A little drabble with John-B069 as a youngster in SPI armor, defending Dr. Bailey as they evacuate a base being overtaken by Covenant forces.
Trying to capture the danger and pain of fighting a larger opponent, without the happy little boost that Mjolnir provides. I hope you like it.
And if you don't, a pox on thy house.
Just a small one, tho. 'Cause I care.
_______________________
Klaxons blared loudly as human footfalls rung through the hallway. The red lights lining the corners between the wall and ceiling were blinding to Dr. Bailey, who couldn't help but clutch her forehead. The situation was frightening, and new, and visceral, and she'd had a headache all day.
Worst of all, she was being ushered faster than her feet could follow by one of her "kids." John-B069, clad in a matte grey suit of armor, had one hand on her shoulder and one on the handle of an assault-rifle. "This way, Doc." John's hand dug somewhat painfully into Bailey's shoulder as he turned a corner. She winced, and he paused, staring down at her with his bright, full shield helmet. She could feel him relax slightly, likely worried that he was hurting her, but terribly stressed by the situation. "You have to keep up. We can't stay here."
"I know. I know. I'm just not as fast as you. Lead on." Bailey resolved to speed up, but she quickly found that despite her best efforts, even his relaxed running speed wasn't something she could replicate. In an instant, her feet weren't touching the ground at all.
"Sorry sorry sorry," John repeated the word loudly at first, then under his breath as he simply scooped Bailey up and carried her. She resented the sudden maneuver at first, but then realized it was for the best.
It was then that Bailey noticed the splashes of black on the back of his armor. Burn marks. "...Were you hit?"
"Just twice. I'm fine." John-B069 was putting on a brave face, but the prototype shielding on his back had been destroyed, and his shoulderblade, beneath his armor, had suffered third degree burns. "Just try to-"
John froze, and Bailey could feel his weight suddenly shift. The wind was knocked out of her lungs as he dropped to one knee, and two bolts of plasma whizzed over her head. As Bailey was lowered to the floor, she frantically turned, spotting John's targets as he opened fire.
Several grunts were on the other side of the hall, and green globs of plasma were flaring from their guns. However. John was fast enough to dodge, and quick on the draw, even when firing left-handed. The first grunt was shredded, and the other two desperately fell back to cover as John stood; grunting and tossing aside the spent assault rifle, John cracked his knuckles. "Stay here, stay down, and scream if anything comes near you. Okay?"
"Wait!" Bailey called out, but John had already turned the corner. She could hear blows landing and bones breaking. A splash of blood struck the far wall as she watched shadows dance.
Everything was so loud and fast, and the Doctor felt terribly, terribly small.
Bailey turned and spotted a grunt just a meter behind her. Even the least of the Covenant was a lethal threat to an untrained scientist. The creature dipped for its plasma pistol. Bailey's eyes widened, and she remembered there was a magnum beneath her lab-coat, strapped to the small of her back. She yanked it free of its holster and brought it around. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fired three bullets.
The unggoy's plasma pistol sparked. It was stricken twice and destroyed. Bailey opened her eyes, her hands shaking. She had the grunt dead to rights. The alien yipped and lifted his hands, visibly trembling.
The two faced each-other. The gun felt heavy and hot in her grip, as if literal and metaphorical gravity was setting in. Bailey had often wondered if she could take a life.
She shut her eyes and fired again. Despite her conviction to kill in order to survive, her bullet was a clean miss this time. The unggoy, capitalizing on the opportunity, drew a small hunting dagger and leapt forward.
John, however, was up for the challenge of killing. Like a metallic panther, he sprang onto the grunt, the two rolling away from Bailey. Pinning its arms, with a war cry that sent a terrible chill up the doctor's spine, he plunged his hands into the grunt's face, fishing out his eyes, then crumpling the alien's gas mask.
His fists finished the gruesome task. He threw several jabs that sounded like gunfire. The unggoy's combat harness dented. The kill would have been child's play normally, but John was wounded and running on fumes. He stood, and started towards Bailey. "Good shooting, Doctor. Do you have an extra cli-"
A larger shadow appeared behind John, as a beast with leathery skin appeared. Bailey at first wondered if it was human, before rapidly drawing a negative conclusion. The beast had four sharp claws, and stubby, two toed feet. Its chest was wrapped in a strange, metallic loin-cloth.
The deprived, depraved, berserking Jiralhanae trotted forward, half sprinting and half clawing along on all fours like a bear, his teeth displayed in an open, foaming grin. He didn't want to FIGHT the humans.
In his berserking state, riddled with bullets and covered in both human blood, and the blood of his lesser unggoy underlings, he could only register the fact that he was hungry.
John moved in front of the brute, dropping to the side and swinging his leg. He managed to trip the creature with the low kick. The brute landed on his chin, his teeth clacking together, only a foot away from the doctor. The Jiralhanae stared Bailey in the eyes, before lurching to his feet and making a wild grab for her.
The Spartan III would not allow it, latching onto the jiralhanae's ankle and tugging, pulling the creature back. "BAILEY! BACK UP!" He sprang onto the Brute's back, affixing a tight full nelson on the thrashing leatherback. The brute reared up to his full height, lifting John off his feet. The Spartan's lock was secure, and the brute had genuine trouble fighting it. Instead, the jiralhanae simply slammed his back against the wall, sandwiching the Spartan.
The burn wound on John's shoulderblade demanded immediate attention. John's grip loosened, but he stayed on the offensive. Dropping down to the brute's side, he thrust his foot against the inside of the jiralhanae's knee. He felt bones break, and the brute barked. The creature swung his claw, but John ducked, landing a crisp uppercut. The brute's tongue was severed by the blow, accidentally biting it off.
The brute stood and grabbed the Spartan III by the throat, but John snapped its finger. He stepped in and threw a combination of punches, forcing the brute back against the wall. However, the brute lifted his broken leg and kicked, sending the Spartan flying backwards.
Bailey watched, dumbstruck. John was up to his eyeballs in fighting the beast, and he seemed, at this point, to be losing. She lifted her pistol and without a second thought, she fired. "FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF OF HIM, DIRTY BRAVO KILO MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Adrenaline coursed through her as her bullets peppered the brute. The shots weren't lethal, but they were certainly making the creature unhappy.
John stood. His visor was cracked, and his chest plate was dented, but he was still alive. He took a step, and threw a roundhouse up and into the brute's chest. The blow downed the creature, giving John a chance to go for the throat. He pounced, and dug his fingers into the brute's neck, his hands closing like the jaws of a black mouthed cur biting at the throat of wolf.
The jiralhanae's claws worked frantically over the Spartan's body. John's armor was torn from his shoulders as the brute raked. Blood dripped, but eventually the brute went slack. John didn't let up. As a matter of fact, he gripped harder, his hands shaking, worrying the brute's throat until it snapped under his hands.
With that, the Spartan stood. He checked himself for broken bones. His armor was beyond repair, sections of shredded, bleeding skin clearly visible to the Doctor.
Bailey muttered to herself, horrified to see one of her Spartans in this condition. "Oh, god no, not this. Not this, not this." She stood and walked to him, but was unsure how to embrace him without doing more harm than good. John held out his hand.
"Pistol?" He requested. Bailey carefully placed the gun in his hand, and he shrugged off his gauntlets, the undersuit of his armor peeling off. His arms were bare, and his chestplate had fallen off. "Right on. It's still got a few bullets left." With that, John continued to usher Bailey along.
Soon enough, he came to the Pelican that was waiting on them. Zimm, Maura, and Lucy were horrified at the shape he was in, and he immediately collapsed when the bird took off.
Bailey, sitting at his side as the Pelican escaped the overtaken military base, had no words, or tears.
Only cold resolve.
_____________________________
"This is...super weird."
Years later, John-B069 was the first of Bailey's Spartan IIIs to try on their new standard issue armor. Mjolnir GEN2. "It's like it knows what I'm going to do."
Bailey, having designed the specific set for him, watched over a steaming cup of coffee. Years older and wiser, she had a single strand of silver hair. She'd spent long nights slaving away over a drafting table, then she'd spent longer days arguing bitterly with the UNSC and the Material's Group to make this happen. In the end, it took a lot of money out of her pocket.
"Do you like it?" Bailey asked. It was a far-cry from even his newest, most advanced SPI armor. Sleek, with a reinforced full shield visor, brown armor plating and a jet black bodysuit, it was designed to give a beating, and escape incoming fire.
"It'll take some getting used to, but it feels...AWESOME." John clenched his fist in front of his face. "Look at me now. Generation Two Mjolnir Armor. I can't wait to lord this shit over the next Spartan II I see. I heard Black Team is still schlepping around in their Mark VI rigs." He waved his hand, like a traveller handing their hand out of a car window. "I'm ready to run as many tests as you need, doc."
Bailey stood, and nodded. "Well, we'll start with a few shielding cycle tests, then we'll test your locomotion and thrusters."
The Doctor beamed with pride at her creation. Her Spartan IIIs had protected her more times than she could count.
Now, with this armor, she could protect them.
Trying to capture the danger and pain of fighting a larger opponent, without the happy little boost that Mjolnir provides. I hope you like it.
And if you don't, a pox on thy house.
Just a small one, tho. 'Cause I care.
_______________________
Klaxons blared loudly as human footfalls rung through the hallway. The red lights lining the corners between the wall and ceiling were blinding to Dr. Bailey, who couldn't help but clutch her forehead. The situation was frightening, and new, and visceral, and she'd had a headache all day.
Worst of all, she was being ushered faster than her feet could follow by one of her "kids." John-B069, clad in a matte grey suit of armor, had one hand on her shoulder and one on the handle of an assault-rifle. "This way, Doc." John's hand dug somewhat painfully into Bailey's shoulder as he turned a corner. She winced, and he paused, staring down at her with his bright, full shield helmet. She could feel him relax slightly, likely worried that he was hurting her, but terribly stressed by the situation. "You have to keep up. We can't stay here."
"I know. I know. I'm just not as fast as you. Lead on." Bailey resolved to speed up, but she quickly found that despite her best efforts, even his relaxed running speed wasn't something she could replicate. In an instant, her feet weren't touching the ground at all.
"Sorry sorry sorry," John repeated the word loudly at first, then under his breath as he simply scooped Bailey up and carried her. She resented the sudden maneuver at first, but then realized it was for the best.
It was then that Bailey noticed the splashes of black on the back of his armor. Burn marks. "...Were you hit?"
"Just twice. I'm fine." John-B069 was putting on a brave face, but the prototype shielding on his back had been destroyed, and his shoulderblade, beneath his armor, had suffered third degree burns. "Just try to-"
John froze, and Bailey could feel his weight suddenly shift. The wind was knocked out of her lungs as he dropped to one knee, and two bolts of plasma whizzed over her head. As Bailey was lowered to the floor, she frantically turned, spotting John's targets as he opened fire.
Several grunts were on the other side of the hall, and green globs of plasma were flaring from their guns. However. John was fast enough to dodge, and quick on the draw, even when firing left-handed. The first grunt was shredded, and the other two desperately fell back to cover as John stood; grunting and tossing aside the spent assault rifle, John cracked his knuckles. "Stay here, stay down, and scream if anything comes near you. Okay?"
"Wait!" Bailey called out, but John had already turned the corner. She could hear blows landing and bones breaking. A splash of blood struck the far wall as she watched shadows dance.
Everything was so loud and fast, and the Doctor felt terribly, terribly small.
Bailey turned and spotted a grunt just a meter behind her. Even the least of the Covenant was a lethal threat to an untrained scientist. The creature dipped for its plasma pistol. Bailey's eyes widened, and she remembered there was a magnum beneath her lab-coat, strapped to the small of her back. She yanked it free of its holster and brought it around. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fired three bullets.
The unggoy's plasma pistol sparked. It was stricken twice and destroyed. Bailey opened her eyes, her hands shaking. She had the grunt dead to rights. The alien yipped and lifted his hands, visibly trembling.
The two faced each-other. The gun felt heavy and hot in her grip, as if literal and metaphorical gravity was setting in. Bailey had often wondered if she could take a life.
She shut her eyes and fired again. Despite her conviction to kill in order to survive, her bullet was a clean miss this time. The unggoy, capitalizing on the opportunity, drew a small hunting dagger and leapt forward.
John, however, was up for the challenge of killing. Like a metallic panther, he sprang onto the grunt, the two rolling away from Bailey. Pinning its arms, with a war cry that sent a terrible chill up the doctor's spine, he plunged his hands into the grunt's face, fishing out his eyes, then crumpling the alien's gas mask.
His fists finished the gruesome task. He threw several jabs that sounded like gunfire. The unggoy's combat harness dented. The kill would have been child's play normally, but John was wounded and running on fumes. He stood, and started towards Bailey. "Good shooting, Doctor. Do you have an extra cli-"
A larger shadow appeared behind John, as a beast with leathery skin appeared. Bailey at first wondered if it was human, before rapidly drawing a negative conclusion. The beast had four sharp claws, and stubby, two toed feet. Its chest was wrapped in a strange, metallic loin-cloth.
The deprived, depraved, berserking Jiralhanae trotted forward, half sprinting and half clawing along on all fours like a bear, his teeth displayed in an open, foaming grin. He didn't want to FIGHT the humans.
In his berserking state, riddled with bullets and covered in both human blood, and the blood of his lesser unggoy underlings, he could only register the fact that he was hungry.
John moved in front of the brute, dropping to the side and swinging his leg. He managed to trip the creature with the low kick. The brute landed on his chin, his teeth clacking together, only a foot away from the doctor. The Jiralhanae stared Bailey in the eyes, before lurching to his feet and making a wild grab for her.
The Spartan III would not allow it, latching onto the jiralhanae's ankle and tugging, pulling the creature back. "BAILEY! BACK UP!" He sprang onto the Brute's back, affixing a tight full nelson on the thrashing leatherback. The brute reared up to his full height, lifting John off his feet. The Spartan's lock was secure, and the brute had genuine trouble fighting it. Instead, the jiralhanae simply slammed his back against the wall, sandwiching the Spartan.
The burn wound on John's shoulderblade demanded immediate attention. John's grip loosened, but he stayed on the offensive. Dropping down to the brute's side, he thrust his foot against the inside of the jiralhanae's knee. He felt bones break, and the brute barked. The creature swung his claw, but John ducked, landing a crisp uppercut. The brute's tongue was severed by the blow, accidentally biting it off.
The brute stood and grabbed the Spartan III by the throat, but John snapped its finger. He stepped in and threw a combination of punches, forcing the brute back against the wall. However, the brute lifted his broken leg and kicked, sending the Spartan flying backwards.
Bailey watched, dumbstruck. John was up to his eyeballs in fighting the beast, and he seemed, at this point, to be losing. She lifted her pistol and without a second thought, she fired. "FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF OF HIM, DIRTY BRAVO KILO MOTHERFUCKER!!!" Adrenaline coursed through her as her bullets peppered the brute. The shots weren't lethal, but they were certainly making the creature unhappy.
John stood. His visor was cracked, and his chest plate was dented, but he was still alive. He took a step, and threw a roundhouse up and into the brute's chest. The blow downed the creature, giving John a chance to go for the throat. He pounced, and dug his fingers into the brute's neck, his hands closing like the jaws of a black mouthed cur biting at the throat of wolf.
The jiralhanae's claws worked frantically over the Spartan's body. John's armor was torn from his shoulders as the brute raked. Blood dripped, but eventually the brute went slack. John didn't let up. As a matter of fact, he gripped harder, his hands shaking, worrying the brute's throat until it snapped under his hands.
With that, the Spartan stood. He checked himself for broken bones. His armor was beyond repair, sections of shredded, bleeding skin clearly visible to the Doctor.
Bailey muttered to herself, horrified to see one of her Spartans in this condition. "Oh, god no, not this. Not this, not this." She stood and walked to him, but was unsure how to embrace him without doing more harm than good. John held out his hand.
"Pistol?" He requested. Bailey carefully placed the gun in his hand, and he shrugged off his gauntlets, the undersuit of his armor peeling off. His arms were bare, and his chestplate had fallen off. "Right on. It's still got a few bullets left." With that, John continued to usher Bailey along.
Soon enough, he came to the Pelican that was waiting on them. Zimm, Maura, and Lucy were horrified at the shape he was in, and he immediately collapsed when the bird took off.
Bailey, sitting at his side as the Pelican escaped the overtaken military base, had no words, or tears.
Only cold resolve.
_____________________________
"This is...super weird."
Years later, John-B069 was the first of Bailey's Spartan IIIs to try on their new standard issue armor. Mjolnir GEN2. "It's like it knows what I'm going to do."
Bailey, having designed the specific set for him, watched over a steaming cup of coffee. Years older and wiser, she had a single strand of silver hair. She'd spent long nights slaving away over a drafting table, then she'd spent longer days arguing bitterly with the UNSC and the Material's Group to make this happen. In the end, it took a lot of money out of her pocket.
"Do you like it?" Bailey asked. It was a far-cry from even his newest, most advanced SPI armor. Sleek, with a reinforced full shield visor, brown armor plating and a jet black bodysuit, it was designed to give a beating, and escape incoming fire.
"It'll take some getting used to, but it feels...AWESOME." John clenched his fist in front of his face. "Look at me now. Generation Two Mjolnir Armor. I can't wait to lord this shit over the next Spartan II I see. I heard Black Team is still schlepping around in their Mark VI rigs." He waved his hand, like a traveller handing their hand out of a car window. "I'm ready to run as many tests as you need, doc."
Bailey stood, and nodded. "Well, we'll start with a few shielding cycle tests, then we'll test your locomotion and thrusters."
The Doctor beamed with pride at her creation. Her Spartan IIIs had protected her more times than she could count.
Now, with this armor, she could protect them.
.