The Spartan closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. The ambient noises became increasingly muffled and inaudible as the countdown beeps became louder, almost blaring in her ear.
The green light flashed, the simulation starting. The Spartan sprinted forward, not opening her eyes until the third step forward. The fourth was her spring to jump high into the air. She looked down at on of her targets before her, the largest one in the middle the optimal choice for a primary attack. She was focused, coordinated, calculative, the polar opposite of her mentor.
Her knife impaled the elite's skull before her feet touched the floor. She abandoned the knife for now, looking to her left for an immediate attack. She was a little disappointed with the other elite's delayed reaction, allowing a quick kill with her side arm.
The Spartan checked her radar, a red dot approaching behind her. She ducked as she turned, which only added to the recoil of the uppercut. She forgot Elites don't normally stab people in the back. The larger than life elite minor went to fire its gun when the Spartan was able to pull off a reactionary shot with her magnum, right to the hand holding the handle of the plasma rifle. She was up immediately as the elite let out a cry of pain. He steps were staggered as she serpentined right to its face, snapping its neck in a fell swoop.
Brutes, large, loud, and ugly spawned behind the rag-dolling elite. The Spartan grabbed it by the collar, happy she had a smaller frame than most other Spartans her age. She wasn't, however, strong enough to do this for very long, so she had to make a move. Something simple and effective, like explosives. The Spartan struggled to hold up the dead elite with one hand as she armed a grenade and rolled it under the elite's legs.
The explosion went off with the cry of at least two brutes and a death rattle. The Spartan threw the elite down and grabbed her SMG from her hip. She sprayed a clip into the closest brute, who was dazed and injured from her grenade. It didn't last long.
The second brute, armored much more heavily than that of the other, was ready to battle by the time the Spartan was ready to battle. Not only that one, but the other two of similar rank as well. They attacked as a pack, a natural sensibility, roaring and gnashing their teeth as they did so.
To run would give them an advantage in this terrain-less combat zone. To fight hand-to-hand with all three would be foolish. The Spartan freaked, a million thoughts a second racing in her head as she began to step back. She couldn't run, she couldn't freak out, and she couldn't fail. As much as they would shrug it off in reality, the Spartan was too concerned with the people watching being disappointed, which was not an option.
The first three steps were large and leap-like, the fourth shorter and more controlled, and the fifth was just a foot to lead with as she fired her SMG into the leading brute.
Its shields broke from the rapid firing human weapon, but the brute charged liked a shark with its eyes rolled back into its head. She brought her weight back, and with nearly perfect timing, the Spartan brought that weight forward and lifted her following foot and spun herself behind it, smashing her heel into the side of the brute's head; swatting it to the side.
There was almost no time to react, the second and third close behind the leader. The second brute swiped at the Spartan with ferocity and a roar. She ducked down and rolled to her left, towards the leading brute. Grabbing the spiker, now years and years out of date, the Spartan fired it right into the eye socket of the second brute's helmet, making it writhe in pain with its back turned to the Spartan. As the third rushed towards her, she put three spikes into each of the downed brute's heads.
Now it was a one on one, a fight she could get into. The brute came in for a bear-hug, but the Spartan ducked in low and used its own momentum to roll it over her shoulder. She turned around, empty spiker useful now only as a knife. The brute came up quickly, landing a solid slash across her helmet, stunning the Spartan long enough for a knee to the gut. She fell to a knee, one hand on the floor. The brute, ruthless in its attack, put a hand around a fist and brought both down on the base of the the Spartan's neck, sending her completely to the floor.
For a second, the Spartan frantically moved, proving to herself she wasn't paralyzed, which was confirmed when she clenched her fist in pain as the brute grabbed her leg and tossed her across the floor. She was able to get to her feet, her body still low as the brute charged forward with murderous intent.
Everything went into a second-by-second trip. Every movement a slow and simple process. The jiggle of the brute's muscles, the clank of the remnants of the brute's armor, the gyration of the body as opposed to the heavy breathing of the Spartan's enemy. She planned everything out until the moment of the kill. Right as she was ready, the brute was in place.
Once more, the Spartan closed her eyes and breathed. The huff of the brute's panting the loudest noise around her as she jumped, throwing her weight forward. She spread her legs and bent her knees slightly as she shifted her weight and focus to the lower half of her body, slamming the backs of her knees onto the shoulders of the brute. She wrapped her feet together, brought her knees in close to crush the neck a little bit, threw her head back and brought her legs with her, using the enemy's forward momentum of its run against it once again.
The brute hit the floor, the Spartan now sitting on its chest. It roared as it brought its arm up to attack, but the gun pointed to its face was faster, the arm lightly smacking against the Spartan's shoulder.
Simulation Complete the robotic voice announced, the open combat sequence now completed by the Spartan.
She exited the simulator, a fairly large, brown skinned man greeting her with a hug.
"Way to go, princess." The man said, pride and joy in his voice.
"Thanks dad." The Spartan replied, embracing and returning her father's hug.
"But, you need to work on your mindset, Aud. You're so calculated and planned ahead, when something unexpected happens, you freak. We'll work on that at home, but you did better than I did when I was your age." Her father commented, his reluctance to teach as a father overcome by his pride in her skill.
Vance looked into his 17 year old daughter's visor, not able to see her face. He saw himself in her, wanting desperately to warn her away from this life. Fighting, hurting, killing, dying. His life was shit because of it, but he also loved what he did. The friends he made, the memories he'll always carry with him.
She may have it the same as he did, she may have it much better, or she could have it so much worse. But she was stubborn. He had more of a chance becoming a guru of love and peace than convincing her to not be like her hero...
The Master Chief.
The green light flashed, the simulation starting. The Spartan sprinted forward, not opening her eyes until the third step forward. The fourth was her spring to jump high into the air. She looked down at on of her targets before her, the largest one in the middle the optimal choice for a primary attack. She was focused, coordinated, calculative, the polar opposite of her mentor.
Her knife impaled the elite's skull before her feet touched the floor. She abandoned the knife for now, looking to her left for an immediate attack. She was a little disappointed with the other elite's delayed reaction, allowing a quick kill with her side arm.
The Spartan checked her radar, a red dot approaching behind her. She ducked as she turned, which only added to the recoil of the uppercut. She forgot Elites don't normally stab people in the back. The larger than life elite minor went to fire its gun when the Spartan was able to pull off a reactionary shot with her magnum, right to the hand holding the handle of the plasma rifle. She was up immediately as the elite let out a cry of pain. He steps were staggered as she serpentined right to its face, snapping its neck in a fell swoop.
Brutes, large, loud, and ugly spawned behind the rag-dolling elite. The Spartan grabbed it by the collar, happy she had a smaller frame than most other Spartans her age. She wasn't, however, strong enough to do this for very long, so she had to make a move. Something simple and effective, like explosives. The Spartan struggled to hold up the dead elite with one hand as she armed a grenade and rolled it under the elite's legs.
The explosion went off with the cry of at least two brutes and a death rattle. The Spartan threw the elite down and grabbed her SMG from her hip. She sprayed a clip into the closest brute, who was dazed and injured from her grenade. It didn't last long.
The second brute, armored much more heavily than that of the other, was ready to battle by the time the Spartan was ready to battle. Not only that one, but the other two of similar rank as well. They attacked as a pack, a natural sensibility, roaring and gnashing their teeth as they did so.
To run would give them an advantage in this terrain-less combat zone. To fight hand-to-hand with all three would be foolish. The Spartan freaked, a million thoughts a second racing in her head as she began to step back. She couldn't run, she couldn't freak out, and she couldn't fail. As much as they would shrug it off in reality, the Spartan was too concerned with the people watching being disappointed, which was not an option.
The first three steps were large and leap-like, the fourth shorter and more controlled, and the fifth was just a foot to lead with as she fired her SMG into the leading brute.
Its shields broke from the rapid firing human weapon, but the brute charged liked a shark with its eyes rolled back into its head. She brought her weight back, and with nearly perfect timing, the Spartan brought that weight forward and lifted her following foot and spun herself behind it, smashing her heel into the side of the brute's head; swatting it to the side.
There was almost no time to react, the second and third close behind the leader. The second brute swiped at the Spartan with ferocity and a roar. She ducked down and rolled to her left, towards the leading brute. Grabbing the spiker, now years and years out of date, the Spartan fired it right into the eye socket of the second brute's helmet, making it writhe in pain with its back turned to the Spartan. As the third rushed towards her, she put three spikes into each of the downed brute's heads.
Now it was a one on one, a fight she could get into. The brute came in for a bear-hug, but the Spartan ducked in low and used its own momentum to roll it over her shoulder. She turned around, empty spiker useful now only as a knife. The brute came up quickly, landing a solid slash across her helmet, stunning the Spartan long enough for a knee to the gut. She fell to a knee, one hand on the floor. The brute, ruthless in its attack, put a hand around a fist and brought both down on the base of the the Spartan's neck, sending her completely to the floor.
For a second, the Spartan frantically moved, proving to herself she wasn't paralyzed, which was confirmed when she clenched her fist in pain as the brute grabbed her leg and tossed her across the floor. She was able to get to her feet, her body still low as the brute charged forward with murderous intent.
Everything went into a second-by-second trip. Every movement a slow and simple process. The jiggle of the brute's muscles, the clank of the remnants of the brute's armor, the gyration of the body as opposed to the heavy breathing of the Spartan's enemy. She planned everything out until the moment of the kill. Right as she was ready, the brute was in place.
Once more, the Spartan closed her eyes and breathed. The huff of the brute's panting the loudest noise around her as she jumped, throwing her weight forward. She spread her legs and bent her knees slightly as she shifted her weight and focus to the lower half of her body, slamming the backs of her knees onto the shoulders of the brute. She wrapped her feet together, brought her knees in close to crush the neck a little bit, threw her head back and brought her legs with her, using the enemy's forward momentum of its run against it once again.
The brute hit the floor, the Spartan now sitting on its chest. It roared as it brought its arm up to attack, but the gun pointed to its face was faster, the arm lightly smacking against the Spartan's shoulder.
Simulation Complete the robotic voice announced, the open combat sequence now completed by the Spartan.
She exited the simulator, a fairly large, brown skinned man greeting her with a hug.
"Way to go, princess." The man said, pride and joy in his voice.
"Thanks dad." The Spartan replied, embracing and returning her father's hug.
"But, you need to work on your mindset, Aud. You're so calculated and planned ahead, when something unexpected happens, you freak. We'll work on that at home, but you did better than I did when I was your age." Her father commented, his reluctance to teach as a father overcome by his pride in her skill.
Vance looked into his 17 year old daughter's visor, not able to see her face. He saw himself in her, wanting desperately to warn her away from this life. Fighting, hurting, killing, dying. His life was shit because of it, but he also loved what he did. The friends he made, the memories he'll always carry with him.
She may have it the same as he did, she may have it much better, or she could have it so much worse. But she was stubborn. He had more of a chance becoming a guru of love and peace than convincing her to not be like her hero...
The Master Chief.
