Halo: Twilight (IC|AU|Closed)

[Anowa]

Halo: Twilight

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>>OOC<<
>Theme<
>Halo Discord<
>Halo: Trepidation<
>Halo: Penumbra<
OP: Anowa
Co-OP: Beiarusia

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TO3 Sam Marcus
Location Unknown, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Cryo Two.
September 19, 2552 // 0127 Military Standard Time
A Sullen Plunge...

"Sam, you gotta hurry up, they're breaking through the goddamned door!"

Thom had never sounded quite as scared as he just was. A dozen feet above, looking through reinforced glass, and even through an intercom, Sam knew the man was resolute in what was about to happen. Sam on the other hand wasn't quite ready to die, he still had Ellen, his wife to come home to. He kept pressing keys on the small pedestal in front of him. His right arm aching from the grisly plasma burn on his tricep, going all the way to the bone. But he soldiered on.

The sound of plasma burning through the door behind him put him through to overdrive. A few more key presses and the status bar on the pedestal lit up in a positive glow. he gave a half hearted cry of glee as he turned, the door busting open, a team of split jaws and grunts walking through. His left hand went to his belt, grasping his M6 he brought it lazily to bear, pain and fatigue pulling any sense of purposeful aim out of his grasp. He started firing, in a vain attempt to ward off his attackers. All the while he basically stumbled back and took a spot behind the only empty cryo pod in the room. All the others were full of the members of Blue Team, and the few other Army, Marine, and Navy personnel they pulled back with them.

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MCPO Ingrid-045
Location Unknown, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Cryo Two.
September 19, 2552 // 0127 Military Standard Time

Ingrid heard gunfire, sounds of combat, yelling, screaming. That alone wasn't an oddity to the woman, she was born to kill, bred for war, and trained to revel in fights. What was the oddity was that she was supposed to be in cryo sleep. Your senses didn't work in cryo sleep, and you didn't dream either. Meaning she was being woken up, and what she heard was not the serene calm a cryo bay was supposed to have.

Her body still hadn't woken up fully yet, the damages that could be caused otherwise would be, in some cases, fatal. But the people she had fought with to get to the Autumn needed her. So she willed herself into movement, her body screaming to stop, she ignored it, told it to sit town for ten minutes and exploded into action.

A frost covered tube veritably exploded as seven and a half foot tall beast busted open the cryo tube she had stuffed herself and nearly 750 pounds of armor into. Her skin rippling with discomfort, she surveyed the scene in others might confuse with Planck time. Billy called it 'Bullet Time', an old reference to an equally older game. She spotted 12 hostiles, 7 in immediate sight, 4 Elites, the rest cannon fodder. All of them in a state of either butchering, or finishing their butchery, of people who had just woken up. Tubes opened, and bodies scrawled across the ground. Directly ahead was an Elite Minor holding someone, her vision still slightly blurred, her HUD came to her rescue, the neural implant the smaller trooper had registering her as 'RIER'. She was green, and in a sense, reminded Ingrid of herself in her very first days under the tutelage of Mobuto. She didn't deserve to die, no one here did, and yet here they were.

Ingrid' arm snapped upwards, grabbing the lid to her cryo tube, while her right leg stepped off. She could feel the plating buckle beneath her foot as she willed an ungodly amount of force into moving herself, her armor, and her improvised weapon forward faster than that plasma rifle's projectile could hit Maple's head. SHe knew she wouldn't intercept, but the lid could. Adjusting her stance in a microsecond, her arm whipped forward, carrying nearly a hundred and fifty pounds of titanium and reinforced glass with it. At the apex she released, and the door flew forward, it's edge impacting the elite's arm with the force that shattered it's shielding, and lacerated a good portion of the arm with it. It's size created an impromptu barrier between the Elite and the young trooper, now released to fall.

Ingrid' perception of time returned to normal, well, her normal at least. It was still leagues ahead of what everyone else perceived. She stepped forward, half a ton of weight focussed into a single footfall echoing around the chamber, her hand snapping forward into the bewildered split-jaw's eye socket, the sound of crumpling bone and metal reaching her ears in an long instant. Once again her hand gripped the metal and glass of the cryo pod door, whipping it around at a yellow dot on her motion tracker. Her eyes caught up with her movement to see a red silhouette reacting rather quickly to the event that just transpired. Elites were as strong, as fast, and almost even more durable than SPARTANs. But they couldn't react and act as quick as their human counterparts could.

So the bloody thing basically ate the metal and glass object, jamming right between his duo of mandibles. At that point, everyone in the room had clued in, alien and human alike. Ingrid; hand went to her waist, strapped to her left hip was a twelve inch knife, titanium made, serrated, and ready to gut any poor bastard that was going to attempt to tangle with her. And as the Covies did, they always tried, always failed.

The first elite, Minor, charged at her with reckless abandon, either not hearing the tales, or believing himself worthy. Regardless, Ingrid acted. His arm came down in an attempt to bop her over the head with his plasma rifle. She sidestepped, and as the arm swung by, Ingrid swept his leg, sending him reeling as her arm came down, knife in hand upon the back of his skull, a sickening squelch resounding in response. As the xeno's rotation continued, Ingrid pulled back on the knife, with ease it came out. Plasma fire splashed across her shielding, and she directed her attention to such. Another Minor, smarter than his prior comrade, but still no where near as deadly as he could've been. Shame.

Ingrid let her shield tank the damage as she closed the distance. The grunts either making way out of fear, or already panicked from the deaths of two of their leaders in such a short time frame. She tackled the alien to the ground, it's shielding flared as his weapon fell free. A section of his gauntlet lit up with a miniature plasma blade. Ingrid's free hand slammed down on the arm, breaking the shielding and it's gauntlet, shaping the arm into an uncomfortable mangled mess. Her knife once again tasted flesh as it was jammed upwards into the alien's mouth, poking into it's brain and killing it, if not now, than later.

As Ingrid turned to the last, red, Elite in the room, Ingrid found herself not within her rights to react to it's threat. Firstly, because a weapon had been tossed her way by a wounded technician, and secondly, because Grim would never shut up about having his kill stolen.

The elite collapsed as the aged man started hammering away at it's neck with a combat knife, breaking through the shielding with surprising ease, and further doing damage by reciprocating the knife in and out of what Ingrid could only assume was the alien's collection of jugular and carotid arteries. It went down without much fight.

Ingrid, now fully armed, along with Grim and a few others who happened to sleep with their armor on and knives, mopped up the remaining grunts. Within moments the bay was clear and everything came reeling back to a human speed for Ingrid. A corpsman was tending to the technician, and most everyone in the bay was still alive. And then Ingrid remembered something.

With a wet and ragged cough, the bronchial surfactant located in her lungs finally came free. It settled in her mouth for a moment, as Ingrid gave a small grin before swallowing. One thing she remembered from her childhood was a distinct like for sour things. And with the goo that covered her lungs came the flavor of lime. It wasn't something she got too often, citrus fruit pretty much didn't exist in her diet, hell, they didn't even exist on the ships much nowadays, replaced by vitamins and supplements in the food.

Her mind reeled away from the past, back to the present, a moment passed as she checked the M6D she was gifted from the wounded tech. "Anyone who's either ready to fight, or looking for a weapon... or clothes. On me!" Her gaze cats to Rier for but a moment, registering that the girl would likely be going through some shock at the moment. Registering, but not wholly understanding.

She also watched as the eldest among them, Grim, walked over to the girl to check on her.

His voice was, well, old and weathered. Like Mobuto's but with much less gruff and much more care. "You alright kid? Wounded, or just freaked out?"

[Northern Poland]

Nicholas would wake to the sound of blaster fire, and sees the firefight start. He is wearing his Uniform, but no armor or weapons. He watches as some of the others drove them away, and he runs to his locker. He feels a sharp pain all over himself, and realises he got blisters because of the clothes, he decides to move slowly He opens his locker with his thumbprint, he finds his medical supplies, and stuffs them in their pouches. He walks over to a dead elite, taking it's Type 25 Blaster rifle. He reloads it, and he sees a wounded Marine. He walks over, seeing the plasma wound that hit him in the chest. He knows that he can't spend too much time on the Marine, so he sprays some biofoam on the wound and calls someone to take him to the infirmary. He used 1/4 of the biofoam on that wound, luckily it was a small Grunt blaster, those have less power. He has two cans of biofoam, but he knows that it won't last for long.
He then waits for orders, or a word from the Captain. Then he hears Ingrid yelling, so he moves over to her.

[Turmenista]

Ensign Thomas Bradley
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location / 2552
"Wake-up call - IWHBYD on."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"



Judging by the bloodcurdling scream filling his ears as his eyes fluttered open, Ensign Bradley's suspicions that the Autumn was under attack again were made true when he awoke to gunfire and the irritating pew-pew of plasma weaponry. The big scream in particular was probably someone about to be cleaved in half by an energy sword or - even worse - dragged off by Jackals to be eaten.

He knew otherwise. The Covenant didn't take prisoners, and in the rare times that they actually did, they were either just killed off right away or used as target practice by Jackals and skirmishers. He began to sweat profusely as he woke up in the pod, groggily groping around for anything that could even be considered a weapon in a last-minute scenario. The realization dawned upon him that he actually had no weapon at all, and his heart began to beat like an African drum as the doors opened. No weapon meant no way to deal with any Grunt, let alone an Elite, and the lockers were practically a sprint through no-man's-land away from him.

He stumbled out of the cryo pod, naked and confused as he hacked, coughed, and brought up the surfactant once, then shivered as he swallowed it once more - a routine he had since become used to in his time in the Navy, but still enough to make anyone not used to slipspace travel vomit. Groggily, he looked around the room, focusing in on a large approaching black object as he scrambled for anything he could on the cold floor.

Fortunately for him, this was no elite, but rather a 6'3", 200lb and fully nude Marine carrying a very large bowie knife with him as he screamed bloody murder at the thing he was about to slam into. His target was a tiny Grunt wielding an unmistakably familiar weapon - a needler - and by the time he had raised the gun to fire on the marine, the weapon had since gone airborne and flew away, landing coincidentally right nearby the Ensign. The lineman of a marine slammed into the grunt with a football tackle that would make even a professional player want to sit on the ground for a while, and Bradley could only watch in admiration as the marine proceeded to beat the everlasting shit out of the grunt with his bare fists. The alien cannon fodder's head dangled to the side as the marine went to town on the improvised speed bag, but Bradley quickly pulled the man off the alien, lest he die from another grunt too ballsy to avenge his friend.

The Ensign finished the Grunt off with a shot to the temple with the needler. "He's dead, Marine," Bradley quickly identified the man as PFC Billy Reeves on his dogtags. Reeves was a marine Blue Team had picked up on their way to the Autumn, and Bradley knew otherwise not to mess with the kid judging by his not-so reputable service record... according to the Covenant. He and his skill with the shotgun could come to great use later. "And you would've been too, if you stayed there. What's happening, Marine?"

"Hell if I know, sir!" Billy replied in his typical, gruff surfer boy accent. "I just woke up a minute ago and I'm already kickin' ass! But not as much as him!"

Bradley tracked the man's finger over to a 7 foot tall behemoth in a full suit of armor currently butchering a blue boy on the ground. The Elite had no chance of even touching the Spartan as her knife entered the underside of the elite's mouth and went straight through his brain, killing him instantly. But as Bradley's eyes adjusted, he assumed that the Marine was talking about a much more human figure - Sergeant Major Grim, a man that had led him and the rest of Blue Team to the Autumn when Reach had fallen. The man was a grizzled war veteran yet still fought for some reason, and was covered in just as many wrinkles as he had battle scars. Currently Grim was stabbing the hell out of a red-armored Elite with a combat knife - apparently, to good effect. The Elite crumpled down under its own weight as 3 marines ran to the aid of the Spartan and old man. Bradley, regaining much of his composure, raised his own Needler at the last remaining grunts making their last stand in the cryo bay. A few moments later, the bay was effectively cleared, and the way to the lockers was now free to go through without the risk of being shot to death by an Elite.

As the Chief rallied up everyone who was either naked or looking for weapons, Bradley tapped the Marine on his shoulder and jogged over to the lockers, memorizing the route to his own locker. Within moments, the Ensign was pulling on his familiar Recon BDU, issued exclusively to ONI operatives and other specialists that were BLACK operatives within ONISTO. Bradley's recon armor in particular included a redesigned chest plate and a completely different helmet than the regular ODST helmet BLACK operatives were known for, painted in special dark paint used to lower IR signatures. Both shoulder pauldrons were present, and the armor itself included his trusty TACPAD, which was more than capable of shutting down any computer system Bradley could get his hands on, as seen when the Salt lost control over Engineering for a few minutes in Bradley's attempt to escape a cloaked Elite boarder that wanted him dead. As he got dressed, his right hand fell over the pistol grip of his trusty M6C/S, which he had carried with him ever since he stepped off that Pelican on Everest. The silenced hand cannon had saved his life shooting at brutes and Skirmishers on Skopje, Elites and Grunts on Reach, and now, it would save his life here. After checking its ammunition and collecting any spare magazines for his sidearm that he had left, he stopped, quickly remembering something that he had done aboard the Salt...

Billy, on the other hand, opened up his locker as Bradley sprinted through the crowd of soldiers currently gearing up and salvaged a Covenant plasma pistol from the ground. As he headed back over to the Marine, he saw that Billy had wrapped his signature camouflage bandana around his head, whilst pulling on the rest of his armor. Bradley's helmet visor unpolarized as he nodded at the man currently reaching for his trusty sidearm.

"CQC, Marine. Your favorite. Make that Magnum the Covenant's worst nightmare." Bradley checked the ammunition to his own sidearm and made an estimated guess to how much the plasma pistol had left - if he was correct, the combo could effectively render any Elite shielding useless, while one or two headshots scored on a Jackal or Grunt could do the trick without needing to use the pistol. With what the Plasma Pistol was at now, he was confident with 3 or 4 kills before needing to swap it.

Billy grinned wildly as he checked his Magnum, pulling on his green HUD eyepiece as he slammed the locker shut. "Right on, man. The ultimate badass has now reawakened."

Code: Select all

ENS Thomas Bradley --> Needler [EQUIPPED]
PFC Billy Reeves (Bowie Knife/Fists) [MELEE] --> Grunt Minor (N) [STUNNED]
ENS Thomas Bradley (N) --> Grunt Minor [KILLED]
ENS Thomas Bradley / Cryo Two --> Remaining Grunts [KILLED]
ENS Thomas Bradley --> Needler [DISCARDED]
ENS Thomas Bradley --> Plasma Pistol / M6C/S [EQUIPPED]
PFC Billy Reeves --> M6D [EQUIPPED] 

[Dernland]

CWO-2 Woods

Screams of dying soldiers echoed through Ephraim's mind, accompanied by the distinct sounds of Covenant Elites barking orders and plasma weapons searing into flesh. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to take in the scene before him without drawing attention to himself. There was nothing there. Ephraim stood alone in the center of a long hallway that was filled with a bright orange flame. The sounds of battle didn't fade away, nor did the surreal sense of danger. He walked down the hallway, oblivious to the flames licking his uncovered skin. He passed a set of messages stenciled onto the wall, the while letters illuminated by the all encompassing inferno. One word jumped out at Ephraim, UNSC Magellan. This didn't make sense, he was supposed to be on the Pillar of Autumn. What the hell was going on? "I must be dreaming." He thought, his sleep addled mind began to put things together. "But you aren't supposed to dream in cryo-" The fires around him began to glow brighter and brighter, its scorching tendrils threatening to completely overtake the man. His vision filled with the flames, and now he felt his skin becoming warmer and warmer. "-sleep."

An angular, avian face grinned at Ephraim through the frosty glass of his cryo-pod. The jackal's jaw was already covered in scarlet blood and its odd grin showed bits of flesh still stuck between the jagged teeth. The human didn't have time to contemplate his situation and he sat up as well he could while still in the pod and coughed. The bitter mucous of the bronchial surfacant came loose after the second try and he reluctantly swallowed it, gagging as he did so. The Jackal was getting impatient, and began banging on the door of the pod. Ephraim couldn't hold out indefinitely, the pod didn't exactly have a lot of oxygen. He glared at the Jackal, doing the only thing he could think of.

"Noko se ja!" Ephraim shouted from inside the pod. It was Covenant speak for 'get the hell away from me', or at least he hoped so. The jackal cocked its head, looking like a confused parrot for a moment before letting out what Ephraim could only describe as a giggle. With the jackal now momentarily distracted he pulled the release on the door and shoved it upwards as hard as he could, which wasn't that hard given he just woke up from cryo-sleep. The alien screeched and stumbled backwards as the metal door slammed into the bottom of its jaw. It didn't seem to be injured much by the blow, more just surprised. Ephraim launched himself from the pod, his muscles screaming at their sudden and violent use, and he tackled the Jackal. There wasn't much of a height difference between the two, and the jackal would probably have been taller if he wasn't hunched over all the time, but Ephraim was able to knock the alien to the ground. It must've been quite the sight, a fully nude human being wrestling with a bird-like creature on the floor of a spaceship. They probably looked like some ancient Greek art-piece.

Ephraim had never been this close to a Jackal before and he noticed several key features that he would have to remember if he ever survived this. Firstly and most importantly, the alien stank like a pile of rotten fish. The smell was an assault on Ephraim's senses, tearing at his nose and making his eyes water. Secondly while the Jackal may have been equal to the human in terms of size and strength, he had claws and teeth, which Ephraim did not. He'd managed to pin one spindly arm behind the creature's back and the other to the floor, but he couldn't get his free hand near the Jackal's throat or face without it being bitten by those razor sharp teeth. Ephraim slammed his forehead into the jackal's face and grimaced as he felt the bony skin of his opponent crunch underneath the blow. The jackal whimpered and writhed underneath him as he began slamming his elbow into the stunned creatures skull. He continued until the Jackal stopped moving.

Ephraim sat on the floor breathless, trying to come to terms with the situation. Most of the Covenant were dead, mostly thanks to the gargantuan Spartan in the center of the room that had made mincemeat out of the Elites. The surviving soldiers were gathering weapons from the Covenant and he did the same, retrieving the Jackal's plasma pistol from the ground by his cryo-pod.

[Beiarusia]

Pvt. Maple Rier
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

The first memories to return are of Reach. Of the Covenant. Running, as fast as she can possibly go and then faster still as the muscles of her legs protest the dire exertion, afraid, terrified of the coming oblivion, a statistic if not for the power-armored giant. It had all happened so fast. She remembers a world burned to glass, her friends and peers slaughtered, and her own miraculous survival aboard the Pillar of Autumn. She was in cryogenics, on ice immediately after the transition into Slipspace, yet she could still hear the sounds of battle, the click of gunfire and the hiss of plasma. So close. Too close.

Maple Rier was gasping for air as the lid of her storage pod opened. Disoriented, flash unthawed, and as she struggled to make heads-or-tails of the situation, of the noise, a large four-fingered hand reached inside to snatch her by the throat. She screamed in confused panic as she was dragged out from the pod and into the coldness of the cryogenics bay. Feet kicking, hands clawing at the vice around her neck. The blue-armored Elite Minor warbled some insult in its guttural language before raising its Plasma Rifle, energy building at its junction, so close she could feel the heat on her skin. Rier gawked at the sight of the alien, wide-eyed, her thoughts too muddled by the anesthetic in her system to make sense of the nightmare she had awoken to, but she knew that she was about to die, and in response to this uncompromising fear came a trickle of warmth as she lost control of her bladder. Fortunately there wasn't much for the young private to lose.

Something heavy slammed into the Elite and Rier was dropped, landing on her backside, mouth agape as she watched the Spartan-II drop the alien before clearing the cryogenics bay of hostiles alongside a few other marines and ODST. Her eyes wandered to the scene of carnage. Men and women butchered without a shred of mercy. Rier was paralyzed.

"You alright kid? Wounded, or just freaked out?"

Rier flinched at the voice, startled, and looked up to see an older man asking if she was okay. She tried to speak, but instead she vomited the bitter surfactant until both lungs and stomach were empty. Rier was naked and covered in urine, vomit, and someone else's blood (not all of it human), but she managed to stand as adrenaline oozed into her veins. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice cracking. Too shell-shocked to bother with covering herself, she hurried over to adjacent alcove with her locker and quickly dressed — Army Desert BDU with the standard open-faced helmet, balaclava (worn down), and ballistic goggles (worn around the neck). The armored vest was a tad bit too loose and looked incomplete without the bulky shoulder pauldrons. Haphazard, but it would do.

With several deep breaths to calm her already frayed nerves, Rier hurried over to where the others were gathering around the Spartan-II. She paused to grab a discarded Plasma Rifle, the very same that had very nearly been used to end her life, and held it like she would her SMG. Unlike the M7 the alien weapon was far heavier. She stood behind the others, shaking, and feeling quite small, as well as feeling dirty without having had the time to clean herself, but she was alive nonetheless.

They were aboard the UNSC Pillar of Autumn, a Halcyon-class Light Cruiser fleeing the Reach. They obviously had been boarded, but had they reached Earth? Had the Covenant? What was happening? She asked without thinking. "Where are we?"

[Ubaria]

Specialist Anica Novak
Cyro Bay Two - Aboard the Pillar of Autumn - Unknown Location // Septermber 2552
A rude awakening

"Left flank! Left flan-"

"MAC gun is online! Get to the Autumn now!"

"Man down! I'll get this one on ship, hold the fucking line!"

"Reach is lost! I repeat, Reach has been lost! We've lost contact with FLEET-COM actual, we're leaving now!"

These were the last things a battered and bruised Anica heard before she slipped into unconsciousness moments before being dragged aboard a Pelican departing for the Autumn. Her injuries though caused by a violent explosion, were not life threatening and so, once she had been deemed medically sound, Novak had been placed into cryo whilst still in a comatose state. That had been a month ago, a long, dreamless sleep filled month with nothing but the inner workings of the human consciousness for company, that was all about to come to a crashing halt.

It took all of her strength to simply pry both her eyes open, seeing nothing for the first few seconds but her own reflection glaring back at her in the frost encrusted glass, Novak groaned in discomfort as all her muscles were suddenly flooded with unimpeded pain, her temples too, which throbbed in agony from where she had taken a blow to the head some weeks earlier. Just as Anica was coming to terms with the reality she had been thrust into, without warning, the seals of the pod broke with a deafening hiss and the protective translucent canopy was thrown open, exposing her to the world outside of her protective shell. The woman couldn't hear much through the coursing of blood past her eardrums, everything was very much an indistinguishable blur for the first few seconds.

As Anica's vision slowly focused and her hearing corrected, she attempted to clamber from the cryo pod but instead, simply flopped forward onto the cold, hard metallic floor like a fish, her skeletal system not yet correctly responding to command had simply failed, leaving her as defenseless as a newborn. From nearby, Novak slowly could make out the sounds of distinct shouting, some of it human and some unmistakably alien and when the Specialist craned her head around, she could see exactly why. An Elite, or at least it was before a blur of green and silver slammed into it, was about to make mince meat of some poor son-of-a-bitch before the Spartan figure launched a melee assault on it, and three of his friends, in a flurry of knife swings and armored fists. At the end of it, four broken elites and their underlings lay in a broken state on the Cryo bay floor.

Anica was still clueless as to where she currently was. Infact, for the most part she couldn't remember anything about herself including her own name, the last thing she remembered was being painfully gut punched by a pressure wave before being dragged through the dust and mud, an abyss of blackness shortly following. However, as the remaining survivors from the cryo bay started emerging, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly clicking firmly back into place.

"Reach ... " She finally managed to croak before heaving a throat full of phlegm and stringy vomit rush out in place of more words. Cryo wasn't something Anica had ever experienced before, since she hadn't signed up for the Navy nor had she been off-world, the experience was horrifically foreign, everything ached including her innards if such a thing were possible. Using the pod rail as a support, Novak steadily rose to her feet and wobbled over to the gathering of personnel in the corner of the room, her bare feet made a disgusting squelch as she traipsed through the mixture of alien viscera, vomit, urine and water that had slicked the floor.

"Wha ... why .... how are the Covenant here?" Anica rasped, stumbling over to what she presumed was her locker and threw open the door, piling on whatever garments lay inside. After writhing into her clothes like a drunkard trying to dress themselves, she retrieved a nearby Plasma Pistol from the hands of a dead Grunt, the unwieldy weapon was still rather large despite being labeled a pistol, it took both arms just to keep it steady.

[Independent States of Tula]

Second Lieutenant Antonina Czajkowski
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

The sounds of war were all pervasive, even in her unconscious mind they came to her, the screams of men and women fighting and dying haunting her mind as if they were right there in front of her. And then...then Antonina felt something strange, was she...naked?

"What the...?" Antonina asked aloud, surprising herself with her own groggy voice, and then her eyes opened and she became far more surprised.

She was in a cryo-stasis chamber, currently being woken up as Covenant forces began swarming the cryo room and slaughtering whoever they could get their hands on. Adrenaline began to flood through the Lieutenant's veins as her cryo chamber's door slowly opened. She rushed out the moment the door had opened enough for her to squeeze her nude body through and found herself face to face with a grunt...thankfully a dead one still clutching a plasma pistol in it's right paw and with a new hole adorning its head. Without too much thought Antonina snatched the plasma pistol and checked to see it still had about half of its charge left, more than enough to get her to the nearest armory...or so she hoped. But before she could ponder that conundrum any further the nude ODST Lieutenant was forced to jump away from a clawed swipe by an approaching jackal. When the alien bastard tried lunging at her a second time however it soon found the error of its ways in the form of two bolts of plasma creating a crater where's long-snouted face had once been.

"Fucking covvie." Antonina swore as she looked around her, the battle had ended almost as soon as it had started with Marines, Army, and Navy personnel cleaning up the few other minor covvie troops while a motherfucking Spartan of all things cleaned up the Elites.

"Anyone who's either ready to fight, or looking for a weapon... or clothes. On me!" The Spartan shortly after called out, rallying a fair number of soldiers around her, some of whom looked rather silly being fully nude yet armed for battle...though Antonina figured she too must of looked just as ridiculous.

She began to walk over before a sudden feeling in her throat that she associated with awfulness began to creep up, with a gag Antonina forcibly regurgitated that horrid substance in her lungs and forced herself to swallow, the lime-flavored mucus as Ann liked to think of it going down like a slimy anchor towards her stomach.

"Ugh, no matter how much they try to change that things flavor, it's still the worse thing about cryo-sleep." Ann muttered to herself before continuing over towards the Spartan.

As she approached a nagging feeling in the back of her mind kept trying to tell her that she was forgetting something, that she wasn't supposed to be here, that she'd been somewhere else last she was awake. Then it hit Ann like a sledgehammer...her platoon, where were they? Last she'd seen them they'd been fighting tooth and nail on Reach, and then that Brute had broken through and had charged her, it all went to black after that...had they retreated onto this ship? Ann looked around at the group of assembled survivors, unable to locate any of her platoon-mates among the sea of faces, she couldn't even find them among the few dead they'd suffered already...were they in another cryo bay? Pushing these questions to the side Ann figured she'd soon have them answered anyway, but first she need clothes, better weapons, and her armor...not necessarily in that order.

Code: Select all

2nd LT. Antonina Czajkowski --> Plasma Pistol [EQUIPPED]
2nd LT. Antonina Czajkowski --> Jackal Minor [KILLED]

[Vacif]

Specialist Holdin Crawford
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552

At first there was cold. That was what he felt first, a cold, fully encompassing cold numbness. Then a dull achy pain followed by itchiness. Cryo-itch, an unfortunate side effect of cryonics employed by older cryo-chamber models. His fingers twitched, then balled into tight fists as his body woke. His ears were assaulted by the sounds of plasma discharge, inhuman shrieks and warbles, and the grating sound of metal being torn and crushed. Holdin forced his body out of the pod while his mind was playing catch up. The world roared back to him as his body registered the icy cold touch of the deck. A brief battle raged around him as the Spartan who'd saved him on Reach dispatched a pair of Elite Minors while an odd group of mostly naked UNSC personnel boldly took on the rest of the Covenant lance.

By the time Holdin had gotten to his feet, the battle was very much over. His mouth watered as the sour tasting nutrient paste touched his tongue. He scrunched his face as he forced it back down into his body. The Vesperan let out a large, awkwardly suppressed burp as he approached the locker containing his armour and clothing. He was fine with the sourness, though it was similar to that of the meat component of most MREs. It was always just off the mark no matter what they tried. That and he had to swallow literal lung fulls in a short amount of time. Holdin suited up relatively fast donning the desert coloured BDU and matching armour pieces. He had little else in the locker, no pictures, or personal affects.

"Anyone who's either ready to fight, or looking for a weapon... or clothes. On me!"

Holdin marched towards the Chief as he adjusted the straps on his pasta shell. As he casually strode over the first Elite that the Chief had broken he scooped up its plasma rifle. Like many others, the weapon was just the right size to fit comfortably in his hands if a bit front heavy. He was ready to push ahead.

[Anowa]

Specialist Anica Novak
"Wha ... why .... how are the Covenant here?"

The resident walking tank was the one to answer. "Boarding action. Covenant are on-board the Pillar. Cole Protocol is now in effect, anything deemed even remotely sensitive is to be smashed, burned, melted or otherwise fully scuttled if we can't take it with us easily, or if we can't be expected to replace it. Things like AI, mission sensitive intel, or HVIs cannot and will not be scuttled."

Pvt. Maple Rier
"Where are we?"

The MC continued, "Unknown, at the moment it doesn't matter, mission parameters currently remain the same, head for the Armory, while adequate we lack the means to reload Covenant weaponry." The woman waited but a moment, surveying everyone either already in, or about to reach combat ready status. "Let's move."

With that, she walked through the previously blasted open doors to the cryo bay. Sweeping her head, she spotted no hostiles, and her motion tracker read the all clear. Looking down the hall, she spotted two other doors blasted open, with a scant few corpses of technicians between them. ignoring them she moved forward, 8 rounds in her pistol and a knife being more than enough at the moment. The sounds of gunfire echoed from beyond the doors, and with that, Ingrid had her objective. Moving at a nigh run for everyone, Ingrid's personal pace was somewhat of a sluggish jog. After a few strides she slowed herself a bit, remembering that not everyone following could move as fast as she could. It was something she'd need to get reacquainted with, having to deal with the fact that no one else in Blue Team was augmented anymore, for all she knew, literally no one else in the galaxy was.

She shook the grim thoughts from her mind, returning to combat readiness. As she stepped through the last portal in the hall, she spotted a number of jammed blast doors, and a few technicians haphazardly firing at something out of view. Ingrid wasn't one to waste time, picking up the pace she nearly slid into the larger hallway. She took sight of two previously eager grunts, and with a duo of depressions, they were put down, their heads being reduced to a pulpy mass.

A voice behind her called out, "Chief!" The voice itself was unmistakable, due to it's accent, as well as the amount of time they'd been stuck in the same room together for NJPs. Turning, Ingrid let the man's form enter her peripherals. Chips Dubbo was pretty much the only Australian on board the Pillar, let alone Blue Team. Any others were blatantly unknown to the Master Chief, but at the moment it was unimportant. "What is it Private?"

"Captain Keyes is waiting for you on the bridge, Ma'am! Come on!" With that Chips started heading towards a blast door. in the opposite direction of the Armory. Ingrid turned to the others, "Grim, get everyone else to the armory, I'll update with a rendezvous when available."

Grim nodded. "Copy."

With that, the walking tank split the party, and Grim was left alone with a needler and a sense of foreboding. "All right, you heard the lady, time to earn some hazard pay! Let's move!"

With that, the elder man moved down the correct path towards the armory. Multiple pairs of boots pounding on the deck plating, the sounds of battle growing nearer, as klaxons started blaring. A few twists and turns, larger hallways being constrained to smaller ones, before opening up again, all the while the closed blast doors and warped bulkheads forced their path, coincidentally in the right direction. Until finally they came across a snag. The blast door leading directly to the armory was shut, meaning a detour was in order. Looking left, Grim spotted an open door, and with laid a dead marine, MA5B in hand, within the sound of tracers bouncing and plasma flying over head could be seen illuminating the hall from the room within. "Dibs!"

With that, Grim made his way over, tossing the needler to the ground like a pile of trash before picking up the much more familiar rifle, 23 rounds left if the ammo counter was calibrated properly. Within the room he spotted a few friendly faces, not just marines, but old friends. Grim slid on his knees behind the overturned lunch table, finally recognizing it as the mess hall for this section of the ship. "Johnson."

The black man gave a slight grin, "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Grim. I see you brought friends."

Grim snorted, "I figured you didn't bring enough." plasma splashed against their table, the residual heat washing into Grim's body, "What've we got?"

"Over a dozen cannon fodder, three squids." a pause, "I don't suppose you brought anything heavy?"

Grim shrugged, "Besides a few fancy plasma guns, no." He looked like he wanted to say more, but the heavy footfalls of something big and ugly came thudding through the deck plating.

With that he and Johnson both popped up over the table to lay into an advancing Elite, it's shields flaring quickly and dropping, before it's center mass was turned into chum. They then both promptly ducked back down.

"Make that two squids."

Grim nodded before looking at the others, "Don't just fucking sit there, shoot back! Concentrate fire on the Split-Lips! And for the love of fuck, don't stand up!"

[Arengin Union]

First Lieutenant Julian "Jay" Hauser
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

"Man that was a good ass nap!"

Were the sole words coming from the ODST lieutenant as he began looking around the cryo chamber, the cold air tarnished the glass and his vision so he could not see what was going on. Did we made it? Sweet! Were his thoughts as he believed they had managed to evade the covenant. Despite the many horrors of war Jay kept himself in a positive outlook, I mean when you've come face to face with death numerous times what else can you really do? The soldier's usual antics were stopped as soon as he noticed the various dead bodies on the floor, screams, and the fighting going on. He had already seen so much death when arriving to the Autumn from the hell that was Reach, he didn't expect to come back to another.

Jay was quick to switch from his relaxing and otherwise positive mood to one where his instincts kicked in. Despite the nakedness of his body, showcasing his tattoos and various scars, Jay had no time for embarrassments as he got out of the pod as soon as he was capable of and began to make his way to the locker at the side. In his way he saw a grunt firing its plasma pistol at his fellow marines, Jay was lucky he was right behind the thing as he sprinted at it. Jay quickly got a hold of the alien's neck, the grunt sounding the usual nervous whimper.

"Surprise!" And snap, the grunt was dead with a quick twist of its neck by the ODST. The alien's pistol would come in handy as Julian picked it up quickly and got back to the locker near his pod and opened it. As he quickly dressed in his battle armor, putting on clothes and then the armor, the CQC variant, Jay saw as his comrades were able to repel most of the covenant forces within the room. Great job guys, he then saw the Spartan take the lead in killing the elites. Fucking Christ... at least they're good for something.

The ODST was finally dressed, and armed with a plasma pistol, it wasn't much but it would do. He was lucky he had left the armor available at the chambers, he somehow knew he would need it before he had stepped into the pod, he surely was glad not to be one of those unfortunates running around naked. The spartan then talked.

"Anyone who's either ready to fight, or looking for a weapon... or clothes. On me!"

"Not like there's much of choice." Jay muttered to himself as he began following his comrades. He began to think about where his remaining squad members were, they had gone to different cryo chambers, Jay hoped for the best but knew there was the possibility of the worse as he followed the group. He hoped he would meet them soon, but not everything was lost as he noticed a familiar face.

"Ugh, no matter how much they try to change that things flavor, it's still the worse thing about cryo-sleep."

Lieutenant Czajkowski, she was a especially familiar sight since she was ODST too, a good sight to behold considering how fucked everything was. Jay didn't let that bother him as, while keeping guard through the halls the group was moving through he quickly got to the fellow Lieutenant and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Nice to see another ODST here." Jay deactivated his helmet's darkened visor.

At that moment the group was separated from the Master Chief Spartan, she being requested by Captain Keyes himself. The sergeant major Grim, a man Jay very much respected was instructed by the spartan to lead the group to the armory. Good idea by her part, Jay didn't want to be carrying a shit plasma pistol all day, and he sure as well was not keen to take orders from a Spartan, no matter who she was.

"All right, you heard the lady, time to earn some hazard pay! Let's move!"

Jay cut his conversation short with Czajkowski as he reiterated the sergeant's order. "You heard him people. Move it!"

Jay then got to the fellow ODST again. "Well ain't this an amazing way to wake up from a nap?" He smirked from within his helmet as he followed Grim.

The group arrived to the entrance of the mess hall, a dead marine laying at the door and the sergeant quickly calling for his rifle. Damn, sly devil you are Grim.

Inside the room the group meet up with the men of a familiar sergeant, Johnson, the man next to Grim that Jay respected to the end. Both of them he did. It was quite the relief to see more friendly faces. There was a firefight going on so they all had to be careful with their steps, Jay remained in a crouched postion as he fired his plasma pistol at the general direction of the enemy, he took cover within a turned table as he overheard both sergeant's conversation. Followed by their quick dispatchment of an Elite.

"Don't just fucking sit there, shoot back! Concentrate fire on the Split-Lips! And for the love of fuck, don't stand up!"

"Open fire! Stay in cover!" The lieutenant said as he fired his plasma pistol with short bursts, while keeping cover.

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1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> Plasma Pistol [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> CQC ODST Battle Armor [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> Grunt Minor [KILLED]

[Vacif]

Grim nodded before looking at the others, "Don't just fucking sit there, shoot back! Concentrate fire on the Split-Lips! And for the love of fuck, don't stand up!"

The man did not need to be told twice as he dove onto the ground behind one of the metal pillars used to support the mess tables. Grunts, birds, and squids ran all around the mess hall as they exchanged colourful fire with the humans. Holdin grimaced as plasma fire slammed into the vanadium steel pillar, expelling hot plasma everywhere. It was only superficial but that didn't make it any more comfortable. Though he supposed he hadn't chosen a comfortable life path to begin with, he decided to repay the alien in kind for their effort. Heeding the Sergeant Major's orders he dropped prone and began firing bursts of blue plasma at the first elite he could see. Bursts of five bolts sailed across the aisle hitting the elite in the knees. In his opinion, no one ever expected to get shot in the legs. The shields on the alien flared vibrantly as the blue plasma mixed with the energy shielding, climaxing with a bright pop.

"That one's shield is down, take him out!" he called out. Their time frame was about five seconds before the thing's shields began to charge, so hopefully someone would keep up the fire while his plasma rifle cooled off. Holdin rolled back into cover shaking the rifle as the internal fan vented out hot air. He was now regretting not looting any grenades off of the Elites in the Cryo bay. They probably packed some and would have been very useful in the fight right now.

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Spc. Holdin Crawford --> Elite Minor

[Independent States of Tula]

Second Lieutenant Antonina Czajkowski
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

As Ann approached the Spartan's growing group a technician tapped her on her shoulder, she turned to look at the man who looked away and stated somewhat embarrassingly, "Umm, your armor and suit is in that locker over there, next to your cryo chamber."

Ann put the man's embarrassment aside and gave a short nod in thanks before turning and making her way to the specified locker, opening it revealed her black combat BDU that had become a second skin for Ann over the last couple of years, in only a few minutes she was geared up and her HUD came to life. Soon after she found herself following the group on the Spartan as they made their way through the corridors of the ship moving towards the armory where they could better stock up and try and repulse the boarding aliens.

However it wasn't long before someone else approached her, this time someone she actually had somewhat a recognition of, "Nice to see another ODST here."

Antonina looked over at the man as his helmet depolarized to reveal someone she hadn't worked with in a little bit, "Lieutenant Hauser, surprised to see you here...speaking of here, any idea where we are...or where my platoon is?"

She never got her answer though as the group split off from the Spartan and followed after the seemingly second in command. They moved quickly and found themselves in the fighting once more as she took cover as well over a dozen aliens with a few of their Elites came charging into the mess hall. Taking cover behind a nearby table Ann began to charge her plasma pistol and took aim at one of the two remaining Elites, she let loose an overcharged shot that slammed into the alien's shoulder, disrupting its shield and leaving it defenseless. But Ann was incapable of capitalizing on this fact as several grunts and the Elite in question began suppressing her position.

"I'm pinned, someone hit that Elite while it's still got it's pants down!" Ann called out, ducking a bit lower as a particularly close glob of green plasma flew over her head.

[Tayner]

Sergeant Marc Wilson
Cryogenic Storage Bay 02, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
September 19, 2552 // 0127 Hours MST

Marc woke up cold, eyes slowly opening to face his cryo pod's viewport and to see the fighting going on outside. Once the hatch finally opened, he unceremoniously flopped down onto the deck and looked around. He saw a grunt about inches from his face, the creature spinning around from watching a spectacular display of brutality by the resident SPARTAN-II, ONI's pet project. As the grunt looked Marc in the face it swung up it's weapon, a needler, to put down the human. Lucky for Marc, pure instinct kicked in, him recognizing the threat and responding swiftly.

He smacked the pistol out of the grunt's hand with the back of his own hand, likely to leave a bruise later, but it would heal. The grunt tried to scramble for his weapon, but Marc grabbed it and went to breath in so he could yell a string of obscenities at the thing. Instead of air filling his lungs, bronchial surfactant was expelled from his lungs, onto the grunt's face. Marc gasped for air as he grabbed the dog-like creature by the neck with both hands, and twisted violently, breaking it's neck and tossing him asaide.

"Man, fuck." He mumbled as he swallowed the mucus-like fluid that wasn't evacuated from his mouth. He looked around to see others on their feet, cleared hot and ready to go, while others were still getting clothed or sitting around. He looked straight ahead to his locker, and got up from his position on the floor and pulled open the door and dragged out his BDUs, ODST issue. Apart from the normal personalization of his rigging, it was standard gear, except for his helmet, a special uparmored variant he managed to acquire back on Reach. Within the minute he was dressed and ready to go.

He went to the pod next to his, where an old friend should be awake by now. "Sergeant Lehkonen," he spoke, coming about the side of the pod to see his red haired friend. "It's time to wake the fuck up." He spoke, half ironically, half letting him know that it wasn't time to lallygag. "Full battle rattle and swipe a covie weapon, yesterday." He instructed, offering his hand to his long time friend and battle buddy.

[Dernland]

CWO-2 Woods

Ephraim carefully aligned the final matte black ballistic plate into position on his chest, rounding off his specialized ODST armor. It was a special variant made under ONI's orders with some input from Ephraim himself. Every plate except for the central chest-plate was thinner than average, allowing for him to carry some of his more specific equipment. He slipped his helmet on and waited patiently for the VISR system to boot up. His screen flickered for a moment before his HUD finally settled on the transparent blue that he was so accustomed to. It had originally been an amber color, but Ephraim had always hated that, so he'd changed it to fit his personal aesthetic. He blinked, causing the clear visor to turn a dark black, obscuring his face from the others. The only exterior identifiers of the armor were a handful of ONI symbols on the chestplate and pauldrons.

The team's journey to the Armory was surprisingly uneventful, though the Chief went off towards the bridge with some marines at the behest of the Captain, so that left them without a Spartan. They'd get by without her, but damn wouldn't a Spartan be super helpful in their current situation. Woods was crouched behind an overturned bench, his Covenant weapon trained on an advancing Grunt. This particular specimen wore red armor and seemed a bit less timid than his brethren, that just wouldn't do. He trained his crosshair on the grunt firing three shots in quick succession. The bolts of plasma splashed across the grunt's armor, causing the pressurized suit to leak streams of chilled methane. The creature collapsed, its wounds wouldn't be fatal for a human, but he had no idea if this covenant species would survive. Nonetheless, he was incapacitated and that was all that mattered.

[Turmenista]

Ensign Thomas Bradley/PFC Billy Reeves
Mess Hall, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location / 2552
"IWHBYD on."

In the moments that followed after they had entered the mess hall, the team as a whole had already managed to kill one Elite, but there were still multiple others still in there keeping them from accessing the armory. Not to mention, there was a huge amount of cannon fodder present. Thus far, the M6C/S and Plasma Pistol combo had seemed to work just perfectly for Ensign Bradley, surprisingly. The black ops computer whiz popped out of cover for only a split second, his grip on the plasma pistol in his left hand tight as ever as he held down on the trigger, using some quick math in his head to aim the pistol right at the center of mass of the blue boy a few feet away from him.

He let go, quick to reel back into cover as he heard what appeared to be a hiss of a pipe amid the gunfire and shouting. The Elite's shields popped as the green glob of plasma collided with it, and with his shields gone, Bradley was able to follow up with a a trio of shots to the Elite. The first two hit the Elite's chest, but the third - scored right to his forehead - caused his eyes to glaze as his gaze shot up to the ceiling. He went limp, falling over onto the floor with a loud crumple as the ensign pulled back into cover, making sure to keep an eye on his ammunition in the corner of his HUD.

Billy was having a far less calculated and conservative time in combat, compared to Ensign Bradley.

The Marine swore loudly, taking cover behind what appeared to be a concession stand of some sort as he quickly dropped an empty magazine from his Magnum, before slapping a fresh new one into the M6D. His frustration was evident as a few more of the little guys began to move up, protected by a few jackals with shield gauntlets. "Fucking little fuckers!" He howled, pulling the slide back to the Magnum, before letting it go. "I'm gonna smoke your asses!!"

"Unless you wanna turn into chop suey, I suggest you sit your ass down in cover now, Marine!" A voice behind them shouted, possibly belonging to the Sergeant Major, or Johnson - Bradley couldn't distinguish who it was, but Billy didn't give a damn about who it was. The Ensign could've swore his translation software picked up a Grunt hurling a vulgar insult at PFC Reeves, but then, he noticed something entirely different being hurled back at the Grunt. And then he hit the deck.

It was a live frag grenade, tossed by none other than Billy. Bradley went prone and held his hands over his head as Billy screamed "EAT THIS, E.T.! FRAG OUT!!!"

The PFC's hall of fame-worthy football skills became evident again as the hail mary of a frag throw landed right in the center of a trio of grunts and Jackals, all three of whom were tossed asunder by the ensuing explosion. Nearby Grunts screamed and Jackals howled as they were sent airborne by the grenade, while those not too close to the frag when it went off were dazed, knocked to the floor or incapacitated by the shrapnel. Even as plasma bolts shot past him intended for other people, Billy rose up from his block of cover and raised his Magnum, a determined glare of spite for his enemies plastered on his face as he proceeded to unload the Magnum on the unlucky alien souls that had survived this time.

"Take that!" A grunt tripped and fell by his bullets. "And THAT!" A Jackal Major, whose shields had collapsed from the explosion, was unable to run away in time as rounds tore into his flesh, causing him to spin on his feet. "You too, biatch! BANG BANG, motherfucker!!"

The Covenant force's numbers had been cut down considerably, but in doing so, Billy had nearly lost his life. So, it was no surprise that another Marine had pulled him down coincidentally before an Elite began firing at him, scorching the wall and motivational poster behind him as they hit the dirt. Billy slapped the ground angrily in response to this. "Damn, bro. There was a dead guy on the way in here," He sighed, checking his own weapon. "That was one of his 'nades. I left the other one out there. If only I had a 'nade launcher, that split-jaw would be toast!"

"Too late to grab that grenade now, Marine." Bradley said, keeping an eye on his motion tracker whilst he checked the charge to the Plasma Pistol. "And these guys ahead of us are all that stand between us and the armory." He let out a sigh. "Okay.. uh... we're going to need to focus fire to take this one out. Sit it out, I think you had your share for today, Reeves."

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ENS Thomas Bradley (M6C/S / PP) --> Elite Minor (PRr) [DE-SHIELDDED]
ENS Thomas Bradley (Noob Combo) --> Elite Minor (PRr)
PFC Billy Reeves (Salvaged M9 HE-DP) --> Jackal Major (PP) [KILLED]
PFC Billy Reeves (Salvaged M9 HE-DP) --> Grunt Minor (PP)  [KILLED]
PFC Billy Reeves (Salvaged M9 HE-DP) --> Grunt Minor (PP) [KILLED]
PFC Billy Reeves (M6D) --> Grunt Major (N) [KILLED]
PFC Billy Reeves (M6D) --> Jackal Minor (PP) [KILLED]

[Northern Poland]

Nicholas puts on his helmet, as he had already but on his armor. He sees a dead marine with a DMR he then loots it and it's ammo., He then runs down to the mess hall.He sees all the covies, and he flips over a table. He then hides behind said table, and leans over to aim. He zeroes on a grunt, and fires 5 rounds at the grunt. The grunt flips over, dead.

He reloads his M392, and watches as everyone else starts clearing the room. He aims at a Jackal, he sees that it has it's shield up. So he aims at the hand that it's holding the plasma pistol in. He fires, and misses the mark by a little bit. he tries again, hitting the jackals hand. It retreats behind a table.

He watches the other people, then turns around to face the enemies. He sees a elite Yelling to a group of grunts, so he aims at the elite's head. He fires 3 rounds, the elite gets hit on 2 of them, and it shakes its head in hurt. He shoots another 2, hitting and killing the Elite.

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Corp.Nicholas Whitt ---> M392 [EQUIPPED]
Corp.Nicholas Whitt -->  Combat Armor [EQUIPPED]
Corp. Nicholas Whitt --> Grunt Minor [KILLED]
Corp. Nicholas Whitt --> Jackal [WOUNDED]
Corp.Nicholas Whitt --> Elite Minor [KILLED] 

[New Finnish Republic]

Sergeant Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Cryogenic Storage Bay 02, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
September 19, 2552 // 0128 Hours MST

Shit seemed to hit the fan, no matter where Matti was, what he was doing, or who he was with. Whether it was ending up getting into a drunken brawl by himself against four other pissed off ODSTs, getting chased out at gunpoint by a father who was none to pleased to find Matti in bed with his daughter, or nearly getting his blown up by a Grunt with his methane tank nicked, troubled seemed to always follow him.

This bad luck seemed to have once again followed him, as he suddenly woke up being frozen to the sound of gunfire and explosions. While confused, his instincts kicked into high gear as he smashed the button to open up his pod. As the door flew open, he suddenly found himself falling head first towards the ground, cursing as he skidded across the cold floor below. Seeing as he was currently buck naked, the experience was far from pleasant, as was clear by the continued cursing as he struggled to get on his feet. He managed to swallow the nutritious liquid that was in his mouth, but he nearly gagged from the taste.

"Sergeant Lehkonen, it's time to wake the fuck up. Full battle rattle and swipe a covie weapon, yesterday."

Looking up, he saw a familiar hand reaching down to help pick him up. It was Wilson, a long time battle buddy of his. The two had been together for so many years now that he felt like he could practically read the man's mind. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Matti was unsure, but at least he knew he'd always have someone to have his back when he needed it.

Gritting his teeth, he took Wilson's hand and got onto his feet. Glancing around, he could tell things had definitely hit the fan, and their only chance of getting out alive was going to end in spilling a lot of Covie blood. He was just glad he wasn't going to be the one to do the mopping afterwards.

"You know, seeing your ugly mug straight out of the freezer is enough of a fright to kill a guy. You better be lucky that my other eye can filter it out."

The sound of a plasma grenade going off made the two jump, snapping them into action. Matti nodded his head towards where their gear was stashed.

"Cover my naked ass for a bit, why don't you?"

Running over to his locker, Matti hastily put on his gear. His BDU was the Sharpshooter variant, which provided more mobility than standard designs. However, by doing that it sacrificed protection, and seeing as they were in an all out close quarters brawl with the Covenant, that meant he was already at a disadvantage. His SCOUT variant helmet had been augmented to work with in tandem with his synthetic eye, which was still now in the process of booting up. In normal situations, Matti could acquire a wealth of knowledge through its use, from wind pressure, wind speed, temperature, altitude, and much more. However, given that he had just woken up, it acted no different than his normal eye. Given their environment, however, he doubted he'd need anything more than that.

Stepping out of the locker room, he slid his combat knife out of its sheath, prepared to slit the throat of any unlucky alien bastard that got in his way. However, he had no plans on using it for long. He needed an actual weapon here soon, or else he was going to find himself bringing a knife to a gunfight, quite literally.

Glancing over to Wilson, he weighed his options. It looked like their entire crew was either dead or fending off the Covenant invaders. How they had even gotten aboard was a mystery in itself, but those answers would have to wait. For now, they were just going to have to kill every last alien that made the mistake of hopping on board his ship and rudely awakening him and the rest of BLACK.

"Alright Wilson, you take point. As fun as it'd be to cut a slip-jaw's tongue out, I'd rather you get the first crack at him seeing as you actual have a pistol. Not like you'll hit shit with it anyways, but you might just scare the piss out of it long enough for me to actually get something accomplished."

[Beiarusia]

Pvt. Maple Rier
Cryo Two, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

Unknown location. A terrifying thought, alone in the depths of space, yet somehow the Covenant had found them all the same.

The young, out-of-place army trooper did her best to stay focused on the task at hand, following the others as they traversed the bowels of the Autumn, a bit sluggish as she struggled against the lingering inconvenience of flash unthawing. Gunfire could be heard in distant hallways. Sometimes closer. The Spartan-II took point, but was soon pulled away to meet with Captain Keyes, leaving Sergeant Major Grim to lead them the remainder of the way to the Armory. "All right, you heard the lady, time to earn some hazard pay! Let's move!" he said, wasting no time as emergency klaxons blared to life. The objective was blocked by a sealed blast door, so they took a detour right into the middle of a firefight. Marines were pinned inside the Mess Hall.

The soldiers rushed into cover, Rier stumbling behind an overturned table as plasma burned the air around her. "Open fire! Stay in cover!" yelled an ODST from somewhere to her left. "I'm pinned!" another called. Then came an explosion as someone loosed a frag grenade. The sudden appearance of reinforcements had stunned the Covenant advance but the battle was yet to be won.

A deep breath, and then Rier rolled down to the floor to peer around the edge of the table, the cumbersome Plasma Rifle raised as best it could be. A flurry of superheated plasma burned into where the Covenant were hunkered down. The Grunts and Jackals fell deeper into cover, and although uninjured the suppressing fire was keeping them from retaliating, allowing others to finish the job. A bolt of green plasma burned into the table and Rier ducked away, calmed her nerves, and then blind-fired where she believed the enemies to still be milling about.

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Pvt. Maple Rier (PR) -> Covenant [SUPPRESSING FIRE]

[Tayner]

Sergeant Marc Wilson
UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
September 19, 2552 // 0127 Hours MST

"Alright Wilson, you take point. As fun as it'd be to cut a slip-jaw's tongue out, I'd rather you get the first crack at him seeing as you actual have a pistol. Not like you'll hit shit with it anyways, but you might just scare the piss out of it long enough for me to actually get something accomplished."

"Unlike you, I know how to handle myself when a split-jaw fugly gets in my face." Marc said, grabbing a plasma pistol and joining the group as they went to join the fight against the covenant boarding parties. Whenever they passed human bodies on the ground Marc would pause and check their necks for pulses, never finding one. This definitely wasn't going to be a easy fight. They finally met up with some friendlies near the bridge, but the group was split up.

Ingrid, the Spartan, was sent to the bridge and the rest had to make their way through the armory, some people scavenging human weapons to replace the unfamiliar covenant plasma weapons. Marc wasn't so lucky to spot a weapon, he'd have to wait until they got to the armory to get a weapon that used lead instead of superheated ionized gas. They eventually found their way into the mess, where a firefight was raging. Humans called out, ranging from orders to pleads for help, but the enemy was swiftly battered by the new arrivals. Marc took his place by an upturned table and joined the fight.

"Matti, push up, keep low." Marc said, before speaking up to others. "Covering fire!" He yelled, before getting out of cover and putting plasma downrange at an unfortunate elite that already had it's shielding depleted. Bolts of plasma splashed against it's upper pice of its chestplate, as the recoil pushed the spread upwards, as a few more shots of plasma hit the elite's face, boiling away its armor and flesh as it gave a guttural shout of pain, all the time Matti moving up at a crawl to try and get a jump on a covenant elite or jackal that was being suppressed by the team.

"One elite down, let's finish them off!" Marc yelled, continuing to put down suppressive fire on the remaining covenant troops.

[Ubaria]

Specialist Anica Novak
Cyro Bay Two - Aboard the Pillar of Autumn - Unknown Location // Septermber 2552
A rude awakening

"Boarding action. Covenant are on-board the Pillar. Cole Protocol is now in effect, anything deemed even remotely sensitive is to be smashed, burned, melted or otherwise fully scuttled if we can't take it with us easily, or if we can't be expected to replace it. Things like AI, mission sensitive intel, or HVIs cannot and will not be scuttled."

The Spartan's response did little to answer Novak's initial question of how the Covenant had managed to find them and breach the Autumn's defenses, then again, she had been in cryo sleep with the rest of them, the only concern right now was survival. Achieving that goal at present meant they had to reach the armory, there they at least stood some hope of holding back the Covenant boarding assault long enough to evacuate the ship, although currently that objective wasn't as easy as described, between them and the weapons were a whole load of Covenant. No time was wasted on letting everybody adjust to normality, every precious second had become vital and once everybody had picked themselves off the deck and grabbed their clothing, they were out the door and into the fight.

The Spartan led them some of the way before peeling off with another soldier toward the Bridge, the remaining soldiers and marines led by Grim were left to navigate themselves to the armory, though as nothing was ever easy, the main route was blockaded and so they had to swing into the Mess Hall which currently was the location of an intense battle. Novak instantly scrambled into cover behind a hastily erected table barricade as they offered the only suitable cover in such a small space, the soldier pressed herself as tightly into the crevice as possible to avoid the bolts of oncoming plasma, showering the walls, ceiling and surrounding area in green and purple splashes, melting away any surface that wasn't the superstructure of the ship.

Hands awkwardly clawing the contours of the ill-designed for human hands Plasma Pistol, Anica took a knee and slowly tilted her head sideways to see around her cover, making sure not to present any more than she needed to. Several grunts had taken the front lines, intermingling were Jackals with their shield gauntlets creating a difficult to penetrate defensive line to which the Elites were utilizing as best they could, their ranks were falling however and one Elite was rapidly dispatched by another soldier she recognized from the cryo bay. Sensing her moment, Anica leaned around the table and took aim with her captured pistol. The weapon itself wasn't too difficult to work, a button on the holographic display on the top rail of the weapon simply activated the thing, then firing was as simple as applying pressure to the slanted trigger, though the weapon was classified as a pistol, it was rather large but could still be supported from the bottom if need be.

Anica fired her first few shots at an advancing Jackal to little effect, the small bolts of plasma simply were absorbed by the alien's arm mounted shield, however the weapon had a second function, if the trigger was held for long enough, the weapon would build up enough energy to release a more powerful shot with the added effect of an electromagnetic discharge on both the projectile and weapon, the shot of which could disable electronic components including, a Jackal's shielding.

"Take this you bird brained asshole!" Anica yelled whilst depressing the trigger for a good couple of seconds, the pistol started emitting an audible buzz and electric crackle, the muzzle shone a bright green until Anica finally released the switch, the gun fired and instantly kicked back, letting out a burst of pent up energy in heat form which enveloped the gun and burnt Novak's hands to a minor degree, the emergency override on the weapon quickly flipped the top cover open to allow the power cell to rapidly cool. In the meanwhile, the charged shot had landed squarely on the Jackal's shielding, quickly disabling it in a flurry of electric arcs and static crackling, the shield remained down until Anica had managed to reset the pistol and so she let loose with more spaced and sporadic shots, a few of which she managed to land, burning the avian beast to the point it collapsed, emitting a pained squawking sound that was drowned out by the nearby gunfire.

"Why don't we have these?" Novak questioned to herself.

Code: Select all

Specialist Anica Novak - Kill ---> Jackal Minor (Plasma Pistol)

[Anowa]

SMaj Hapfthor "Grim" Grimsdottir
Location Unknown, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Mess Hall B
September 19, 2552 // 0134 Military Standard Time
...In a Sullen Swell...

As the others started tearing into the ET bastards, Grim figured he'd do the same, ducking back out of cover, he pulled his rifle to bear and emptied it into the last remaining xeno -an Elite minor so awestruck at the thorough ass kicking that his little shitheads had been on the receiving end of- and emptied the sixty round magazine into the bastard. His shields dropped and his body quickly turned into chum in a swift deliverance.

And with a last few final rounds expended in the room, all was safe.

"Why don't we have these?" Novak questioned to herself.

Grim gave a guffaw, "Cause it gives you Boren's Syndrome kid!" He shook his head. And in that shaking, the parallax from his eyes shifted as well, and that was all he needed to see the flickering directly behind Novak. Grim moved a fraction of a second before Johnson did. A burst of BR fire sailing over his shoulder as Johnson caused the beast's shields to flare, and it's active camo to fail. Grim had other ideas, he'd done it a few times before, and it usually worked. Though as the white color of an Elite Ultra came into view, he started having minute second thoughts.

His methods of madness always ended up being frowned upon, like sleeping in cryo with a loaded M6B. It was an aged design, all the way back from when he was on Harvest, now it's finish had faded, and the barrel had been blacked from all the rounds stuffed through it, the lining having had to be replaced several times, among other minute modifications.

He crossed the distance with a speed that even a Spartan would admit was impressive for a normal old man like himself. And he pretty much stepped over Novak, a plasma rifle round slapping into his left pauldron, the Ultra now changing targets. Johnson's second burst flared it's shields again, the splatter of energy and molten copper obscuring it's vision. Then Grim struck.

Grim was by no means in peak physical condition, he was old, but he still had an inhuman drive to kick ass and take names, so the pain in his joints of bear hugging and lifting an elite six inches off the ground, before planting it's ass on the floor, was inconsequential to the old man. Reaching down to his belt, he grabbed his ages old pistol, and preyed to God that the primers in it had thawed out. A few more impacts on the Elite's legs finally flared it's shields to a manageable level. And Grim aimed at the bastards big fuck off head.

A good thing about the M6 series of pistols was, unless you were a SPARTAN,it would fire as fast as you pulled the trigger. So eight rounds of HE flavored capsules flew from the gun's barrel into the Ultra's head and neck, now quite fairly lumpy and mushed.

Grim stepped off the Elite, sighing before holding himself on his knees, "I think I pulled something in my groin." a pause as he looked up, "Just a heads up, you see a flicker of light, shoot first ask questions later."

The door at the far end of the Mess opened, and both Grim, and Johnson's squad all reacted in apprehension, weapons raising immediately, though quickly de-escalating once it was clear friendlies had arrived.

Ingrid was the first through, followed by Dubbo, the private unceremoniously falling on his ass due to some bad footwork and Grunt blood. Though as Dubbo played around in the waterpark of bodily fluids, Ingrid took stock, "Looks like we missed the party."

Johnson quipped back, "Plenty of party to go around Chief, Armory's just through those doors... Private, would you please just stand up!"

Dubbo got to his feet, barely able to do so without some kind of slippage or wobbly leg, a simple movement to try and step out of the blood was met with a swift reintroduction with the floor plating. 'Why is this shit so goddamn slippery?"

A second voice emanated from the Chief, though much more elegant, and posh, the mission specialist, Andromeda, securely squared away in her head, "That's because it's mixing with fryer grease."

Dubbo sighed, "Cuz' fuck me right?" The chief knelt over a bit and offered the younger trooper a hand, "Thanks Chief." as he stood, he once again quipped in his usual demeanor, "Feels like helping an old lady cross a road."

Ingrid hefted the man out of the pool of kitchen grease and blood, before responding, "I'm not that old Dubbo." The Aussie in question stood stock still for a moment, as Ingrid walked into the Armory a few scant meters away. he quickly shook his head, disregarding the odd and somewhat uncharacteristic snark from the Spartan, following the woman into the armory.

Within was pretty much every weapon built and fielded by the UNSC in the past thirty years or so. And Dubbo already spotted Ingrid slipping 40 mike-mike rounds into her LBV.
Dubbo, not one to be outdone, simply walked over and grabbed a Spanker launcher affixing it to the magnetic strip on his BDU's back. As the others filed into the armory, they followed suit, grabbing their weapons of choice before loading up on as much ammo as they could. Grim simply kept the MA5C, through swapping out for 36 round mags as opposed to the 60 rounder in it. The Chief simply grabbed on to an MA5D with an underslung GL, keeping the pistol she'd found before on her hip, before slapping a few extra MA5 mags onto her armor with EB green. It was then her authoritative tone cut through the air like a energy sword did flesh, "Alright everyone listen up! Captain Keyes is scuttling the ship on a nearby artificial construct. A ring structure roughly 10 thousand klicks in diameter. It;s also where we're landing, but in a much smaller package. So grab what you can because we aren't gonna have another chance like this."

After a few moments the ship shuddered, before Andromeda's voice rang through the armory, "We're running out of life pods. There are less than eight remaining, on the other side of the ship, if you want to get them before the Covenant do, I suggest you start moving."

Grim cut in at that point, "Alright children, start stuffing goodies down your pants because I don't feel like riding this tub down!" After a few moments of filling his pockets with what he could, he called out, "Alright, we're oscar mike!"

The sound of dozens of fully kitted boots pounded across the deck plating, those troopers assembled now with a definitive objective: Get off the boat or ride it into oblivion. As they all exited into one the larger hallways, it was clear their assembly had been noticed by the hostiles clearing the ship. Plasma started flying as Grim took cover behind one of the structural beams. Due to the honeycomb shaped superstructure of the Autumn, the superstructure itself would intersect with the halls, a rather unavoidable problem that originally had the Halcyon's benched early in their career. But it made decent cover.

Speaking of, all the hallways had were support beams, technical terminals, and corpses to use for cover. And at the far end laid their salvation, a very noticeable door for one of a pair of lifepods, a full track field away. All that laid between them was that of a good three dozen covies. 6 Elites total, including 4 Minors, a major, and an Ultra, with a large group of 26 assorted cannon fodder.

Ingrid wasted no time in engaging, a single report from the 40mm on her rifle dealing an ELite a high explosive death, it's shields popping and it's torso becoming an open cavity. Nothing else really need to be said or done. Aliens needed killing.

[New Finnish Republic]

Sergeant Matti "Loki" Lehkonen
Mess Hall B, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
September 19, 2552 // 0128 Hours MST

---

As they entered the mess hall, Matti's assumptions of the entire situation being fucked was proven correct, as all hell had broken loose between the humans who were still able to put up a fight and the seemingly unending waves of Covenant raiders. Matti knew he wasn't going to be able to get through this mess alive if all he had was a simple knife, which meant he was going to have to "borrow" one from one of the alien bastards.

"Matti, push up, keep low."

Matti nodded to Wilson, quickly ducking his way through the overturned tables as he did his best to stay out of sight while Wilson laid down covering fire. He saw Wilson make quick work of an Elite who's shields were down, turning the alien's face into a burning puddle of flesh and bone. It was always a pleasant sight for Matti to watch those bastards get a taste of their own medicine, but he had little time to admire Wilson's work before a Jackal suddenly popped from behind the table which Matti had advanced to.

Before the avian resembling creature had a chance to let out a single squawk, Matti had already jammed his knife upwards into its neck, the tip of the blade piercing through the top of its skull causing purple blood to erupt from the wound. As the Jackal's body went limp, Matti had already grabbed the carbine from its hands and quickly turned his attention to the Elite Wilson had wounded just moments before. The Elite's cries of pain were soon cut short as several plasma rounds blew through its back, causing the alien to crash down onto the floor below.

After a few more moments of battle, the room suddenly became quiet as the last remaining Covenant forces were killed off. Matti let out a sigh of relief, glad to finally get his first moment of rest since he'd woken up from the freezer. Glancing over to Wilson, he held up two fingers, indicating the kills he'd gotten in their brief little skirmish. As of late, they had begun a competition of sorts, always trying to up the others in both quantity and quality of kills. After a while, they'd display their often exaggerated tallies to each other and force the loser of the competition to pay for the other's drinks for the night. Considering that the two could drink enough alcohol to make an entire platoon seeing double, it was often a quick way to burn through their hard earned paychecks.

Matti was going to follow up with a taunt to Wilson when suddenly the sound of a battle rifle firing caused him to snap back into his battle mode. Turning to the source of the gunfire, Matti's jaw dropped a bit as he witnessed Grim pile drive an Elite Ultra into the ground before turning its head and neck into a pulp via his sidearm. While he might have been an old bastard, Grim was still an ODST, and thus such a feat wasn't necessarily unthinkable as it was surprising.

Still, Matti planned on buying the old man a drink once they got through this shit show. If we do, he grimly thought as he glanced around the room in search of any other potential ambushers. That was the biggest things he hated about those Elites, their damn invisibility cloaking devices. While a sharp eye could spot them when they moved, when they stood still they were practically impossible for anyone to detect.

Thankfully, Matti would soon not have to worry about that, as his synthetic eye was finally beginning to complete its reboot process. When it finally did, a flurry of information flooded his left eye. None of it was particular useful at the moment bar the cloaking detection, but it was good to know that it hadn't been busted in the flurry of events that had transpired since his awakening. Now all he needed was an actual weapon to use besides the Covenant shit in his hands.

He didn't have to wait long, as the remaining humans began to make their way into the armory. They immediately began to grab their weapons and gear that were assembled in the room, loading up with as much as they could all carry as they knew this would likely be the last time they'd have a chance to resupply in a long time, if ever again.

For Matti, the choice of weapon was clear for him: The SRS 99C, the UNSC's best way to say "Fuck You" at a distance. The 14.5x114mm Ant-Material rounds had enough punch in them to take down practically everything but a Hunter down in a single well aimed shot. Matti was proud to know he was the marksman that the UNSC had save for the Spartans, and even for them Matti thought he could hold his own with. He had used this weapon for so long that he could dissemble and reassemble it with a blindfold on. And now that his augmented eye could give him every single bit of data he needed to place his shots correctly, he felt knew that he could put any Covenant dumb enough to poke their heads out from cover on their asses as long as they were in range of the rifle.

The only downside to the rifle was the small magazine capacity. Each magazine held a meager 4 rounds, which meant that he'd be needing to ruck around a lot of fucking ammunition. His tac could hold up to 10 full mags, plus room for his M6C/SOCOM mags as well. He'd have to stash the rest into his ruck, which could hold about another 30 magazines plus the ones for his sidearm inside. It was a lot heavier load than he was used to, but he knew that he'd have to suck it up in the meantime. He saved some space for the MREs that would be stashed aboard the lifepod, knowing that they would be just as vital as their weapons. However, if push came to shove, he heard rumors that Grunt wasn't all that bad if you spiced it up right...

He was about to head towards where the lifepods were when all of a sudden Wilson yelled out at him.

"Make yourself useful and grab a belt of 7.62 for me!"

Matti replied with a single finger, but soon rushed over and threw a belt of ammo around his neck. He was now at his limit for what he could carry and still be able to somewhat maneuver in. He just prayed to the Gods he had grabbed enough ammo, but with his luck he'd probably be burning through it all by the time they made it a single klick from their LZ.

As they made their way to the lifepods, almost as if some malevolent god had put them there just to make life even shittier, they ran into another group of Covenant who were waiting to mow down any remaining stragglers trying to escape. Unfortunately for them, they were about to get some well shined boots up their assess as the now fully equipped humans let loose hell on them.

Their Spartan kicked off the party with a bang, quite literally, as she unleashed a 40mm HE on one of the Elites. A good move, as years of combat against the Covenant had made it clear that taking out the leadership caused the smaller cannon fodder to panic.

Diving into cover, Matti searched for the first available Elite he could find. In didn't take him long, as an Elite began barking out orders to the a handful of surprised Grunts to begin engaging the humans. Bringing his rifle up to bear, Matti placed his crosshairs right in the middle of the alien's throat before pulling the trigger. The sound from his rifle in the enclosed space was deafening, even with his helmet's noise cancellation.

The Anti-Material round, strong enough to stop a Ghost in its tracks, had little trouble in tearing through the Elite's shields before continuing on into the Elite's neck. The impact practically tore the Elite's head off, leaving only a few fibers connecting the head to the rest of the body. The ensuing sprayed blood and gore caused one of the nearby Grunts to panic as it was covered in the stuff, causing him to begin blindly firing his needler into the back of one of its fellow Grunts. It fired so many that it reached the point of explosion, causing further pink shrapnel to kill an additional Grunt in the process.

Underneath his helmet, a small grin formed on Matti's face as he switched his aim to a nearby Jackal who was attempting to get a bead on the humans. A short second later and its chest was torn open by the force of the bullet's impact, causing even more blood to be spilled. At this point it felt like shooting fish in the barrel for Matti, but he knew there was much more work to be done as the firefight continued to rage on.

[Turmenista]

Ensign Thomas Bradley/PFC Billy Reeves
Armory, UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location / 2552
"IWHBYD on."

"Holy fucking shit, Sarge - is grandpa fucking suplexing a Dino?!"

"Marine, I'm beginning to consider that bitch-ass bandana of yours is covering up a head woun- wait... What in the goddamn...?"

He paid no attention to the banter between Staff Sergeant Stacker and PFC Reeves, but, had he been a Marine Sergeant, Ensign Bradley would've straight up berated Billy in the middle of combag for such an immature remark.

But, surprisingly, the jarhead was right. He could hardly even believe his own eyes - the oldie had rushed forward right towards a white-armored Elite Ultra, which Bradley knew from ONI reports and personal observation were basically the Covenant's big, badass ass-kicking Elites that could take about 5 hits point blank with a M90 or even the SRS, or two SPNKR rockets, before their shields dropped. He almost sighed in relief about the predicament they were in, as if he were laughing at some terribly dark joke, even. After all, if the Elite here had been the one of the badass Spec Ops types in dark armor with the strange markings, or even a Zealot, everyone in the room, no questions asked, would've been dead already. An Ultra in a room, like any other Elite, wasn't something to take lightly, and someone needed to act quickly lest they all end up as diced humans, cooked well done.

Which was exactly what Grim did.

Bradley watched in awe, jaw agape, as a meaty friendly green outline closed in on the the big ass red outline of the Elite on his VISR. The geriatric Helljumper fastened himself around the elite in a move similar to the Heimlich maneuver only from the front, lifted him up a straight six inches off the floor, and then body slammed him down onto the ground, professional wrestler style. Bradley could've swore the floor shook when the Elite's body crashed down, coincidentally straight through a table that hadn't been overturned. Then Grim really started handing the Elite's ass to him. A swipe for his sidearm and an emptying of his weapon later, the Ultra lay dead on the floor, purple blood pooling from the open cavity in the Ultra's helmet as the vet stepped off the elite, holding his knees almost comically.

All clear...? Bradley raised himself over cover once more, scanning the area with both his Plasma Pistol and his trusty M6C/S. With no enemies in sight, he holstered his sidearm and lowered the alien weapon, advancing slowly and steadily with the others.

Billy, meanwhile, stood beside the scene, eyes widened like a boy seeing a magic trick for the first time. "Woah. How the fu-"

"Trust me, Marine," Bradley said, patting the Jarhead on the back, his face still in an indifferent frown underneath the helmet despite the rather entertaining display of masculinity on Grim's part. "If he was any better, he'd be a Spartan. Let's go."

"Man, I wish that I had a bad-ass grandpa.." Billy sighed, making sure not to trip over any other fallen Covenant troops as he stepped over the Ultra, looking down at the fallen Covenant Officer, snickering as he straddled over the Elite, both legs on either side of its upturned face, his groin strangely right above the Elite. "Suck it, split-jaw! Gramps just bodied your ass, hah!"

"You done, Reeves?" Stacker called back to the PFC.

"Coming, Sarge."

The amalgamation of Army, Marine and ONI troops and a Spartan all gathered in the armory, relieved to find it clear and full of not aliens, but weapons. Virtually every single gun that one could think of that was built in the past thirty or so years was in here, and that included rarities Bradley had rarely seen in combat such as the aptly-named Spartan Laser and Bubble Shield, the latter of which he reached to pick up, only to stop as he realized how goddamn heavy the thing actually was. For all he cared, this was the last time he'd be able to gear up with a fully-loaded human gun, and everything else would have to consist of learning how to shoot potentially carcinogenic alien guns.

So, for all intensive purposes, Bradley reached for the Battle Rifle on the wall. Something new. The BR55 battle rifle had a smart-linked 2x scope, and fired in either a three-round burst or semi-automatic fire, making it the much more powerful companion to the DMR and more accurate and longer range alternative to the MA5 Assault Rifle. He'd actually used the BR55 a few times... on firing ranges, but from his observations on QUASAR's helmet footage and personal observations, the BR could be fired to very good effect, usually dispatching a Grunt or Jackal in one pull of the trigger, so long as you aimed for the head. This meant that Bradley could theoretically fire automatically if he pulled it fast enough, but he wasn't in the mood to spend ammo needlessly. Once slinging the rifle on his shoulder, he thought of a wonderful combination: If he were to de-shield an elite with the overcharged plasma pistol, quickly switch to his BR, and end the life of the Elite with a headshot, this would make combat almost simulation level of easy, so long as he got good at the movement.

I'll take it. And a shit ton of magazines for it and my pistol...

He also paused to think about his team- one of his old friends from QUASAR, Marc, was eyeing an AIE-486H machine gun, something which Bradley could not possibly lift. And, knowing how Wilson could not possibly carry that and all the ammo that he had, the Ensign decided to be generous as he took up one of the HMG's box magazines.

"I'll carry a box for you, but I've got a lot of stuff in here," Bradley explained to his friend. Hopefully, he understood.

While Bradley was busy stuffing FAKs into his Recon BDU's ODST Pack along with Battle Rifle and M6C magazines (placing a few of the latter on his utility belt for use later), PFC Billy was basking in the glory of the Armory's expansive coffers, practically having an orgasm at the sight of all of the ordinance available right for his picking. "It's just like Christmas morning," he chimed, smiling like a little boy eyeing his unopened presents as he weaved through the crowd gearing up as quickly as they could. He opened up a locker which he knew like the back of his hand, which held something that was practically an extension of his own body used exclusively for ending Covie lives at close range.

He holstered his Magnum and pulled the modified M90 CAWS out of the locker, comically shivering with glee as he pulled on a bandoleer laced with shells to the shotty. The so-called "Bug Stomper" was decked out with a myriad of markings: 14 tally marks indicated the amount of Elite lives, according to him, that the shotgun had taken, not to mention the countless amounts of non-elites that Billy claimed the shotgun responsible for killing. Despite its range limitations, Billy was best at close range, and the weapon was clearly capable of being used to great effect at such ranges since... well... 14 elites had already seen how it was capable of doing so. Messily.

"Ya done over there, Billy? We're oscar mike!" Stacker called, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Dubbo hefting along a rather massive anti-tank contraption on his back. He could only whistle at the sight of the SPNKR being hefted by the Aussie out of there. "Get your ass over here or you're going down to that planet on a flaming boat!"

"That's gonna be a helluva way to die, Sarge!" Reeves called, practically slamming his green HUD eyepiece on as he darted for the Hallway, almost immediately tripping on himself as he sprinted for cover at the sight of advancing Covenant forces. Bradley, at this point, was totally sick of seeing the aliens. He wanted to get the hell off of the ship and onto firm ground, ironically, and the only thing in between them and achieving his goal was a bunch of fucking Covenant. Of course. He expected to take down the Elite Major quickly with his "unbeatable" combo, but once he let go of the trigger, the alien weapon seemed to die in his hands as its ammunition was spent - the green blob of plasma flew way off target and slammed into the Autumn's bulkheads, and the Elite whipped his head around from the green projectile over to who fired it, the Ensign.

He let out a "wort" as he pointed to the man with his free hand, firing at the others with the Plasma rifle in his other. Bradley swore as a shield gauntlet-wielding Jackal and his grunt accomplice began to fire at him. He dove for cover behind a structural beam and practically crawled to get out of fire, one eye kept on his motion tracker whilst the other followed the VISR's friendly green outline up to a friendly face. "Staff Sergeant!"

Stacker looked away from his weapon, just barely hearing the man's call for help. "You hit, sir?"

Bradley shook his head, aiming his index and middle finger blindly to the two alien cannon fodder that were hammering his position with needles and plasma. "Negative, but they need to be!" The experienced marine chimed in and fired his Assault Rifle, which had practically destroyed the Jackal's shield as it ate through the blue, then yellow shielding, before eating through the Jackal itself. This left the panicking Grunt open to Bradley, who finished him off with a three-round burst from the BR as soon as the aiming reticle on his HUD turned red.

The Grunt and Jackal were dead, but the Elite Major wasn't. In a scene all too familiar to him, the red-orange armored Elite sent one of his blue-armored underlings Forth, along with a batch of cannon fodder nearby, ever encroaching further on the friendly lines as the Covenant force as a whole began to move closer and closer. As Bradley saw the Elite reach behind his back to pull out a Plasma Grenade, he himself stopped shooting as the Elite seemed to pause, either in admiration, or in fear, or even both.

Billy practically kneed the fuck out of one of the Grunts in the face as a mistake for running too close to him whilst he was running up, sending the midget partially airborne and sliding across the floor before it was finished off in the crossfire. The sound of a shotgun racking caused one of the Elite Minor's jackals to look up in horror as the Bug Stomper fired, ignoring the jackal's wrist gauntlet shield completely as it blew it backwards towards one of the structural beams like a deflated balloon.

Another racking of the shotgun and a grunt was blasted away to hell by the PFC's shottie, before he pumped it one last time, aiming it straight at the blue boy straight ahead of him at nearly point blank range. Somehow, Billy had managed to weave through death itself to get to the Elite, even to the alien's surprise. As the Elite raised his Plasma Rifle to eliminate the human, the stock of the shotgun was sent up in his face, flashing his shields as he crumpled back, dazed. With his shields weakened, Billy fired first - the shotgun boomed once again as it blew through the Alien's shields and into his midsection, while another blast destroyed his face, causing his body to crumple over to the floor, dead before it even hit the floor.

In his frenzy Billy had forgotten that there was actually another Elite here - one more higher ranking and much more experienced than the Blue armored Minors. The orange-crimson armored Elite Major slowly reached behind his back, gunfire harmlessly bouncing off the shields over his ornamental armor. Bradley had only seen the blue glow of it in simulations and in helmet footage from QUASAR, and began to panic right away. If the sound of racking the pump of a shotgun was universally recognized as "kiss your ass goodbye," then the sound of an Energy Sword activating had to be universally recognized as "kiss your head goodbye."

Bradley made sure to alert everyone right away. "SWORD!"

The Major made a beeline for Billy, who pumped his shotgun, fired, and dealt pathetic damage to the Major's already flashing shields as he rushed through gunfire. Pretty soon, the Elite was within lunging distance, a distance only a Spartan could attempt to make, but Billy had also made one more major, devastating mistake.

The Major almost stopped in his tracks as he slowed down - he noticed that the human was right in front of another one of his bretheren, a shaky, pathetic-looking young female carrying a vaguely handgun-like device in her hands, which would've been clearly mistaken for a handgun had it not been for the large bulbous ordinance attached to the front of it.

It made for the perfect cocktail of doom - a berserk Elite Major with a sword in one hand and Plasma Rifle in the other, rushing straight at Billy, who had just stepped in front of the greenest and most easily-provoked member of the team: Maple.

Bradley cringed, then ducked for cover, hands over his head as he prayed the Spartan made it to the man before the Elite, if she even moved to intercept them, that is.

[Arengin Union]

First Lieutenant Julian "Jay" Hauser
UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
0127 Hours // September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time

"That all went well." Jay said as he inspected the now calm mess hall. The firefight had been intense, with humans and aliens alike falling dead to each other's weapons. Jay couldn't bear the sight, not that he hadn't seen anything like it or even worse, it simply didn't get easier to see so much death. For an ODST serving years in the military he hadn't come to adjust with the horror of war, even though he tried to hide his shock and distaste he knew deep inside how he truly felt.

After some bickering and a fight with an Ultra, quite the fucking shitshow, Master Chief came back from her little meeting with the captain. The group was led to the armory. Jay kept a solid face despite the many dead on the ground, he had ditched the shitty plasma pistol from the grunt for a more appropriate MA5B, with a full 60 round mag. The dead corporal he had pulled it from wouldn't be needing it anymore, as much as it pained Jay to do, desperate times were these. At least he had closed the marines eyes out of respect.

The slide doors of the armory opened and Jay's eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as the group began to arm up. Jay had not had the opportunity to pick his own weapons from stock, however he knew he had to be careful what to take, not the shitty silenced SMG of couse. The chief herself made clear what the situation was.

"Alright everyone listen up! Captain Keyes is scuttling the ship on a nearby artificial construct. A ring structure roughly 10 thousand klicks in diameter. It;s also where we're landing, but in a much smaller package. So grab what you can because we aren't gonna have another chance like this."

"Yes ma'am..." Jay said to himself as he began to check the various racks holding all types of rifles, shotguns, sidearms, explosive ordinance, you name it. The first instinct was arming himself with a knife, in all situations it was good to have one, at times necessary for survival. He grabbed one of the many combat knifes up on an opened crate, his original knife had been lost back in Reach, during those hectic moments to get into the Autumn. He set the knife on his sheath set on his upper right shoulder pad. Then he took a simple M6 pistol from the wall, loading it up with a full mag and holstering it on the right leg holster. As he saw more and more people grabbing extra ammo he made sure to take at least 6 magazines with it, putting them in his fatigue slack.

Next came main weapons. He felt that the MA5B would suffice, but he needed ammunition, not only did he begin grabbing 60 round mags, but also 32 round mags. He filled his ammunition pouches, each one filled with as many as he could fit. The same for the pockets on his pants. He then grabbed an M90 from the rack filled wit shotguns, beginning to load it up with shells. It was full. He then grabbed as many shells as he could, setting them on his ammunition pads on his right arm as well as his belt and his left armored boot.

The lieutenant was geared as he set the shotgun on his back and was ready to roll. He quickly made known he was willing to help in carrying any heavy weaponry or ammunition boxes or the like.

"Anyone that needs help with ammunition or carrying heavy weapons?!" He spoke behind his helmet trying to find anyway he could help. While also hearing that there were very few lifepods left. His usual smirks of nonchalantness had turned into one of terror as his heart beat began to pump faster.

The group then began to head out, following close to sergeant Grim and master chief. Soon the group got caught up with a big group of an assortment of covenant forces. Elites, a fucking Ulta, and cannon fodder. Jay didn't hesitate to open fire at the enemy as everyone else did. Emptying an entire 60 round magazine on several of the grunts coming towards them. Blue blood running everywhere as some of the surviving grunts began to run around in circles and others kept firing their weapons at the group, he counted 6 dead grunts as well as 1 dead jackal. The ODST quickly took cover among a metal plating of one of those empty machinegun posts. Plasma flying everywhere.

Code: Select all

1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> UNSC M6D Personal Defense Weapon System  [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> UNSC  MA5B Individual Combat Weapon System [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> UNSC Combat Knife [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> UNSC  M90 Close Assault Weapon System [EQUIPPED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> Grunt Minor x 6 [KILLED]
1st LT. Julian "Jay" Hauser --> Jackal Minor [KILLED]

[Tayner]

Sergeant Marc Wilson
UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Unknown Location
September 19, 2552 // 0128 Hours MST

The firefight in the mess hall didn't quite end with the last covenant solder being killed, just as the group relaxed Grimm spotted an Ultra that was cloaked. Eight shots resonated throughout the mess as the alien was dispatched in a swift manor. Marc took a few minutes to scan the room as others conversed, looking for another elite that wouldn't come. Although, when a hatch opened the group swung their weapons to the ready, they were greeted with another alien-like figure clad in olive drab armor.

Although this figure was on their side. Marc never got used to it, being around Spartans. They were good soldiers, the best, but they never seemed quite human. Although that wasn't to say Marc didn't have the utmost respect in them, or the absolute fear of their fists, which were the size of his skull. Bad stories and rumors were spread about how a single Spartan could easily overpowere a platoon and a half of ODSTs, and their support. Marc would be sure that he never found himself on the wrong side of a training mission.

His thoughts were interrupted my Matti flashing two fingers, representing kills. Marc would mirror the number of digits, claiming two kills for himself. Although Marc was sure his kills would win the drinking contest at the moment, there was probably a lot of fighting to be done before they got to a bar to drink in. After Dubbo made some comments about not being able to stand up in the puddles of blue blood, the group rallied behind the Spartan as they made their way to the armory.

"Take everything that isn't nailed down, and find a plasma cutter so we can cut away some stuff that is." Marc spoke with an authoritative tone, although he had no real authority in the squad.

Marc located his locker, the place where his M45E, a faithful weapon that served him well over the years, was secured in. He took the weapon, and secured it to a magnetic strip on his back before grabbing his sidearm and placing that in a holster on his waist. He then withdrew a more exotic weapon, a Type 1 Energy Sword, procured from a dead zealot at Sword Base back on Reach. He stowed the weapon away in a hardened pocket on his thigh, and started procuring ammunition. About a dozen Magnum rounds and nearly 75 shotgun shells all procured around his BDU, he reached to grab another weapon, a MA5B Assault Rifle.

However his eyes caught a glint of a rather large weapon, and immediately retracted his hand from the assault rifle to grab the new weapon that attracted his attention, a M247H HMG. He hefted the weapon, almost exhausting himself trying to hold it. He sighed as he thought of carrying it while being loaded, and placed it back where he found it. "One quick way to get a hernia." He thought to himself before finding the HMG's lighter, younger, and more attractive cousin, the AIE-486H HMG. The weapon itself was much lighter, and the smaller caliber ammunition would mean he could carry more, all the while managing to exponentially increase the pain dishing abilities he had.

He placed four ammo boxes in his ruck, withdrew the belt from one and draped it over his neck, and placed a fifth in his weapon. He realized he had about two minute's worth of munitions for the gun, and quickly sought out some ammo bearers. "Make yourself useful and grab a belt of 7.62 for me!" He asked Matti, to which the man kindly responded with a middle finger, one of his ways of saying yes. A few seconds later another old friend offered help, this time Bradley. Marc was suppressed to see that the egg head could make room for a box of munitions for Marc. "Thank you kindly, sir. Every box and belt counts." He said before nodding.

"Anyone that needs help with ammunition or carrying heavy weapons?!" Lieutenant Hauser asked.

"Aye sir, if you can take a box it'd be much appreciated." He said, handing off another box of 7.62 munitions. "Thank you, sir." He said. Although even with three ammo bearers Marc, found himself under equipped for a long-term engagement without the possibility of resupply. So he made a general call for assistance. "Volunteers for ammo bearers, front and center!" He hollered, a multitude of different people responding. The first two were some of Johnson's Marines, each taking a box. The next was a CWO2, who's name on Marc's HUD appeared as 'ENDR', who took a box, withdrew a belt, and haphazardly stuffing it into the last bit of room in his ruck before securing the bag.

Next was Specialist Novak, a corpswoman who made room for some extra ammo for Marc. "Thanks Specialist." Marc said, handing off the box. The last person in line caught him off guard though, it was the Spartan, Ingrid. "Ma'am." He said, offering a box to the super solder. She took the belt of ammo out and secured it to herself, a feat that she could've found room on her armor to fit the belt when so much was already covered in ammo. It was staggering when she took three more belts of ammo out of three more boxes, and also made room for them. "Thank you, Madter Chief, Ma'am." Marc said, before finding himself content with the amount of ammo bearers and ammo he had circulating throughout the group.

The group was soon on the move, Marc's footsteps especially heavy amongst the many heavy footfalls that thudded through the corridors. They found themselves nearly to the escape pods when they were cut off by the covenant. The team started to make quick work of the enemy covenant, and Marc joined in, putting fire in a group of Jackals that had formed a shield walll to defend some of the senior jackals and the Ultra. Marc depressed the trigger, and the AIE started booming away, progressively getting faster as the shield phalanx started flashing all different colors, until one shield gave, and the bullets tore through the Jackal and into a grunt behind him, the other jackals haphazardly trying to close the gap in their formation.

"Get some, ET!" Marc yelled over his weapon as his hud passed the halfway mark for his ammo belt, many of the enemy shields becoming dangerousness weak as they tried to return fire.