Halo: Penumbra (IC / OPEN)

[Beiarusia]

HALO: PENUMBRA
> OOC <

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> T H E M E <
-> The Pub (P2TM RP Group) <-
> Halo: Trepidation <

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CHAPTER 01: Avalon

EDIT: DOWN FOR MAINTENANCE
There was an issue when copying. Will need to fix.

[New Finnish Republic]

LCpl. Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

They were outnumbered, outgunned, and had no chance in hell to survive this fight. A typical day in the UNSC, Matti thought as he followed Kotze. He cursed his luck at getting assigned on the team that was going inside the building. Close Quarters Combat was definitely not his forte, and Matti had been limited to using his sidearm for most of the fighting so far while his M99 was slung across his back. I bet Rileh is having all the fun while I'm stuck picking needles out my ass down here. At this rate, I'm never going to get past a Lance Corporal before I'm six feet under. However, despite his annoyance at his assignment, Matti was glad that he was with the Major. They'd undoubtedly be running into some tough competition below, and if Matti managed to bag a couple high-ranking Elites, he was bound to get a promotion. At least, that's what he hoped for.

As they made their way down the stairwell, Matti's senses were on high alert as he scanned for any sign of any Covies that wanted to try and get the drop on them while they were bunched up and exposed. The last thing he wanted was to end up in another ambush and lose another one from their fireteam. The loss of Levitz was unfortunate, but casualties were an inevitability in such high-risk operations that Matti and his unit found themselves in. Still, Matti wasn't going to just let that happen without doing his best to stop it.

Deeper into the basement they went, the sounds of gunfire and explosions filling the air as the UNSC waged a desperate fight against the Covenant forces. Like on so many other worlds, it looked like they were going to lose the planet to the Covenant. Matti just prayed he could get his ass off of this planet before that happened.

Just another typical day in the UNSC, I guess.

[Ubaria]

Sergeant Chae-Won Shin
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2529

A wooden foyer wasn't the greatest of places to take cover during an ambush, but choice wasn't a luxury in this situation and making do with whatever one could find was the difference between life and death in such a short timeframe, besides Shin would rather take a few hot wooden splinters over a plasma round to the chest any day of the week. He wasn't alone either as Kotze and a couple of others were bundled into the same situation, desperately dodging incoming rounds and returning their own when and if they could, each second was precious.

"This spook better be worth it!" Shin exclaimed aloud, directed towards nobody in particular, he just wished to vent his frustration whilst thumping another fresh magazine into his M392. He had expended godknows how much ammunition during their fight and without checking, Shin knew he had to be running low, soon he would be forced down to his Magnum or even worse still, his combat knife. Neither of those things would be neccesary because what came next superseded the combined firepower of the entire squad. A Pelican hung low and quickly snapped its rotating chaingun to bear, the revolving barrel spat 70mm of pure covenant hating hail at an immense rate, slicing through the concrete equally as effortlessly as it did flesh and bone, turning the ambush force into little more than a sticky pulp, as quick as it appeared, the Pelican vanished.

With their comrades reduced to a thickly applied paste on the floor, the remaining Covenant retreated but letting them off that easily would have been a sin. Quickly taking aim upon the remains of the front desk, Shin put several rounds into a couple of scarpering Jackals before Kotze eliminated the remainder with a sweep of Machine Gun fire.

"And don't come back"

With the immediate threat gone, Kotze ordered his own fireteam down into the basement to retrieve the ONI agent they had come all this way for whilst the other fireteam, Wyvern would make their way to the roof to secure extraction.

[Ormata]

Lieutenant Vjenceslav Kovac, FIRETEAM WYVERN
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2549

"Greene, secure an LZ on the rooftop. We have the VIP. Covenant are still in the building so watch those corners. Five minutes and we're gone."

So this was Paris IV. Kovac hadn’t traveled much by way of civilian, so it was new. Place looked like it might’ve been alright, at some point in life. Looked like it could’ve been clean if you replaced the burned corpses and the smell with playing kids and the smell of exhaust fumes. Was too clean, though; Kovac didn’t like it. Too modern. Too neat. Too planned. He didn’t like the recent editions, either. Few probably did.

Liking things wasn’t his job, though. Clearing an LZ? That was. Fucking hell.

Kovac clicked the safety on his M90, putting it in the crook of his arm before quickly assessing who wasn’t shitting their pants in fear. The people who were twitchy were out; they were new and it wasn’t his job to baby them. It was their job to cover Wyvern’s back, or really rather would be, and he didn’t need to be shot by a Needler again to know that those bitches really, really were bitches. It was something that stuck with you. The guys with cold faces were out, too. They were focused like knives but would do more down below, clearing the fucking rooms. No, he wanted the in-betweens, the shit-your-pants but still not fucking dead inside people.

“You, you, you, on me. Cover our asses and I’ll buy you all fucking keg, alright?” He pointed them out, a redhead lady with a vicious scar on her lip and two bastards who couldn’t be more than twenty. Fucking shame. They didn't look comfortable with the situation. Good.

[Anowa]

GySgt Wyatt Greene
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

"Greene, secure an LZ on the rooftop. We have the VIP. Covenant are still in the building so watch those corners. Five minutes and we're gone."

A brief 'copy' was all that Greene replied with. No time to think in these situations, you just acted. "Wyvern, on me." he didn't wait for a response. A smart soldier would come with anyway, especially in a situation like this. It was either that option or getting left behind.

Moving across the lobby to a staircase opposite of Lynch, Greene started hauling ass up them, several bodies being passed on the way up, both human and covie. Scorch marks from plasma rounds and pock marks from the projectile the UNSC still used littered thew walls and floor, shell casing scattering about every few steps, magazines threatening to ruin your balance. A standard battleground in the UNSC.

After about three flights, they made it to the rooftop. Corporal Clegg was the first through, she didn't remain standing for very long however, the moment they cleared the door, she took a round to the knee, the green blob of baking through flesh and cartilage. Leaving blackened bone and a ruined joint. Greene grabbed her by the collar and dragged her to cover behind an AC unit as the rest of the team scattered about. The emotionaless man ignored her screams as he made a split second decision. "Corpsman!"

Out of the stairway a duo of the GI Marines came sprinting to their side. One a Corpsman, the other normal infantry. Yet another death as he ate a burst from a plasma repeater. His shotty dropping to the ground cold. Greene poked his head over his own cover for a moment. Two Majors, a few Jackals and grunts. Standard composition. One they didn't have too much time to deal with.

Greene frowned as he pulled his ruck off his back. Resting his BR on the AC unit. Reaching in to the ruck he grabbed something he wasn't expecting to use so soon. The sole Satchel he had on him. Priming it was simple, rip a small cord to ignite the fuse, at that point it would either detonate with a hard enough impact, or in eight seconds.

More than enough for what he was planning. "Fire in the hole!"

Grabbing the satchel's strap he whipped it over his cover. The nearly head sized pack sailed over the no man's land and smacked directly into the squad of the covies. Most had no chance to react before being turned to gibbed chunks. Through the smoke and dust it created he spotted movement, the the distinct sparking of an Elite's shield generator. They weren't all dead yet. "Wyvern, mop em up!" To emphasize his order, the glowing and scaly arm of a grunt smacked over his helmet. Leaving a spatter of the methane rich blood over his uniform

Looking down at the Corpsman he spoke, "How's she doing Doc?"

A thick Aussie accent came back, "She'll live Gunny, only thing holding her shin on his her uniform, so she'll need a prosthetic. But she's not at risk of anything other than smelling like a Brute barbecue."

"Copy that." glancing down at the woman, he noticed that she'd acquired the fallen marine's shotgun and was now aiming at the stairway they came up from. Her screaming had stopped, likely from the dose of morphine the corpsman gave her. Greene gave a small two knuckle rap on her helmet, "You're doing great kid."

---

Code: Select all

Jackal Minor: Plasma Pistol --> Cpl. Clegg [Heavily Wounded]
Elite Major: Plasma Repeater --> Marine (SG) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Satchel Charge --> Elite Major (PRr) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Satchel Charge --> Jackal Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Satchel Charge --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Satchel Charge --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
Cpl. Clegg: Shotgun (Overwatch) --> Stairway Entrance

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Corspman Second Class Gavin Toran
Fireteam Lynch
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV

Gavin quickly hit the deck, as the plasma grenade, signalling the start of an ambush completely obliterated Corporal Levitz. He hated those, not even a chance to throw it back once it stuck to you and so far no known way of detaching it, some got lucky, able to throw the helmet or whatever it was attached to, but for the most part if it hit you, you're screwed. Orders were called out from the Marines leadership, giving the three D's, Direction, Description, and Distance, instinctively Gavin brought his MA5C to bear and let out a short burst before ducking down, following Major Kotze into what limited bit of cover was there.

"I'm hit!"

That phrase, along with a few others is one of the things Gavin always listened for intently during any fire fight, he peeked around the corner and located the wounded Marine, just a few feet away slouched up against a support pillar, hardly enough room for him to work. Another few bursts towards the aliens and he rushed from cover towards the Marine. He popped open his med pouch and set his rifle carefully down next to him, he went about assessing the Marine, seeing what caused him to go down, plasma shot directly to his left arm. Medical training kicked in, administering a small amount of Polypseudomorphine, enough to numb the pain but keep the Marine alive. Here the Corpsman had to make a tactical decision, and opted with a tourniquet on the arm instead of biofoam, didn't want to waste it in case his squad was hit later on.

"OK Marine you're gonna be fine! Can you make it to-" Gavin was cut off by the deafening roar of a Pelican's chain gun, he threw his body over the casualties wound, to ensure no glass shards would find their way inside. Once the barrage was over Gavin continued to instruct the wounded to make his way back to the rally point, grabbing a nearby Marine and giving him instruction as well, plus the casualties weapon.

Moments later, the lobby was clear and Gavin fell in line with the rest of his team, Major Kotze on point of course. Next came Lance Corporal Heikkinen, or "Loki" as he was known to the team. They descended a stairwell into the basement, each of them knowing which sector of fire based on their position, weapon barrels trained in that direction, constantly sweeping back and forth.

"Loki, I'm sure you're just loving this aren't you?" Gavin whispered into his comm set, mildly joking, as they moved close and closer to their objective.

[Greater Dmanian]

Ensign Anthony Morton
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

A brief 'copy' was all that Greene replied with. No time to think in these situations, you just acted. "Wyvern, on me."

Though moments from following the Lieutenant the sudden order from the fireteam lead took priority and Morton followed, the cluster of branch ranks had somewhat upset the chain of command and he was still figuring out the pecking order of Quasar beyond the assigned leaders.

He kept his MA37 tucked into his shoulder as he followed Greene up the flights of stairs, he had hoped one day to visit a city that wasn't a warzone but the covenant as the innies before them had made that increasingly unlikely. The sudden burst of energy fire followed by Corporal Clegg's screams broke his concentration as he scrambled into cover. "And I wanted to come here for shore leave" he grunted as he threw himself behind the closest solid surface he could find. As soon as the explosion went off and the shower of dust passed over head he snapped back into focus and swung out of cover bring his weapon to bare, a quick burst made quick work of the failing Major's energy shield before purple blood spurted across the ground, a shower of lead tore a path from its chest all the way to it's face as he let the recoil carry the rifle up it's body. He slipped into cover moments before the enemy regained their senses and unleashed a torrent of plasma on his position. His choice of position was not as good as he thought as he found himself tucking deeply into the side, plasma scorching the corners far too close to his shoulder for his liking.

"I'm pinned!" he shouted through his squad radio as the warmth of plasma began to get more intense and his cover melted away. He continued tightening his body into cover as he looked frantically for an escape that wouldn't get him killed. There didn't appear to be any only the rapidly degrading slab next to him that began to steam. He could only bunker down and wait to be slow cooked by a barrage of suppressing fire. Hardly the position he imagined himself to be in when he killed his first elite. He was popping all of his cherries today as he fought in what was arguably his first direct combat deployment. Even in the navy he had never been unfortunate enough to be victim to a boarding action.

He was taking this pretty well.

[Beiarusia]

Major Ezekiel Kotze
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Fireteam Lynch hurried down the steps, two at a time, Major Kotze on point as they filed into the basement. The lower landing was deserted. Machine gun leading, Kotze signaled his team deeper into the underbelly of the university, closer towards where gunfire could be heard as a muted staccato, their path marked with blood both human and not. Several marines lay dead, bodies burned and broken, one decapitated, but the number of Covenant joining them made it clear that the men had not fallen without a fight. Grunts and Jackals mostly, but an odd Elite here or there. Minors. Inexperienced, thus explaining the carelessness that had undoubtedly led to their demise. The veterans had survived. Kotze noted as such and gave a curt warning to his team lest they stumble into a fight they couldn't win.

The hallway led them to a wide concourse overlooking various technical classrooms and work bays. Central pillars lined the main walkway, concrete, equidistant with several meters in between each. Decor was limited to the geometric, though any artwork would be difficult to gauge given that the overhead lighting had been destroyed or else cut from the power supply. Two smaller pathways crossing at the midway point.

"Contacts ahead. Low and quiet," Kotze said over the team comm, voice a little more than a whisper.

It was apparent from the flashes of green and blue plasma that the Covenant were laying siege to an engineering lab on the far end of the concourse. Grunts mostly with a Jackal sharpshooter. Small fry, nothing too difficult for the experienced BLACK operatives, however, the two Elites posed somewhat of a problem or, at the very least, stood as a viable threat. Higher ranks, a Major and another clad in ornamental armor that few would have seen previously. ONI likely had intel regarding the Elite and its status within the Covenant military, but lacking access to such information one could only assume that fancy armor correlated to higher rank.

As for the few remaining marines, they had done well to stall the enemy thus far but were pinned down, running low on ammo, and generally on their last legs.

The commandos moved without a sound and without drawing unwanted attention to themselves, searching for the best position before engaging. Kotze remained on point; the others fell to wherever was best for them. Close, but with enough distance between them to avoid losing half their force to a lucky grenade or, more alarmingly, a frenzied Elite with an energy sword.

The Covenant was oblivious to their presence.

Kotze radioed his team, addressing Lance Corporal Lehkoken, their dedicated sniper, in particular. "Go on your mark. Make it count."

---

FIRETEAM WYVERN
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

The satchel charge had caught the Covenant unaware and, what more, had killed a fair number of them before they could even respond, but the advantage was short lived as the remaining Covenant proved more difficult to kill. The Grunt had fallen into a panic, but the Jackal sharpshooter had found itself a perch all the while the Elite Major was picking its way around so as to flank the humans, its shields allowing it to cross from cover to cover without taking so much as a scratch. The Plasma Repeater wasn't too useful at range, but up close it would shred the fireteam with little forgiveness.

But more trouble was inbound.

Below another Covenant platoon was making its way up to assist. An Elite Minor and some Grunts, and although not too much of a danger the humans were about to be taking fire on both ends.

[Ormata]

Lieutenant Vjenceslav Kovac, FIRETEAM WYVERN
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2549

The firefight had taken a great turn. A satchel charge by Greene had taken a fair few of them out, shaking Kovac’s teeth like one wouldn’t believe. As far as casualties went, they were surprisingly light, with only a few men murdered under the onslaught. Clegg had taken a good amount of shots, though; she’d been the first through and hung at the entrance now, shotgun in hand with that far-off look one got when Morphine had entered.

Yet Kovac heard something else amidst the fight. He was still back, quite near the Corporal with his three Marines in tow, and the fight was muffled ever so by the concrete in way, though still felt like hammers against his ears. Footsteps; you could say that it was nearly impossibly in hearing those, but they sounded heavy. Brute or an Elite, Kovac would say, one of those bigger bastards; they wouldn’t send a Hunter up stairs. They hadn’t in his experience done that sort of thing. The stairs wouldn’t take the weight.

“Stairs,” he tried to yell above the din, though he didn’t get above the noise the first time. He yelled again, shotgun swung-about and ready. “Fucking stairs!” A Grunt was the first customer, running up with a plasma pistol in one hand and a hand of blue plasma in the other, his pistol a bright little sun. He gained a rare treat of buckshot from Corporal Clegg as she fired-off into the bastard, flesh coating the wall behind him and nitrogen hissing.

As she racked the action, slowed by her injury, another came rushing-up. The Covenant, despite their damn stupidity at times, had learned a few tricked. ‘Shotguns were slow’ was one of these tricks, and rushing a soldier with a shotgun in quick succession was one tactic they’d adapted to this. Kovac fired-off into his head, the skull disappearing in blood and shards. Then the Elite came, hulking up the stairs in it’s beetle blue armor with arifle in his hand, held low before quickly raising the thing.

He could feel the sweat on his hands, the other Marines firing into the Minor as it’s shields flared a harsh light, the noise filling the room as though there was nothing else but simply bullets and the smell of propellant. The Elite’s finger pressed down on the trigger, the flared shield irking it’s aim as the burst went wide, catching Erikkson in the lower leg with one of the needles and plastering the walls with the rest. He screamed, eyes wide and scared and full of that animal fear, firing his gun in the general direction of the Elite.

Clegg fired again, the shot catching the Elite in the helmeted head as it angled downwards before looking back up and into the bullet of another Marine. The bastard collapsed in a heap, falling backwards and down the stairs. Kovac could’ve sworn he heard a Grunt squeal as the Elite fell, but that was probably just his imagination. Another came rushing-up, pistol in hand, before being dispatched by another shot from Kovac.

"Medic! Man down!"

Code: Select all

Cpl. Clegg: M45 Shotgun --> Grunt Minor (PP)
Pvt. Harris: M45 Rifle --> Elite Minor (NR)
Lt. Kovac: M45 Shotgun--> Grunt Minor (PP)
Lt. Kovac: M45 Shotgun--> Grunt Minor (PP)
Elite Minor: Plasma Rifle --> Pvt. Erikkson (M45 Rifle) [Wounded]

[New Finnish Republic]

LCpl. Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Matti replied to their Corpsman with a soft chuckle.

"About as much as I love spending time with you, Toran."

For a sniper, Matti was a fairly talkative guy when he could afford to be one. He got a lot of shit from the other guys, but he also threw some right back at them so everything remained fairly civil among the group, albeit with a handful of insults and comments about one another's mothers. However, when things got serious, Matti could be as quiet as a mouse.

So when Matti saw the broken bodies of the dead marines in front of him, his sly grin returned to its neutral state once again. As he passed by the marines, he whispered "To Valhalla" as a parting gift to the men and women who'd fought to the end against those alien bastards. Matti would make sure to avenge not only their deaths but the deaths of the countless other UNSC personnel who had died protecting humanity. Especially you, Simo. The thought of his deceased younger brother caused a burning sensation in Matti's left breast pocket, where his brother's dog tags were bundled up as a daily reminder of what he was fighting for.

And as they stumbled upon the group of Covenant forces who were busy with trying to finish off what must've been the remainder of the marines. This provided an excellent opportunity for him and the rest of Fireteam Lynch to get in a more advantageous position before engaging. Cover was limited, but Matti managed to secure a position behind a pillar that hadn't been too shot up. Almost immediately, the order came to fire.

Matti had an opportunity to fire at any of the Covenant members in front of him, and the prospect of taking a shot at the Elites was definitely tempting. However, from the looks of the armor on them, they must have been high-ranking officers, which meant they'd be a hell of a lot tougher to take down and it wasn't guaranteed that a single shot would take them down. So instead, Matti set his sights on the Jackal who was armed with a carbine. Matti knew just how accurate those things could be, and he decided it would be best to take him out first rather than risk him getting a pop shot off before Matti could readjust his sight on him.

So in a slow and methodical pace, Matti gently retrieved his rifle from the strap and lowered himself to the ground on his stomach. Once he was in position, he set his crosshairs center mass on the Jackal's back and flipped the safety off of his rifle. His scope was adjusted to the minimalistic zoom as possible, but even then the Jackal's body took up the entire glass making further acquisition after the initial shot nigh impossible to achieve before the remaining enemies could react. He took one last final breath before squeezing back on the trigger.

The boom of the rifle bounced against the hallway walls, making it apparent to the Covenant forces in front of them that all was not well. It was too late for the Jackal, as a gaping hole now rested in the center of his chest, blood and tissue surrounding the corpse like candy from a broken piñata. The thing let out a sound that sounded like a mix of a squawk and a gurgle, but it was clear that the alien was dead before it even hit the floor. A split second after the first shot rang out, the remainder of Fireteam Lynch opened fire, killing several Covenant and forcing the remainders to dive back into cover. His target now destroyed, Matti waited for the next target to present itself.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Corpsman Second Class Gavin Toran
Fireteam Lynch
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV
Basement

---

CSC Toran chuckled at the jab back from the squad sniper, knowing full well shit-talking was standard of any military unit, knowing how to receive and dish it back was an important part of building morale. Gavin angled his weapon back up the stairs they had came from as the commando team descended into the darkness, simply double checking as a situation this dangerous one can never be too sure. None of them were using tactical lights, given the fact that known enemy forces were ahead somewhere, no instead the troopers relied on their training and other instruments located on their helmets to illuminate the way. Soon enough they entered a hallway, littered with the gore of a previous battle. While the rest of his squadmates carefully made their way, focused on the sound of energy weapons ahead, Gavin placed his trust in them and each human he passed by stopped for a short second. He placed two fingers on the neck of the bodies, systematically searching for any Marines that may still be clinging to life, unfortunately there were none to be found, he made peace with the fact that they were no longer suffering and hefted his weapon back up to the ready position.

The order was given to fire on Loki's signal, which would be a shot with deadly accuracy of course. Gavin quietly hugged up against what remained of a concrete barrier, likely used to slow down the original Covenant attack, before bringing his rifle up and over in a smooth fashion. A small amount of infantry forces were present, pinning down Marines and slowly advancing on friendly positions, Gavin's barrel pointed towards several targets before settling on a Grunt Major, standing out with his red armor.

"Fuck this guy in particular" he thought to himself.

A shot rang out, incredibly loud likely echoed by the architecture of the facility, either way this was the signal for Fireteam Lynch to begin their assault on the Covvie bastards. His finger quickly wrapped around the trigger and slowly depressed it, sending a short burst of lead impacting into the methane tank of the Grunt, with several more moving up and finally a round embedded itself into the alien skull. Bits of bone and blue blood splattering into the ground, methane hissing away as the rest of the fireteam let loose their respective volleys. Each trooper had found their targets and blasted away at the buggers, leaving the remaining aliens to scatter for cover.

After his first burst Gavin ducked down again behind cover and felt the warmth of one or two plasma rounds fly over his head. One sharp inhale and he popped back over, seeing an Elite Zealot firing his weapon at another section of the squad, another burst of lead flew forth from Gavin and impacted against the enemy shields, flaring as it reacted to the bullets. This of course turned Gavin into target number one and he quickly jammed himself behind the concrete in a split second.

"What are we doing about them?" he yelled over the gunfire, making reference to the two elites.

[Tayner]

Lance Corporal Marc Wilson
Marat Technocal Institute, Paris IV
June 2, 2549

"Fuck me." Marc said to himself as he dove over the wooden receptionist counter while the covenant were firing behind him. He was one of the last to get cover, and had been rather exposed for the first few seconds of the ambush. He was lucky to not have been hit, but he didn't have time to worry about that, and neither did the enemy. Before he could bring his M90 CAWS to bear, a pelican swooped in and chopped up the enemy, and the others had gunned down what had remained.

It wasn't long before Mark was following his fire team up the stairs. Clegg was the first through the door, poor bastard was hit before she could say "develdog." However the fire team leader, Gunnery Sergeant Greene had wasted no time in dragging Clegg to cover and chucking a satchel charge at the enemy.

The floor shook a little as it exploded, but the roof had decided not to cave in. The covenant troops on the other side were still holding out despite almost being wiped out. An elite, major or minor (Marc couldn't tell, and didn't care if he could), was jumping from cover to cover as the other two, a grunt and jackal covered him. However, more hostiles were making their way up the staircase, adding urgency to the situation. "Hey, you, cover me." Marc said to the Marine that was next to him. "I'm going to do something ballsy."

And with that, Marc got up and sprinted as far to the left as he could, and diving behind the cover of an exposed vent. He peeked up to see a couple Marines putting fire down on the remaining covvies. Marc vaulted the vent and rounded the corner of another AC unit to come within a few meters of the elite.

He didn't think, he just did. The first buckshot ripped into the plasma repeater, sending it flying out of the elite's hand, a few stray projectiles causing the elite's sheild to come alive with color. Marc didn't release the trigger, instead just pumping the shotgun at hip level while the elite recoiled from the first shot. The second shot found it's way to the elite's chest, sending it back a step as it's sheilding flared again before the angered elite withdrew their secondary weapon.

"Aww shit."

After hearing the distinct sound of an energy sword come to life, Marc fired a third shot and tactically withdrew from the situation before the elite could impale him with their weapon. His third shot didn't have much effect, and Marc jumped from behind the cover and back to where his fellow soldiers were, with the elite in tow. At least now before he got impaled in the back by an energy sword, Marc had the chance to live as he had drawn the elite out of cover and into the sights of a fire team of teir one special operators and a squad of pissed off marines.

"On my six!" He yelled to his brothers in arms as he ran towards the nearest cover, hoping they could gun down the elite before he was turned into a nice dish of diced meat.

[Ubaria]

Sergeant Chae-Won Shin
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2529

The dancing light of plasma fire rapidly illuminated the darkened expanse of the cavernous basement, the pulsating hue of green and blue plasma picked out all kinds of interesting shapes hidden in the gloom, including the fallen Marines and Covenant that littered the floor in various states of dismemberment and disfigurement, obviously the heavy fighting had ceased and only a few holdouts remained. Fireteam Lynch crept forward like predatory animals, stalking the unaware Covenant at the end of the hallway, too busy concentrating on the enemy infront than watching their rear quarters, it afforded the BLACK operatives a considerable amount of ground before Kotze ordered them to a halt. Shin took a knee and kept his sights firmly on the end of the hallway, sizing up the enemy.

"Go on your mark. Make it count."

Loki was to open the engagement with a shot from his Sniper Rifle. The powerful weapon was deafening in the confines of the basement, the sound dampening helmet did little to alleviate the piercing clap just as much as the Jackal's armor did little to alleviate the round from blowing through its chest cavity like it was made of nothing. Element of surprise attained, the rest of Lynch snapped to action and started letting off their own weapons into the crowd of Covenant that were only just reeling from the first blow, Shin had picked an easy target first which was a Grunt that had just been plastered in his comrades entrails. The small beast let out a whooping yell when the first bullet took crashed through the methane tank on its back, propelling it at a quite the velocity against the adjacent wall with a sickening thud, signifying its neck (or equivalent) had snapped which left its head lolling to one side when the corpse eventually came to a halt.

Enraged by the incompetence of his underlings, the Elite Zealot let out a blood curdling growl that was recognizable to any UNSC servicemen unfortunate enough to be caught on the receiving end of an angry Sangheili. The towering figure swatted aside his counterpart and stormed forward into the fray of bullets, each round glancing of it's energy shielding with an electrifying crackle to which it was unphased, even the DMR failed to pierce the protective bubble and soon enough the Zealot bound forward unleashing a shot from its concussion rifle which landed just feet away from Shin who rolled to counter the blow. Concrete and melted tiles rained down on the soldier and he continued to fire off his DMR even though he wasn't quite sure if he was hitting or not, the rounds blowing off everything from the floor to the ceiling. Soon enough the Elite Zealot had gained enough momentum and was upon Shin like a frenzied animal, clawing at his rifle in an attempt to wrench it from him and bring down a killing blow.

"Someone...get this son of a bitch...off me!" Shin yelled frantically, torn between reaching for his sidearm or forfeiting the rifle in favor of attempting escape.

Code: Select all

Sergeant Chae-Won Shin -> Killed -> Grunt Minor (DMR)
Elite Zealot -> Attacking -> Sergeant Chae-Won Shin (Melee)



[New Finnish Republic]

LCpl. Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Matti was about to line up another shot on one of the handful of grunts that had survived the initial ambush when the Elite Zealot came rushing in through the hail of gunfire. It's shield lit up as the BLACK operatives tried to stop it in its tracks. Unfortunately, the Elite's shield held through the barrage of gunfire and had tackled Shin to the ground. The Elite was clawing away at the Seargent's weapon in an attempt to disarm him, effectively pinning Shin on the ground as he did. Unless someone did something soon, that Elite was gonna rip Shin's face off.

Matti swore out loud before swinging his rifle around towards the Elite. Even at this range, he doubted he could kill the damn thing, but he knew he could at least put its shields down. At this close of range, his sights were going to be useless, so instead, he did his best to line up the end of the barrel to where the elite was. Please don't kill Shin by accident, he thought as he squeezed the trigger.

Once again, the resounding gunshot filled the area as the 5.4 mm round left the barrel and proceeded to ricochet into a nearby wall thanks to the Elite's shield. However, while it may have deflected the shot, the overwhelming force of the projectile destroyed the shielding, leaving the Elite exposed. The Elite, realizing this, turned around to address the new threat, but it was met with 20 cm of steel as Matti drove his knife into the Zealot's eye. The alien screamed in pain as it tried to shake Matti off of it, who was still hanging on with one hand to the blade as the much taller Elite lifted him into the air. Reaching with his other hand, he retrieved his sidearm, placed the barrel onto the chest of the Elite, and then proceeded to unload the magazine into the alien's chest. The Elite didn't take this without a fight, as it smashed Matti against a concrete pillar in an attempt to get him off, but the damage was done, and as the last bullet entered its chest, the alien collapsed to the ground, carrying Matti with it as it did.

Panting heavily, Matti looked up to Shin and gave him a small wink before trying to get up to return fire at the remaining Covenant forces. Unfortunately for the sniper, the movement caused a sharp pain to erupt from his side, forcing him to sit back down behind the cover. He cursed out loud as he realized he'd likely broken a rib. He glanced over to their Corpsman, who was still busy engaging the enemy.

"Hey, Toran! Some fucking help over here would be appreciated!"

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Corpsman Second Class Gavin Toran
Fireteam Lynch
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV
Basement

---

Gunpowder and hot brass filled Gavin's nostrils as he depressed the trigger on his rifle once more, projecting a shower of hatred unto the other Elite he was exchanging rounds with. The bastard was using cover in conjunction with his shields, making him a much harder target to eliminate, something was off though. As the Corpsmans head came up over cover again to fire, the Elite Zealot who was there one moment, shields flaring as the Fireteam attempted to bring him down, nothing to focus on now however, he Gavin had his target and he needed to do his best to destroy it with the utmost prejudice.

More plasma. Toran was just about to pop back up when he heard the familiar voice of his teams marksman, Loki, his head turned in the direction of the mans voice. An Elite lay on the ground, purple blood oozing from its dozens of exit wounds, mere inches away, between another half wall of concrete and a pile of twisted rebar and concrete chunks lay Loki, breathing heavily and propping himself up on the barrier. The Corpsman took a moment, timing the bolts of plasma flying towards his team and quickly sprinted over to the Lance Corporal, putting down his rifle and taking off his aid bag.

"Yeah let the long range guy take out a close quarters target, fucking genius" quipped Gavin.

Getting to work, he pushed the snipers hand away from his torso and tugged at the armor, unbuckling the straps and pulling the front plate off, down next to the weapons of the two troopers. Upon lifting up the combat shirt underneath, he gently touched the ribcage, sending his patient into a curl away from him, along with a quick yelp of pain. Definitely broken rib, bruising was already starting to form, he reached into his bag and produced an elastic bandage and a smaller biofoam canister. First he applied a layer of the medical foam over the rib in question, then took the badnage gently wrapping it around the wounded mans torso working through him jerking around from the pain. After which the Corpsman pulled a small syringe out and held it up.

"Ok that biofoams gonna give you some localized anesthetic and its important for you to breathe deep, otherwise some shits gonna form in your lungs. Now I've got some of the good stuff. You gonna be able to stay in the fight with this in you?" he questioned, motioning to the morphine, albeit a small amount.

[Beiarusia]

Major Ezekiel Kotze
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

The Covenant had fought hard against the ambush, very nearly killing Lance Corporal Lehkoken in one final, desperate bid to turn the odds in their favor, but the special forces held strong and quickly mopped up what was left. A Grunt Minor was gunned down by Private Napier, the creature's internal organs shredded in a hail of armor-piercing bullets. Major Kotze ended the battle, stepping up with his machine gun and liquifying the unfortunate Grunt Minor standing in his way before turning his attention to the Elite Major, draining the entire magazine into the alien's shields and, once those failed, into the alien's abdomen, the heavy rounds ripping apart the Elite which only managed to yell in agony as its body was cut apart. The gunfire only stopped once his ammo had run dry, after which everything was already dead.

"Hold here in case they had any friends," Kotze ordered, lowering his weapon and stepping towards the engineering lab where the ONI field operative was hold up. He yelled out that friendlies were coming in and was greeted by three marines looking worse for wear. The younger ones looked foolishly grateful to see him.

Their sergeant stepped up to greet Kotze with a simple nod. Johnson, according to the name badge on his chestplate. "What took you so damn long? Almost had to go out and beat those bastards with the butt of my rifle."

"Welcome party at the door," answered the BLACK commander.

Sergeant Major Avery Johnson peered past Kotze and out into the concourse. He didn't seem entirely impressed with what he saw but neither was he unimpressed. "Expected a battalion. Spook said he was important, guess not as much as he though, huh."

"No need for insults," said the ONI field operative as he emerged from where he had been taking cover behind a cabinet. Unassuming but with a pointed face that made him appear as trustworthy as a fox in a chicken coop. Civilian clothing with a kevlar vest worn over top. Useless, but probably made him feel better at the very least. He carried an M6 sidearm and moved with all the confidence of a man accustomed to danger. He approached Kotze with an odd look to his dark eyes. "I don't think we've met. I'm the spook, though I'd prefer if you called me Mars. Quasar, I presume, which makes you Major Kotze. I do hope the Covenant didn't give you too much trouble."

The major was unconcerned with pleasantries. "You had information."

Mars gave a disconcerting grin before reaching for a datapad secured within his satchel. "Of course. An X on the map if you must know. Could be anything. A researcher here was helping to decipher it. He's dead now, but he did the job." Before Kotze could even consider grabbing the datapad Mars had already returned it to its place. "Intel stays with me."

They prepared to move out. Fireteam Lynch was back on its feet despite the injury and, what more, the marines had with them something that could prove useful. Sergeant Johnson and his men had captured a crate of plasma grenades during the initial assault. ONI was interested in studying the weapons, specifically looking for ways to counter their adhesive properties, so Mars had seen fit to bring the catch along if only as an afterthought. They had more than enough to spare and several had been tossed to the special forces unit in case an explosive answer was needed later on. Two men were required to lift the crate, but the marines were practically out of ammunition as it was, thus only Sergeant Johnson and Mars were in any position to fight if need be.

Kotze gathered his team. They would lead the way up to the rooftop and to the LZ. He radioed ahead to Fireteam Wyvern. "Greene, we have the VIP and are en route. You better have that LZ secured when we get there."

---

FIRETEAM WYVERN
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

The fight was still raging across the rooftop as Fireteam Wyvern attempted to secure the area. An assault from behind had been prevented thanks to Lieutenant Kovac and a handful of marines, but the Covenant still alive were proving quite difficult to kill, infuriatingly so. The Grunt Minor was cowering behind an AC unit whereas the Jackal Major was taking shots whenever a break in gunfire allowed it to. Lance Corporal Wilson had baited the Elite Major and was now being run down with an Energy Sword only inches from his back. Another swing and the man would be missing his head. Sergeant Loy put fire into the Elite, draining its shields and forcing it to rethink its strategy now that it was exposed. Using the Energy Sword to absorb some of the blows, the Elite fell back into cover, allowing Lance Corporal Wilson a chance to escape. Unfortunately, the Elite was near the body of his comrade, and more specifically near the comrade's weapon. The sword had been drawn and demanded blood, but it would be foolish to not take advantage of a chance to thin the humans. Energy Sword in one hand and Plasma Repeater in the other, the Elite dashed back as it had in an attempt to flank the humans, returning fire as it went. A marine was caught in the chest by a bolt of plasma and killed. Sergeant Loy took a glancing blow to the shoulder.

A few more meters and it would be a massacre.

FIRETEAM LYNCH
Private Napier (Assault Rifle) > Grunt Minor (PP) Killed
Major Kotze (LMG) > Grunt Minor (PP) Killed / Elite Major (PRr) Killed

FIRETEAM WYVERN
Sergeant Loy (DMR) > Elite Major (ES)
Elite Major (ES/PRr) > Marine (Assault Rifle) Killed / Sergeant Loy (DMR) Injured

[Ubaria]

Sergeant Chae-Won Shin
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2529

Face to face with the offending Elite, Shin's visor was finely misted by the perspiration emerging from the maw of the angered alien as it snarled. The thing was hellbent on killing him and it almost succeed, managing to bring its fist crashing down into Shin's sternum which rendered him unable to maintain grip on his weapon and swiftly it was flung halfway across the room with a clatter, just as the Sangheili sparked up his Energy Sword with terrifying glee, a thunderous clap slammed into the Elite's shields, breaking them instantly and rendering the alien vulnerable. Distracted, the Zealot turned its head to face the source of the offending bullet and as it did, Shin bucked forward and drove his elbow into one of its mandibles which jerked its head sideways and into a falling blade of steel, landing directly into the Elites eye socket.

Before the Elite could bring its spare hand around, still clutching the energy sword, Shin darted forward and pinned its limb to the floor whilst Matti dug the blade deep into the writhing Zealots skull, finishing the job with a magazine full of .50 SAPHE rounds from his Magnum. Not defeated so easily, the Elite made a final move to throw Matti into a nearby pillar, Shin also was flung backwards as it flailed around in pain, dropping the sword when it finally was bought crashing down to the floor in a pool of purple blood.

"Quicker next time" Shin dryly joked and retrieved his DMR from several feet away, pausing by the hilt of the de-activated energy sword in contemplation, the weapon was too unwieldy for his small hands and so he decided to leave it in place, though it would have made for a great memento.

By the time Shin had bought himself back into the battle, it had ended. Several grunts lay torn to ribbons, the other Elite too which had gone down easier than its higher ranking counterpart. Shin formed up at the rear of the formation and kept a keen eye on their six, incase more decided to join the battle from behind. Mumbled voices could be heard from behind before Kotze returned with what presumably was the ONI spook, along with his marine entourage. Interestingly enough they had also hauled out with them a cache of plasma grenades, the purple orbs felt strange in human hands but remained a potent weapon nonetheless. Shin studied the purple sphere closely, noting the strange glyph etched into its surface as well as an apparent activation button.

"This our intel?" Shin remarked, half sarcastically whilst juggling a single grenade in his hand.

[Anowa]

FIRETEAM WYVERN
Sergeant Loy (DMR) > Elite Major (ES)
Elite Major (ES/PRr) > Marine (Assault Rifle) Killed / Sergeant Loy (DMR) Injured[/size][/blocktext][/box]

GySgt Wyatt Greene
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

The introduction of a sword wielding elite certainly spiced things up a bit. The fact that no one had taken out the remaining jackal or grunt otherwise reflected... poorly, on the state of the squad.

"You have grenades you lazy fucks! Use them!"

Aiming at the weapon of the sole Jackal, Wyatt fired a burst, cleanly taking it off as it moved to fire, leaving a broken and bleeding stump, and a ruined gun to leak radiation and heated gas. At the witnessing of his comrade go down, the Grunt began to panic, trying to get closer to his commander. Leaving quite a few openings for another burst to be fired. It wasn't a body hit, but it nailed the fucker's methane tank. A bright blue wash of flame exploded across the roof, shredding a ventilation tube.

All that was left was the Split-Jaw. Un hooking one of the M9s from his belt, he primed it, before giving a toss towards the Sangheili's cover. As designed, the fuse only activated after it struck an object, be it a wall, the floor, the ceiling, or one of your buddies. One could cook it by whaking it hard enough after priming it, but that was a good way to remove your hand.

That being said, the Elite jumped free of cover before it detonated, only managing to collapse it's shields a second time, though this time it was largely out of cover. "Kill that Dino fuck, NOW!"

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GySgt. Greene: BR-55 (Burst) --> Jackal Major (C) [Incapacitated]
GySgt. Greene: BR-55 (Burst) --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: M9 HEDP --> Elite Major (PRr/ES) [Deshielded]


[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Corpsman Second Class Gavin Toran
Fireteam Lynch
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV
Basement

---

As the firefight ended and the Marines made themselves clear, Gavin quickly went to work double checking the bodies of fallen Marines in the basement, again, no luck. Thankfully there was still more of the mission ahead and he was able to utilize that to keep his mind clear and focused, his next step would be to check their kit and bags for any spare medical supplies. Tourniquets, some gauze and another biofoam container, plus a few spare mags for his weapon and a pistol mag for Loki, enough to top them up. The Corpsman slapped a fresh mag into his rifle and handed the newfound pistol magazine to Loki, before witnessing most of Black team take some plasma grenades.

"Please for the love of god be careful with those" he groaned in anticipation of treating plasma burns.

Toran placed himself directly behind Major Kotze, and began to move at the same pace of the team, checking his sectors of fire as they moved, his heart finally slowing from the earlier firefight. He knew some of the guys who hadn't seen as intense of combat before would be hurting from the adrenaline surge after all this was over, but gunfire from further out in the building brought his mind back to the present.

[New Finnish Republic]

LCpl. Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

"If I can ace the PT test drunk, I think I can manage a broken rib or two."

Matti gave a small grin as gingerly got up from the ground. Whatever Toran did, he must've done a damn good job at it, since the previous excruciating pain had been reduced to a dull soreness in his sides. Still, Matti knew that this feeling would only last so long, and if he took any more damage or took too long to go see an actual doctor, he'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble.

Their VIP was about everything Matti excepted from an ONI Spook. He seemed unconcerned that several men and women had died protecting his ass and whatever the hell he had on that datapad. Several months prior, this would've enraged Matti, but ever since he started working under ONI, things like this didn't even faze him. Instead, he simply shrugged it off and got ready to move out.

After reloading his pistol with the fresh mag Toran gave him, Matti got in formation with the rest of the unit as they began to make their way back to the LZ. Fireteam Wyvern was supposed to have cleared it for them in advance, but the sound of gunfire made it clear that they had yet to do that. A small sigh escaped Matti as he prepared for yet another firefight.

[Greater Dmanian]

Code: Select all

GySgt. Greene: BR-55 (Burst) --> Jackal Major (C) [Incapacitated]
GySgt. Greene: BR-55 (Burst) --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: M9 HEDP --> Elite Major (PRr/ES) [Deshielded]


Ensign Anthony Morton
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Greene's well placed shots took the pressure off Morton as the hail of suppressing fire eased off, he sighed in relief as the glowing slag that his cover had been transformed into began to cool. Snapping up at the sound of the grenade detonating and the now familiar sound of a energy shield collapsing he slid from cover and snapped his rifle to the Elite's exposed form. The rifle kicked into his shoulder as he peppered the Elite with a series of bursts. It fought to stay on it's feet as sparks erupted from it's covenant armour saving it initially as every shot found it's mark. The creature roared as the continuous hail found gaps or simply punched through the dented armour sending spurts of it's precious purple blood across the grey roof.

He shifted his aim up to it's head, more blood welled as pockmarks were cut in to it's grey skin. Sparks and ricochets flew off it's curved helmet. highlighting it's shaded face, his ammo counter in the corner of his HUD ticked down to Zero when the last shot caught one of it's outstretched mandibles tearing it off and sending it spinning in a blurry arc behind the Elite's shoulder. Click His weapon fell silent as he watched the Elite still standing although far more shakily, it attempted to raise it's plasma rifle at Morton. His heart skipped a beat and he felt his blood run cold, he stood as still as a statue in the open, eyes wide in surprise unable to will his body to save itself and reach cover. It's grip failed halfway and the Sangheili fell to it's knees in a rapidly growing pool of purple before listing to the side and going still.

"Stubborn bastards ain't they", Morton remarked the words catching in his throat as he realised he had been holding his breath, rapping his helmet and shaking his head he quickly shifted to a new position, pausing to calm his breathing he snapped back into his training and in a fluid motion reloaded his rifle.

[Beiarusia]

Major Ezekiel Kotze
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Greene and his men were just finishing up (the wounded Jackal having been killed by Lance Corporal Zabinski) when Fireteam Lynch and the VIP filed onto the roof. Perimeter secured, Major Kotze went about contacting Dawkins. "Package secure; waiting for evac."

The A.I. was quick to respond. "How expeditious of you. Transports are inbound to your position, so just hold tight."

True to his word it wasn't long before a duo of lumbering Pelicans appeared above them: Echo-205 and Echo-932. The former descended to touch down atop the institute, the other remaining airborne as it circled lazily, weapons at the ready should any threat show itself. Sergeant Johnson and his marines (and the crate of plasma grenades) were the first aboard. Mars paused as he stepped onto the lowered ramp, turning to give the BLACK operatives a final farewell that was decidedly narcissistic. "I thank you for the assistance, but I do hope we don't meet again. At least not under these circumstances." Kotze merely grumbled a response and Mars, seemingly satisfied, ducked into the blood tray as the clamshell door closed. The Pelican ascended and the two were soon making way out of the city.

"Looks like a mission accomplished," Dawkins commented over the comm. "Things are not going so well up here, so needless to say we will be leaving soon enough. Anderson is on his way. With any luck we should be leaving the system before the Covenant begins glassing the planet."

The pilot soon hailed them as he approached. "This is Lima seven-eight-nine. On approach."

The black-painted Pelican was descending, more streamlined and lacking the external guns of most other transports. Designed more for stealthy insertions than direct combat. Otherwise it functioned much the same. A few meters from landing there was a flash of green as superheated plasma struck the starboard side. The matte exterior peeled away as the pilot aborted the landing, skillfully avoiding a second shot as the plasma went wide.

"LZ is hot! Coming back around."

Across the avenue a squadron of Covenant could be seen moving across the rooftop of a squat building. Armored Grunts hefting Fuel Rods were taking potshots at the Pelican as it moved away, whereas Jackals were moving to attack the humans. Immediately the soldiers were back in cover as the first shots were fired their way. A young marine took a round to the arm, fell, and was quickly dragged to safety as Major Kotze covered his plight with a long burst of his machine gun before being forced back down by plasma.

"Enemy across the road! Take 'em out!" Major Kotze yelled over the gunfire.

[Ormata]

Lieutenant Vjenceslav Kovac, FIRETEAM WYVERN
Paris IV - Avon - Marat Technical Institute
June 2nd - 2549

Kovac watched as the bastards down the road opened fire. Shit. For one thing, their ride was very, very much delayed now and that was annoying to a degree. Well. Annoying was one feeling he could feel, though the other one was gratitude. The shot could’ve killed their pilot, murdered the engines, caused a hull break, any number of things that would mean another Pelican would come and possibly come too late. Was just a glancing blow, he told himself, just a glancing blow. For another thing, though…

He had the wrong goddamned weapon. Fucking hell.

"Enemy across the road! Take 'em out!"

“You, you, stay with Clegg and don’t fucking die,” Kovac said, issuing-out his own orders to two of the Marines, the guys nearly glad they wouldn’t be having the joyous time of, say, going outside or something like that. “Pvt. Erikkson, leg?” A medic was beside him, patching the guy’s leg up.

“It’ll be fine. Fucking A,” was what the Corpsman said, shaking her head and wrapping it up. “Goddamn bastards.”

The adrenaline was still pumping and it felt way too damn hot in there. Moving out of the stairwell, he took cover behind the little wall on the rooftop, shotgun laid-down aside it before drawing his M6. It was the kind of pistol that had more range and kick than it probably should.

He aimed it between the crack in the wall, breathing deeply and letting the stubby barrel poke through the dust and soot, the other Marine beside him before getting-up against the wall, bracing her rifle across it before firing a short burst. For her trouble she got Jackals firing, all three of them. The first two shots impacted against the wall, the smell of burnt concrete filling the air, the third hitting her in the helmet, square on it, ricocheting up into the air.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” was her response, dropping-down against the wall as the Jackals continued their short bursts of two or three.

Kovac’s retort was less so, firing three bullets in slow succession. One Jackal had been dropping behind cover, the round going through said cover, completely ignoring it. Another round hit a Grunt driving through the body, blood spattering against the ground. The third round hit another Grunt, Fuel Rod Gun falling to the ground.

Dropping down to pause as the Covenants opened fire, Kovac shook his head. Fucking hell, these Covenant. “C’mon,” he said, motioning to the Marine to move as he crouched, picking his shotgun up in one hand and following the length of the wall in case they shot their damn Fuel Rods where they were.

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Lt. Kovac: M6 Pistol --> Grunt Minor (PP)
Lt. Kovac: M6 Pistol --> Jackal Minor (C)
Lt. Kovac: M6 Pistol --> Grunt Heavy (FR)

[New Finnish Republic]

LCpl. Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Matti let out a frustrated groan as their ride suddenly came under intense fire from across the street.

"Of fucking course there's more Covenant. There's always more Covenant!"

The sniper continued to swear as he dove down behind the small concrete wall. The action did not come without consequences, as even with the anesthetics kicked in, pain still shot up his sides. He bit down hard on his lip, so much in fact that he could feel blood beginning to run down his chin. He looked over to their Corpsman, who was also trying to get into cover.

"Jesus, Toran! Do a better job next time or just finish me off and put a bullet in my head. None of this in between bullshit!"

Still, even with the pain, Matti was already going to work on eliminating the Covenant reinforcements. From the looks of it, it was the standard Covenant element consisting mostly of Grunts, supported by Jackals, and led by a pair of Elites. Fireteam Wyvern's CO, Kovac, had already gotten the party started by taking out a trio of the aliens, but unfortunately for the humans, there were still a plethora of targets to choose from.

Matti, knowing that without their leadership the lower-tier Covenant would scatter, set his sights on the Elites. He soon found one of them barking out orders to the Grunts, likely trying to get them to focus their fire on the still bunched up humans. While any Elite was something to be reckoned with, he definitely preferred engaging the Minors, as their shields were often not as tough as their superiors, and thus shots to the torso would almost always incapacitate if not outright kill within the first shot as long as he hit square on. Matti flipped the safety, lined up the sights on the Elite's upper chest, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger.

His aim, like it often was, was right on target. The .50 caliber armor-piercing round had no difficulty smashing through the Elite Minor's shields and armor, leaving a fist-sized crater where its collar bone used to be located. Much to Matti's delight, the killing of the Elite caused even more damage, as the Fuel Rod armed Grunt next to him, startled by his commander's insides being splattered all over, accidently discharged his weapon into the wall in front of him. The subsequent explosion killed said Grunt as well as injured another Grunt that had been standing next to him. That wasn't all. The explosion caused a portion of the cover the Covenant had been using to be destroyed, exposing several other aliens to gunfire.

The humans didn't waste their opportunity, as one of the marines next to Matti filled the chest of one of the Jackals with a magazine from his Assault Rifle. The remaining exposed Covenant, realizing that they were next, relocated to more suitable cover before anyone could line up another shot on them.

One Sangheili down, another to go. Now, where are you, you blue bastard? Matti scanned the rooftop, but he was unable to find where the remaining Elite was. It must've realized that it was being targetted, and while the Elites were extremely brave, they weren't stupid. Matti continued to scan around, but between the chaos of the battle and having to duck behind cover after the occasional Fusion Rod blast came his direction, Lynch's sniper was unable to get a bead on where it was at. Frustrated, Matti screamed above the roar of battle.

"Anyone know where that other blue fucker is at?!"

[Anowa]

GySgt Wyatt Greene
Marat Technical Institute, Avon, Paris IV, Paris system / June 2, 2549

Everyone else scrambled.

Wyatt didn't, after almost two decades of clearing Covie out of civvie structures. Most of the time it included damaging the structure as well, as either asset denial, to collapse it so Covie didn't have a certain route, or simply because they were all in the building. He'd blown up quite a lot. And while everyone else was scrambling to kill those on the top of the building, Greene looked below.

The building itself was only lightly shelled, but there were still holes here and there. One hole in particular catching his eye.

The visor on his helmet washed to a deep blue as the VISR module came to life, outlining everything in green, red, or orange. Even so far as to outline the support column behind a desk hidden by the smoke of a plasma fire. The hole that let the column be witnessed was only about as big as a mongoose. But he'd been taking tanks out since he was just a kid. A hole that big was no issue for a spanker rocket.

Pulling the double-tube from it's magnetically locked place on his ruck, he primed the safety and called out as he got into a crouch, "Clear backblast!"

A few marines surrounding him looked to him, and then behind him, before one called out, "Backblast clear!"

less than a moment later, the first rocket was away, then the second. There was a duo of booms, blowing out what little glass the opposite building still had, before a deep rumbling sounded.

The west half buckled under the strain. SLowly shifting, before it could take no more and fully dropped with an almighty rumble. Dust plowed through the air as a number of the Covies on top tumbled down to their deaths under tons of reinforced concrete. The east half tilted, and for a moment it looked like it too was going to go. But it paused, and finally stopped in a leaning position. A very precarious position for the Covies indeed.

"You all know what to do!" Greene simply sat down for a moment, seeing his job as all but done. Mop up was hardly any fun anyway.

---

Code: Select all

GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Elite Minor (PR) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Jackal Minor (C) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Heavy (FR) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Heavy (FR) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Major (N) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]
GySgt. Greene: Indirect Fire --> Grunt Minor (PP) [Killed]