head and fired three and four shot bursts at his chosen target making sure to adjust for recoil between each one, he had poured nearly 40 rounds into the thing but there was no kind of visible effect! As he ejected the magazine and started to reload he felt panic beggining to set in as the things closed the distance between them at its lumbering pace but finally to his relief he finally got the magazine in place and he quickly pulled back the charging switch. The bloated mass had reached the front of the horde now as 'Limbo' aimed down the sights he took a step or two forward and pulled the trigger to fire another burst of 7.62 rounds at the thing hitting squarely in the "face". It staggered back and and fell in amongst the crowd of... things... and then to the ensign's shock it exploded with at least the same force as one of the marine's hand grenades. The shockwave forced the rifle out of his hands and knocked him down onto his ass then he was splattered in a sickly olive green mucous like substance that covered most of his visor.

The world seemed to slow down and all sound was drowned out by a loud ringing not unlike tinitus if it was jacked on stims and methanphetamines. Francis wiped off his visor with his hands and flicked the slime off of them and looked up toward where the mass of inuman fiends was coming at him. The rank in front had been all but anihilated by their exploding compatriot but the ones behind them were rushing forward to fill that gap without the slightest bit of concern. The buklhead had actually deformed near where the creature had litterally exploded and had killed or maimed everything near it as far as he could tell but then there was movement from within the sad sacks of flesh and fluid that used to be eldritch horrors. Francis saw it all in terrifying clarity as first an eye stalk pushed out from the ruins of the bloated beast immediatly proceeded by the rest of a cat sized blob thing that came rushing toward him and it was quickly joined by two others.

Francis screamed and started crab walking backward trying to put the marines as meat and armor shields between himself and the death ball things but his hand slipped on a puddle of only god knew what and instead he ended up jarring his left elbow at the funny bone. The first of the things was on top of him in the same second that he smashed his funny bone on the deck plating; it was skittering up his leg like a crab and the terrified pilot instinctively put his hands up to ward it off of his face and chest. Red, feathery, tenticle, things, started to wrap around his left arm but Francis (screaming like a maniac the entire time) ripped them away and then tossed the offending blob off of himself. He grabbed at his waist for his pistol as the second one jumped nearly 2 meters into the air and raised the weapon at arms length to fire off half the clip at it and managed to score a hit or two, the bullets deflected its course and left it lifeless as it landed next to him on the floor.

The third grabbed for his leg with its appendages and he pointed the weapon at it and pulled the trigger. There were four shells left in the magazine and the frantic ensign squeezed the trigger until it was emptied entirely. Three rounds hit the infector form squarely in the body but the fourth missed its target and instead hit the wielder of the weapon... before the pain from his wound could even register the pilot fainted from a combination of shock and exhaustion. The site of his own blood was just too much extra stress for him.

[Ubaria]

'What horrors await us in the fringes of darkness?
'The dead walk these halls. Twisted entities manifest the very meaning of demons'
'What crime have these men committed to deserve such a grizzly fate?

The darkness threatened to consume what little sanity he had left, a constant broken record of unanswered questions played on and on, an endless torment to mock what seemed like an endless endeavor. Perhaps this was what madness felt like, your own consciousness became a far greater enemy than any physical being could, solely from the fact you could not run from it, you could not hide from it, it was the very part of your sentience that would be your downfall. Right now Marco was pondering whether he had reached that critical stage yet, where thinking was doing more harm than good, at least if the enemy presented itself he could concentrate on something, right now was just the headsman's axe of anticipation hanging right over the trio, where and when would the next attack come from?...and would they even survive another encounter?

Marco trod the outlined route with caution, sticking to the leftmost wall of the corridor as they went through identical sections, all adorned with the scars of death and loss, by now the blood was dried onto the walls and it was increasing in volume, right down the route they were taking. Marco picked out a strange rounded shape on the floor sat in the middle of the corridor and on further inspection, appeared to be a standard CH252 UNSC Marine Helmet. The pale green coating had multiple scrapes and jagged edges where it had been battered around, red congealed blood made a gory patterning on the frontal section and highlighted cracks in the broken visor. On the rear of the headpiece read 'PFC Manning' in white chalk writing, obviously denoting the previous owner. Poor Bastard. Marco paused, staring over the helmet in some sort of mourning process, the faceless soldier now walked among the ranks of the dead, there would be no burial for this soldier...there would probably be no funeral, just another letter posted through the door of the soldiers parents...missing in action. No way would they want to admit what happened here, there probably wasn't even a word invented yet. Sick of the thought of it all, Marco continued onwards.

When will this end?

Marco raised one hand with the SMG still clutched in it, signalling for them to come to a stop. The plotted route told them that the data core lay only 200 meters away, even less, however another hastily constructed barricade lay in their path, similar to the one they had encountered earlier, the same arrangement of crates and metallic sheets that had been thrown around by something much bigger than them. Marco noticed bloody bootprints leading beyond the barricade and off the way they had to head, they weaved left and right as whoever they were created by, obviously had been staggering back the last few feet in a feeble attempt of escape, a bloody pool became the final resting place for the un-named soldier, a few magnum shell casings and a discarded pistol marked their final moments. However where the trail halted, Marco noticed something fixed onto the wall, a small metallic rectangle around 7 inches in height and 3 in width, only marked with yellow and orange warning labels.

'Warning! Composition 12 Shaped Charge. Handle with Caution. Property of the UNSC'

And there were more.

Detonation cord continued down the corridor leading to multiple other similar metal rectangles, all the way down into the misty darkness. They numbered around a dozen in total and with a few more lingering out of sight.

The last man standing had the job of enacting the Cole Protocol, which involved blowing the station into oblivion. However obviously they had perished before the task could have been complete, and the triggerman wasn't anywhere to be seen. The green glowing LED on the rectangular objects showed that they were armed, and only the singular press of a button would detonate them...the only question was...where was the button?. Marco huffed at the newly arisen complication and beckoned over to Freidrich.

"Friedrich...you might want to see this" Marco waved her over and pointed at the large compound explosive tied to the wall, then traced the trail of cord all the way down into the darkness.

"These are C-12 Demolition Charges...enough to blow a hole in a Covenant Destroyer" Marco observed. Compound-12 explosives were extremely powerful, and were used in major demolition projects and could fell a reinforced concrete building no problem. That's why they were used to destroy key buildings and emplacements to prevent them falling into enemy hands. They were standing on enough to blow the station out of orbit.

[Beiarusia]

LCp Aiko Akiyama // Sigma Pertonus III, ONI Station, A.I. Level

Ai limped along, bringing up the rear as the three ODST pushed their way deeper into the ONI space station and closer to the A.I. Core. Petrovich was leading the way; Friedrich in the center. Moving quickly was difficult for the injured soldier, the pain in her ankle flaring with each and every step, but she made pace and never once complained despite her wish to rest for even a minute. The group couldn’t afford to stop. Not with those things laying in wait in the darkness. They had been lucky so far, but that could not last forever.

The blackness of the station was all consuming, the VISR doing little to beat back the creeping fear that lay in wait behind every darkened corner and behind every bulkhead, a trail of blood and death serving as a reminder of what had transpired here. A memento mori that sent chills shivering down the spine of Ai. She was afraid, not of death but of what awaited after should she fall, becoming one of them, a much grimmer fate. Ai did not allow this fear to break through, however, the only indication of its existence being the slight shake of the SOCOM held in her hand. A stoic demeanor, a holdover of her days with ONI. A farce when in reality the terror was welling up inside of her to unseen heights. The ODST were potentially marching to their doom, and Ai would love nothing more than to jump station while the chance still remained, but she was nothing if not a dutiful soldier and would not abandon her comrades. They would fight together and, if need be, they would die together. A pessimistic thought that did little to alter Ai’s mood.

A marine’s helmet lay abandoned in the corridor. Petrovich had given it a glance, pausing as if mourning the fallen. It was only a moment before the ODST continued on his way, leading the trio towards their objective. Ai looked over to the ruined helmet, taking note of the blood which surrounded it. A name was still visible though Ai cared not to read it, intending to leave the soldier nameless less she find humanity in those things, an unlikely proposition but after her earlier incident she did not want to provide ways for hesitation to strike out at her.

Petrovich signaled for them to stop. The ODST were very close now to A.I. Core, another barricade thrown across the corridor before them. There was more blood here, bootprints marking when some poor soul had made a final attempt at safety. They ended near a discarded handgun, spent casings embedded in the gore. Petrovich moved over towards the wall, “Friedrich… you might want to see this.”

Ai moved ahead, grunting as she bent down to take hold of the discarded pistol. It appeared to still be functioning despite the rust colour adhered to it by the blood. Holstering the SOCOM she serviced the M6, ejecting its magazine and clearing its chamber. Certain that it was in a good enough condition she reloaded the weapon and readied it for firing.

“There are C-12 Demolition Charges… enough to blow a hole in a Covenant Destroyer,” announced Petrovich, studying the charges planted along the wall.

Ai limped over to join him. She had never been the explosives expert but she knew enough to get by. The small ODST followed the mess of cords with her eyes to where it disappeared beyond the barricade. “Always need a Plan B,” Ai muttered, a humorless chuckle quickly dying away. “If we’re lucky they used an analog connection.”

She followed the explosives, her hand trailing along the cords and her fingers lightly gracing each charge. The barricade had been nearly blown apart, most likely torn through by those things. There was more blood, a common sight aboard this station, red as well as the near bioluminescence of the Covenant. Ai readied her acquired handgun as she peered pass the makeshift wall, ready to fire should anything by lurking beyond.

There was a mass on the grown, grotesque and distorted. The M6 was trained on it instantly. When it did not move she approached, carefully, nudging the thing with the side of her boot. It was dead, at least as far as she could tell, though even with a cursory glance it was apparent that what lay here had never once been human. “Found another one of those things,” she announced over the comm, her voice barely a whisper. She quickly added, “Dead. It’s… Covenant, I think.”

Ai studied the dead creature, twisted and broken, deformed by whatever mutation which had occurred. Leaving it, she continued along the wall, following the C-12 charges further down the corridor to where they ended. As luck would have it the connection was indeed analog, the detonator wired and abandoned near the last of the explosives. Ai, hesitant, lifted the device, holding it carefully. It was primed and ready.

“I found the detonator,” she alerted, placing the device back where it was previously. She turned to wait for the others but a sound drew her attention, a thump not too far from where she now stood. The M6 was raised in an instant. Ai was still for a moment: waiting, silent. It was when she began to relax that she heard it again. A thump, muted, and somehow different from the monsters that had lain in wait aboard the station. Her voice was quiet. “Possible contact.”

Ai found the source of the sound easily enough: a security room whose door had been locked tight. There was blood splattered against the wall, red and violet, tinged green in some places. There was no window into the room and the external camera had been damaged during the conflict, not much that it mattered with the power outage. The room seemed locked, and worst still there were signs that something had tried desperately to claw its way inside. Ai stood close, ear pressed to the door and listening intently. In the silence she could just make out the faint noise of movement, a purposefully quiet sound so unlike the slithering of the things which cared not for stealth. Ai balled a fist and, lightly, tapped against the bulkhead a simple rhythm of knocks. Whatever was inside stalled and, after a long moment, returned the knock from inside the room, matching the rhythm Ai had laid out.

The ODST looked back to where Petrovich and the First Lieutenant were, her voice uncertain over the comm. “I think I may have found a survivor.”