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    Bad John
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    Post  Bad John on July 29th 2015, 3:06 pm

    Lucy-B055 never gives ground. Socially, she could never be cowed or intimidated. Physically she could root herself, becoming immovable unless outright incapacitated.

    At war, she never retreated until ordered. With her rifle and her grit, even when overrun, she would tear pieces out of attackers until she was recalled for extraction. This quality made her perfect for this mission. Guarding a small pass as casualties were evacuated, Lucy planted her knee in the earth, holding her ground against a group of Covenant raiders.

    Her sniper rifle cracked, echoing loudly around her as her Deadeye-class mjolnir armor dampened the sound. She rarely bothered with silencers. She wanted the enemy to hear her.

    Her rifle was like the bark of a "Demon," each hateful sound piercing the heart of the foe stupid enough to move up on her position.

    Brutes rallied, calling for aid from their jackal compatriots. They charged, as the purple and black armored Spartan kept them at arm's length.

    "Lucy!" A voice called through her communications array. It was her trusted handler and benefactor Dr. Bailey. "We're sending support your way. We didn't know they're be coming at your side with so many. John and Maura have already cleared their objective!"

    Lucy grunted loud enough for Bailey to hear. She didn't like talking on the job, but she spoke a few quick words. "I'm fine here."

    She fired another shot, and a brute, holding a spike grenade, took an anti-material round to the heart. He barked with pain, tensing and falling backwards, his grenade lodging in the ground and exploding. A jackal scrambled away, but Lucy caught the fleeing kig-yar with a shot just below the eye. The creature's jaw was powderized as his body went limp, landing like a limp, insignificant trash-bag.

    Lucy paused, noticing three red dots on her HUD. They were directly above her. She glanced down, noticing a shadow. Her audio feed picked up the roar of Jump Jets.

    Living in slowed time, she had enough time to release a small sigh, before diving forward, rolling over her shoulder just before the brute landed right where she had been. The brute roared, and lurched forward. An idiotic mistake.

    The brute presumed that, as a sniper, Lucy was unskilled in close quarters. The Spartan III grasped her rifle, flipping it so the butt was forward, holding it like a baseball player stepping up to bat.

    The brute swung his claw, but she swung her rifle low, sweeping the brute's leg with a powerful blow. The jiralhanae dropped to one knee, as Lucy lifted her rifle and fired the last bullet in her magazine directly into the brute's face.

    The second red dot sprang towards her. She turned, spotting a grey, feathered skirmisher. The muscular kig yar had an energy cutlass. Lucy rotated her rifle in her hand, and swung the butt of the gun. With a smooth dodge, she evaded the the cutlass and shattered the skirmisher's kig-yar's beak. The skirmisher landed, blood leaking from his jaw. Lucy drew her long, dark, straight knife. She dropped her rifle, which was now frankly dented and useless, grasping the knife with both hands and bringing it around. Blood sprayed the dirt, as she turned and faced the last red dot on her radar.

    The red dot had been replaced with a yellow one. The brute was dead, and upon its back sat a jarringly large Spartan, who was flicking blood off of his knuckles.

    Lucy kept her knife raised, somewhat startled. She hadn't heard him arrive. She hadn't even heard blows landing, yet the brute's chest plate was dented and folded in. Had the Spartan done that with his bare hands?

    Even more curiously, the brute's skull was concave. This was damage that even her paramore John-B069 could produce, but so quickly, and without making a sound? Not even John could manage that.

    Lucy quickly spotted the three numbers on his chest plate. 115. This was a Spartan II. That explained his rather horrifying prowess.

    "You ruined your sniper, there." The blue armored Spartan pointed to the weapon. "Good moves, though. Catch." Spartan-115 tossed Lucy a weapon. A DMR. "Not as punchy, but you can gun-butt jiralhanae all day with it without bending it up."

    Lucy caught the weapon, shouldering it. "Thank you."

    "Spartan III, huh?" The man asked. "Most of the IVs don't have chops in CQB like yours yet. You and your team are pretty good."

    Lucy nodded. She turned and looked down range. The jiralhanae and kig-yar seemed to be dealing with something else, abandoning their assault. She could see a brute fall, wounded, submachine gun ammunition spraying. A shotgun blast went off, and she could see a kig-yar hitting the ground, pushed out of cover. John and Maura had arrived, and were tearing the enemy apart in close quarters, as they were wont to do.

    "Looks like your backup arrived. Best of luck, rifleman."

    After looking down-range for a moment, preparing to move in to support Maura and John, Lucy turned to thank her senior officer for giving her a hand. However, the Spartan II was already gone.

    Lucy pondered who he'd been. Spartan II commandos were rare.
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    Post  Shad0wChas3r on July 29th 2015, 5:16 pm

    I'm going to man up and say this; I squealed like a fucking school girl. No matter how hard I try, I can NEVER replicate your rendition of Blaine-115.

    I'm proud of what I can do, but whenever I read how you interpret the character... it's inspiring, honestly. It makes me want to go that extra mile.

    I appreciated this piece John, thank you.



    Thanks for Reading!

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