Operation Toreador (IC)

"Neither plan I am about to suggest is ideal but we are poorly prepared for such a task," Manuel said. He was no longer afraid of speaking, no longer worried about interaction. He didn't even wait for a reply to his comment.

"The best explosives we have are grenades, so we must use them wisely. I believe the most effective use of the grenades would be to have them explode near the rear of the wraiths, in their engines," Manuel said, observing the enemies below.

"I can attempt to plant those plasma grenades," Manuel said pointing at Autumn's grenades.

"And those spike grenades," Manuel then pointed to John's belt before continuing.

"Onto the wraiths while camouflaged. My statement may seem lofty, but I assure you this is well within my skill set; I have fooled elites with their own technology before. However, should I require assistance, I will request it," Manuel said, nodding to affirm his statement. He was asking these Spartans to put a considerable amount of trust in him despite having just met. However, he didn't care much for social protocol, he only cared about results on the field.

"Having those ghosts on our side would be also helpful, but boarding may be difficult with such powerful tanks nearby. If the opportunity presents itself, I say take advantage of it. Perhaps use them to distract the wraiths while I plant the grenades. If we do not see the chance to board them, then we should not try to force it. We will lose the element of surprise," Manuel said, eyeing the ghosts. He preferred his first plan, as it made him less dependant on the others, but he was aware that they may want to participate to make sure things go well. Of course, that was assuming either of his plans were chosen.

"If someone happens to have a better idea, I wish to hear it. As previously stated, neither of these plans is ideal," Manuel said, looking at each Spartan there. For a man that had spoken very little this entire mission, this was quite a change. Then again, anything related to combat made him feel much more confident... and not really care about much else.

John nodded, then turned his head to Manny, standing a meter away from him. "...I think if anyone can pull off a stealth stunt like that, you probably can. I've never doubted a Spartan II, and I've never lived to regret it. Unfortunately, I don't think Stealth will cut it here."

The Spartan pointed his finger towards the wraiths. "That jiralhanae patrol probably made us before returning to base. Odds are the first grenade you plant, they'll know exactly what's going on, we'll lose the element of surprise, and you'll have to wait for us to catch up. I say we go with your second idea."

The Spartan III patted his fist in his palm. "We'll hold 'em while you punch. While we distract the enemy, you take out the Wraiths." John unlatched his Spike Grenades, handing them over to Manuel. "If that's alright with you. And of course, the boss." The Spartan looked towards Autumn, who was leading their small strike team. "Besides, I don't like to sit on my hands and let other people get the job done."

"I agree with John, Blaine said the tangos were neutralized. But that doesn't mean they didn't radio our presence in before they could give us away." Autumn said, handing the plasma grenades at her disposal to Manuel. "I have an active camo module. If John and Vance can cover my six, I can 'borrow' one of those Ghosts, give you the distraction you need."

"I don't think I like the idea of you doing that, Autumn." Blaine replied over comm.

"But you'd be fine with any of the others doing it? Look, I can do this. It isn't my first rodeo."

"... Fine. John, Vance, cover my lady. Manuel, get it done. I'm prepping for boots on the ground. Godspeed Spartans."

"Yes sir," Manuel replied rigidly, almost as if Blaine hinself had said it in person. It was instinctive since he was used to hearing "get it done" and usually understanding that failure was unacceptable.

"We must get closer," Manuel said to Autumn, nodding his head towards a slight slope on the side of the cliff. However it did not extend all the way to ground; they would have to climb the rest. The only concern Manuel had was possibly alerting the enemy, since armored soldiers looked much different from rocks. The shade it provided offered some sort of camoflouge for his black suit, so he would go first.

"I believe this is the only way down, and it is not complete. We'll have to climb some, but this side is not facing them and is covered in shade. Hopefully we are not spotted," Manuel said, motioning for the rest to follow.

He began walking down the slope before reaching the edge and positioning himself to climb the rest. He slowly tested the strength of the rocks, eventually putting his full weight on them. They were holding up fine; so far so good.

Eventually the group made their way down without incident and approached the enemy, sneaking around and hiding behind cover whenever they could. Once the other three were in position Manuel spoke softly into the coms.

"I'll get closer to the wraiths, you go ahead and distract them," Manuel then slowly walked away, keeping an eye on his team mates' actions to know when to cloak.

With a curt nod, Autumn engaged her active camouflage, her modified pistol at the ready. Holding it steady, she began to trot in the direction of the Ghost, careful to keep her footsteps as silent as possible. With no grenades on her person, if the Ghost had spotted her, she could very well have been done for.

Almost within arms reach now, she noticed that the camouflage was starting to fail. Instinctually, she raised her pistol towards the Grunt that had been napping inside of the Ghost.

Well, they wanted a distraction. Autumn mentally sighed, before pulling the trigger.

There was a pop from the silenced pistol, as the Grunt snarled once, falling to the ground with a plop. The Sangheili standing near the Wraiths jumped to action, Autumn guessed they had in fact been warned by the Jiralhanae that the Spartans were coming.

Jumping into the cockpit of the Ghost, her expertise in Sangheili arms and vehicles allowed her to start the Ghost faster than most Spartans. Initiating an immediate boost, trails of blue plasma from the Wraith's cannons, not to mention the other Ghosts, followed her.

Initiating the hand brake, she spun on the spot, unloading her own plasma salvo into the nearest Ghost. One bolt skimmed the top of a Grunt's head, the tiny alien screaming in pain as the plasma slowly melted down it's skull.

Her eyes opened wide, however, as the quad of Wraiths primed their main guns, aiming towards her.

"Our sensors are picking up a lot of gunfire down there, is everything alright?" Blaine barked.

"Couldn't be better." Autumn growled, spinning on the spot and boosting away from giant green beams of molten plasma.

"I'm a little delayed, someone was late to the party. Mount up Spartan, we're dropping the second those Wraiths are down.." Blaine continued. "Darryl just confirmed that he's successfully refueled. Perhaps you want an Assault run on those Wraiths while they're distracted?"

If you guys want to avoid the Wraiths altogether, we can request an Assault Run with the Golden Eagle. It'll bring some dirty fireworks, but we'll be able to skip over the Wraiths to let Blaine and Jensen into the party.

Likewise, we can stay our course and do it the way we're going. The choice is entirely up to you. If you DO decide to do an assault run, Blaine and Jensen will be on board the Golden Eagle, and dropped off the second those Wraiths die.

Otherwise it's SOEIV Pod city.

With all eyes on Autumn, John almost went completely unnoticed. The Spartan didn't like that. One of the jiralhanae present was preparing a brute shot. The Spartan III aimed for that. Breaking into a sprint, he tore across the field towards the brute, and his lance of jackals and grunts.

The moment he was in range, John leapt and turned his hip, thrusting a flying side-kick into the brute minor's head. The jiralhanae, his power armor shattered and his skull broken, dropped like a domino, landing with a powerful thud. John immediately snatched the brute shot by its forward handle, but not to fire. He slung it around as if the heavy weapon were a weapon in a pillow-fight. The blade slashed across a t'vaoan skirmisher's chest, cutting deep and killing with a single strike.

The remaining jackals and grunts lifted their guns, and it seemed they had the Spartan dead to rights. However, as their plasma pistols and storm rifles opened fire, John lifted his left forearm and braced it. His hardlight shield flared to life, the blue, opaque wall deflecting the enemy fire. One of the grunts was outright killed by the hail of returned plasma pistol rounds.

John snatched his submachine gun from his hip, aiming with one arm and opening fire. The precise, impactful hail of lead put lethal rivets in the jackals and grunts. With smoking holes in their arms, heads, and necks, the lesser Covenant dropped.

Behind me. John noticed a shadow washing over him, and a single red dot on his motion tracker. A jiralhanae major had both fists raised, and was about to attempt to beat the soldier down. The Spartan sprang backwards, and thrust his elbow up and to the side, catching the jiralhanae just above the lip, snapping the brute's head back. The enemy was hurt by the blow, but not debilitated.

"<I'LL GUT YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!!!>" In the jiralhanae's language, the brute uttered a high, guttural curse, swinging his fists. John dodged and redirected each angry strike, using careful, precise force, before turning the tables. He swung his palm around, striking the brute's jaw, then leapt, thrusting his knee up and into the jiralhanae's chin. As the brute stumbled back, shielding his damaged face, John sprang up, and brought his fist down in a superman punch. The brute's head twisted at a wrong angle, his tongue swinging blood and saliva onto the dirt. The brute major landed on the ground, broken and still.

John activated his hardlight shield, deflecting another lance's needle-rounds and spike rifle fire as he scrambled to a nearby rock for respite. He slid behind cover and reloaded his submachine gun. Part of him wanted to impress whoever would watch the footage on his helmet's inbuilt camera for the debriefing. However, he was more interested in impressing his Spartan II fireteam member. Having spent years in rapt hero-worship regarding the Spartan IIs, it was time for them to be impressed.

Name: John B069
Health: Actually pretty damn pleased with himself.
Weapons and Ammo
DMG SMG: 19/20 Clips
M6C: 15/15 Clips
Grenades: 2 Frags, 2 Thermite

Ordinance Utilized: One clip of DMG SMG ammo, and Spike Grenades handed over to Manuel.
Enemies Terminated: 1 Jiralhanae Major, 1 Jiralhanae Minor, 3 Unggoy Minors, 2 Kig-yar Minors, 1 T'vaoan Minor
Total Kills: 8

Manuel cloaked as Autumn moved into position, travelling as quickly as he could while keeping his cloak. Once the action began, he moved faster since the enemy was busy dealing with John.

Grabbing the two plasma grenades and moving into position, Manuel whipped the two of them at the wraiths' engines. Before they could even land however, Manuel had pulled out the two spike grenades and whipped them at the remaining two wraiths. Throwing some grenades was a very simple task for a super soldier, and his team mates were doing a very good job of being a distraction, so all of his grenades landed on their targets. Within a few moments, the grenades exploded severely crippling whatever wraiths had managed to survive.

Shortly afterwards, his cloak disappeared and a nearby Brute charged him. Manuel stood still, waiting for the beast to get closer. As the Brute leaped Manuel stepped underneath it, grabbed it by the legs, and pulled it down to the ground with enough force to collapse its' shields and daze the beast. Before it could get up, Manuel stomped on it's head, leaving behind a gooey mess of whatever brains the beast had. Slowly picking up the fallen Brute's brute shot, he turned his attention to the remaining wraiths and opened fire.

Destroying the remaining two wraiths had been fairly simple enough, since they were already crippled. All it had taken was a few shots each for them to explode and kill any nearby Covenant.

"Wraiths are down Admiral," Manuel said into his coms before proceeding to drop the Brute shot in favour of his rifle. Now, all they had to do clean up the area.

"That's the kind of shit I like to hear, Spartan." Blaine's voice boomed approvingly through the mic. "Sergeant, when you've prepped, a SOEIV pod will be waiting for you. Head's up ground forces."

There was a loud, metallic roaring in the air as a Golden Eagle, cleared of the potential AA threat, swooped overhead. Darryl sat in the cockpit of the mech, firing salvos of chain gun rounds, along with archer missiles, precisely at enemies fleeing the immediate area. Spinning just enough so Lucy could take a shot at some enemies, the Spartan III in the troop bay's sniper rifle cracked, each shot majestically reaching her target without fault.

The numbers of the Covenant had dwindled from the assault, however, Darryl's munitions had been spent. Plenty of the escort Covenant were still standing, but the majority had been wiped out.

"That's all the support I can offer now, Ground Team. I'll be returning to the Aura for a quick reload. Happy Hunting! Eagle-1 Out!"

Autumn smiled as the odds slowly became ever more in the Spartans' favor. There was, however, the issue of the two Ghosts that continued to chase her around the area. Performing a quick dodge to her right, she chuckled as one of the boosting Ghosts smashed head first into a column of Forerunner metal. Turning back towards the final Ghost, blue plasma smoke began to billow from her damaged vehicle. The Grunt pilot of the other Ghost chittered, hovering it's vessel ever closer to her.

That was, however, when Blaine decided to drop in. With an earth shattering quake, the Ghost holding the Grunt crumpled beneath the weight of the SOEIV Pod and it's Spartan cargo. The door hissed open, the Admiral's red and blue armored arms reaching for the DMR on his back. Holding it up, he scanned the immediate area. Autumn abandoned the damaged Ghost, trotting quickly over towards him.

"Still some bogeys around I see?" Blaine chuckled to Autumn. "S'pose I can't let you guys have all the fun!"

Charging towards the nearest fireteam of Covenant, Blaine crouched low, as Autumn sprinted up the length of his back. Lifting his shoulders, his wife jumped at the apex of his lift, launching her high into the air. Preparing her SMG, she unleashed small bursts at the trio of Grunts, while Blaine thrust his shoulder deep into a Sangheili's shoulder.

Landing on one of the Grunt's chest, Autumn released the rest of her clip into it's friend's face. Standing, she watched as Blaine ducked under a deadly Sangheili chop kick. Catching the leg on it's way down, Blaine swept it's other leg out from under it. Knife at the ready, he stabbed it into the Sangheili's throat, pinning it to the ground for a second.

When the Elite stopped struggling, Blaine removed the knife, resheathing it. There was still much to fight, but the pair needed to get closer to the others.

Name: Autumn Harlowe
Health: Perfect
Weapons and Ammo:
Primary: SMG: 19/20 Clips
Secondary: Modified M6B MK VI: 15*partial*/15 clips *30 dual clips*
Frag/Plasma/Pulse Grenades: 2 Frags

Name: Blaine Harlowe
Health: Damn Perfect
Weapons and Ammo:
Primary: DMR: 20/20 Clips
Secondary: MA5D: 20/20 clips
Frag/Plasma/Pulse Grenades: 2 Frags/ 2 Plasmas

Jacob-071 felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: anxious, nervous.

Just a short time ago he had been fighting in the outer reaches of UNSC controlled space against resurgent insurgent forces with his team. There they had been making great progress against the Rebels. But as usual Jacob didn't get to see the fruits of his success. He had to admit, it was a fairly normal occurrence being pulled out of combat in such a manner. He was the opening act, and that was fine with him. Let others take the glory, I don't need it... And now I'm here, in a SOEIV pod, dropping like a rock onto a rock called Ragnarok. This is just perfect. It wasn't only that. Jacob hadn't been apart of another team for a long time, and making friends was not his speciality.

The pod shook violently, tearing Jacob away from such thoughts. Remember, your thoughts determine your destiny. It wasn't the time for worrying about making friends, rather it was a time to focus on the mission ahead. He peered out the minuscule window directly in front of him to get a better view of the battle taking place. He couldn't see much. So he decided to try and just wait until he hit the dirt.

In what felt like seconds, there was a tremendous crash. Though His MJOLNIR Gen II armor took most of the force, Jacob still felt like he had just been rattled about in a cage. However instincts took over, and Jacob slammed the door's eject button. The door in turn flew forward, crashing into an Elite Minor, which lost its balance and tumbled face first into the dirt. Jacob grabbed his MA5B assault rifle and put a few blasts into the elite to make sure he was down.

He then turned and surveyed the area. There was a good number of Spartan's--most of them unrecognizable--cleaning up the remaining Covenant forces. Two anti-air wraiths lay mangled to his right and left. Hiding behind the wraith to his right a group of the remaining covenant forces were making their final stand. They were using the wraith as makeshift cover, jumping out ever couple of seconds to take a shot at the Spartans assaulting them. Luckily, Jacob had landed in such a position that he could flank them with ease.

He took a few steps to his left, raised his AR and let off a few consentrated hurts at the group of grunts cowering behind an especially fearsome looking elite. Three grunts fell immediately, and the Elite faced him without any hesitation. In his hands he bore what the UNSC called a beam rifle. With a wicked grin on his face, the elite leveled his rifle and fired. Jacob dove to left but was doing on his back by a blast to the shoulder. Instantly he was he up again. He fired a burst at the elite, who in turn fired back.

The Spartan had a great advantage here: they were attacking the elite from the two sides. The elite had nowhere to run. Jacob grinned then pressed the trigger. Bullets swarmed the elite in golden streaks. His shields weakened. With a roar the elite dropped his weapon and pulled a handle from his thigh. Activating its button a hellish blade of blue plasma sparked into life.

Apparently the elite understood his fate as well, and intended on taking as many Spartans with him as he could. Jacob quickly reloaded and let loose with a blast of AR fire. The elite charged furiously. Within a few seconds his shields were drained, but he quickly closed the gap with the Spartan. He slashed at the Spartan. Jacob dodged, then dodged again. Then, as the elite was withdrawing, Jacob grabbed his wrist and yanked with impressive speed. The sword dropped. The elite snarled in surprise and raised his fist to cuff the Spartan. Jacob did all he could think of and thrust his shoulder into the chest of the elite. They fell in a tangled mess. The elite, the large and powerful, was still inexperienced, and Jacob made quick work of him after that.

After making sure the elite was dead, Jacob looked towards the wraith. The other Spartans were doing a fine job mopping up. Jacob grabbed his rifle and began finishing up. It was gonna be a good day.

There was one remaining brute minor on the scene, and John was finishing him off at the moment. He took great satisfaction in killing brutes and jackals in close quarters.

Jackals tended to crumble, or at very least lose all fight and go into shock after a single hit. Brutes, however, got sloppy the more blows you landed. They would swing wild, dedicating their whole weight to each strike. A dodge and a well placed counter, or a countdown, often sufficed. Then all it took was a well placed bullet, knife, or a choke. But, more often than not, John would simply beat them into submission by going toe to toe.

The brute swung his clawed hand, and John ducked back. Another swing came higher, and the Spartan ducked. He threw a straight punch, denting the minor's power armor, leaving a fist-shaped crater in the metal. The Spartan stepped in and threw a volley of punches, blows landing on the brute's face and upper chest. The Spartan III was used to punching up. It was no contest. The brute stumbled back and John snatched his mauler, lifting the hand cannon and firing. The blast tore the brute's face apart, and the beast dropped like a marionette whose strings were snipped.

John heard the Eagle overhead, and caught sight of it as it left. There were several bullet-holes in bodies. That was Lucy for you; she even managed to hit enemies behind cover with her armor piercing rounds.

Two new friendly tags were present, signalled by the dropping of pods. One crushed a ghost, and deposited the Admiral. The second produced a jet-black armored Spartan II. And here I thought model IIs were in short supply.

A jackal moved into John's peripheral vision, and John's motion tracker displayed the red dot. He turned, lifted the mauler and fired. Red hot pellets seared the jackal's skin, the impact of the shot sending him skidding across the dirt. The jackal had been attempting to flee; John had no qualms with cutting the hostile's chord. The jackal, along with his lance, had been shooting at him just seconds before.

"Admiral! Welcome to the field. We were just cleaning things up here." John shouted to the Blue and Red Spartan II, and then turned towards the black armored soldier. His hud pinged him as Spartan-071. "Sierra O Seven One. Didn't know you were coming to the party. That makes three model twos. I like those odds."

The soldier seemed to have decent chops. He'd made short work of the elite nearby. However, any Spartan II could hang tough against an unskilled elite. How good this guy was remained to be seen.

In the meantime, Vance placed his foot down on a Jackal's head, firing into the alien's back and tearing the jackal's torso to pieces. Looking around, Vance barked "CLEAR! That's the last of 'em."

Name: John B069
Health: Feeling peachy.
Weapons and Ammo
DMG SMG: 19/20 Clips
M6C: 15/15 Clips
T52 Mauler: 5/5 Clips
Grenades: 2 Frags, 2 Thermite

Ordinance Utilized: Two shots from a Mauler.
Enemies Terminated: 1 Jiralhanae Minor, 1 Jackal Minor.
Total Kills: 10

"Spartans, form up!" Blaine barked to any straggling members of the fireteam. "That was some Grade A ass kicking right there, more than anything, I'm glad to have all your skill sets available."

"As I speak, Spartan IV teams have begun attacking Covenant troops in the area to keep them occupied while we move in on the target. Scans from the Aura show that the area through this door is teeming with Covenant. We won't be able to use our Golden Eagle reinforcements until after we've cleared out that sector." Blaine continued. " Beyond that is the mine itself, unusual as it is, it is an above ground mine, filled with numerous trenches and crevices. Footing will be a little dicey, but you've all proven you've got the coordination."

"For right now, our current objective is to get this door open. It was my understanding that John had thermite on his person?" Blaine asked, as John nodded. "One brick of that should do the trick. Alternatively, there is a power junction a short jog west of this position. If we split up, have a small team tackle that and power it up, the rest of us could begin the assault on the next room."

"I'm open to suggestions Spartans, but let's not burn daylight."

John shrugged his shoulders, and stepped forward, snatching the thermite grenade latched onto his belt. The flame would likely compromise the locking mechanism; he'd broken into secure locations that way before. Without a word, he lobbed the grenade, and as it bounced off the door, primed, he fired his pistol into it.

A gout of flame spilled over the door, and the metal superheated. It took a moment for the flames to die down, as he latched his pistol onto his hip, walking towards the door. As the last of the flames went out, John brought back his arm, looking at the center of it, where the two door controls met. With a harsh blow, he put his arm through it, grasping one side.

With a moment of effort, he slowly pried the door's too halves apart, like cracking open a stubborn oyster. The Spartan III ripped one half out of the way entirely, shoving the other into the doorway, leaving the door wide open. John quickly drew his submachine gun, stepping back and observing the doorway. "Nobody's home. They must have heard us and beat feet inside. Not that I blame 'em."

"Indeed," Manuel said, agreeing with John. While some might have assumed Manuel was trying to socialize, he took John's comment as a legitimate assessment. The enemy had most likely gone inside to regroup. If the enemy was inside, then that meant they were most likely waiting for them and perhaps setting up a trap.

Manuel took a long look inside the hallway, flipping through various parts of the electromagnetic spectrum on his visor before turning the feature off. Regardless of whatever wavelength he chose, anyone could tell this was Forerunner. It had that distinctive metallic shine to it, with glowing blue lines throughout the walls. Manuel stared at the glowing blue lines for a few seconds before shaking his head. He was here to assassinate a target, not admire ruins. Focused once again, Manuel took one last look at his radar before speaking.

"The immediate area ahead seems safe. I didn't spot anything odd on any wavelength. However we should take note of John's comment. If the enemy has fallen back, it's likely they've regrouped and are waiting for us," Manuel said, readying his rifle before taking a step inside.

"Positions Admiral?" Manuel asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the hallway in front of them.

Name: Manuel-324
Health: Perfect
Weapons and Ammo:
Primary: Hybrid Rifle: 20/20 Clips
Secondary: Pistol 20/20 clips
Energy Trident: Full charge
Frag/Plasma/Forerunner Grenades: 2 Frags, 2 Thermite

"Anything's possible." Autumn shrugged. "Blaine?"

"The Aura wasn't wrong, there is definitely some buggers in here somewhere. If you're right about them fleeing further in, than a trap is almost guaranteed. We need to stay a step ahead of them." Blaine nodded, pointing to John. "John, you're our front runner. Vance and I will be right behind you. Autumn, you, Manuel, and Jacob will have our flanks."

"Understood." Autumn nodded.

The Spartan III gave Blaine an obliging nod before stepping inside. The floor was dusty; John had never known the Covies to be particularly fastidious in their janitorial duties. Moving with quiet steps, John tracked footprints in the fine dust on the floor.

"We've got elites inside. This guy must have been in a hurry to get the door locked." He lead the way down the hall, his modified SMG in front as he moved. He could hear the footfalls of a hasty Sangheili's boots.

"Human demons have broken the line!" A voice bellowed from down the hall. "Prepare for battle!"

As John turned a corner, several rifles immediately trained on him, and let loose a storm of plasma and blamite. The Spartan jerked back into the hall as the far wall was superheated by the hail of munitions. "SHIT. We've got five covenant lances. Standard formation, little bastards in front, big bastards in the rear." The Spartan placed his SMG in his right hand. "I'll get my Hardlight Shield ready, and you guys fire over my shoulder while I give you some cover."

With that, John braced himself, and turned into the doorway. He planted his right knee and activated his shield; a solid wall of blue appeared, about neck high and four feet wide. Just enough room to shoot over and around. John felt the weight of plasma and needle-rounds drumming against his shield, but held strong, keeping his shield up. "Open up on 'em!"

The Spartans rushed forward, some using John's hardlight as cover, while others used the corner as cover. Jacob was ducked behind the corner. Plasma slashed against John's shield; it couldn't hold up for that long. But, Jacob knew, john had never meant it to. Jacob held his MA5B with one hand, and tore a grenade from his belt.

"Grenade out!" he shouted over the whine of plasma fire.

He pressed the button atop the grenade, and flung it over the elites. It smacked an Elite in the chest. The Elites roared and scattered. But it was too late. Three of the grunts were torn into shreds, shields were heavily dampened. Jacob leveled his rifle at an Elite, squeezing off three rounds. The shields buckled and another bullet downed the dizzied Elite. However, in the meantime, the remaining elites and Grunts had reformed their ranks and were firing back.

The Spartans returned fire. Jacob's comm crackled. "That's one down," Manuel confirmed.

Jacob ducked back around the corner, reloading his gun.

Don't wanna take all the glory, so go ahead fellas.

"Frag out!" Manuel shouted, coming out from behind the corner and readying another grenade. The shields of the Elites were already weakened, and he'd rather finish the fight now since John's hard light shield wouldn't last forever.

The grenade sailed through the air, bouncing off the ground and arcing towards the Elites, who were preoccupied with avoiding Manuel's gunfire. The grenade exploded, killing most of the Elites and dazing those were still alive. Manuel unloaded his rifle on them as his allies joined him. Until the hail of gunfire the remaining Elites crumpled and the Grunts began to panic. Some fought, others tried to run, and some tried to commit suicide.

The Grunts soon fell under a hail of precise gunfire, their skulls cracking one after the other. Manuel had focused his fire one those that were running, ensuring that none left to tell others of the Spartans' location.

As the echos of gunfire faded away, Manuel scanned the hallway using his spectrum changing visor. All he saw was the radiation coming from the plasma grenades, but nothing unusual.

"My scans do not detect any abnormalities ahead. We should be safe, but I'll keep my thermal scan on. Active camouflage is known to generate an excessive amount of heat," Manuel added, aware that other Elites, and Brutes, may be roaming around.

John's hardlight shield retracted, as he lowered his arm. When Manuel gave the all clear, he lowered his submachine gun, gripping his magnum instead. "Nice, nice." He walked in the room, dusting off his shoulder. His hardlight shield's energy reserves slowly crawled back up to full capacity as he hunted around, rather curious. This was a short moment of reprieve from the battle, so it wouldn't hurt to get to know his enemy.

Their armor was impressively new; likely the result of a heist on an armory. It was possible that they had some sort of trade agreement; unlikely, though, because most proper sangheili weaponsmiths and artisans had thrown in with the Arbiter and his Swords of Sangheilios.

He leaned forward, grasping a grunt's rebreather and searching for some recognizable marking. He had some knowledge of armor and factory work amongst the Covenant, stemming from his work as a Headhunter. "Sorry man," he murmured as he pulled the rebreather from the grunt's mouth, checking it for some sort of mint or marking. HE then combed the grunt's armor with a discerning eye. Nothing out of the ordinary that he could recognize. It had been made in a hurry.

However, something else caught his eye. An M6 on the hip of one of the sangheili. John stood, looking around the room at his Fireteam members. Nobody had come far enough into the room to have dropped it, and the sangheili certainly hadn't managed to steal it. The Spartan III walked to the elite, taking the pistol from his hip. "Where'd you get this?" John asked loud enough for others to hear him.

"It's old. An M6G put together before the end of the war. Probably a trophy. I'm glad we killed this guy." John cast a shady, pissed off glare at the sangheili, before realizing that the elite was relatively young. Slim and short, there was no way this elite had served in the Reach campaign, and there was no way a self respecting veteran with a grudge against humanity would carry a human weapon, trophy or not.

John puzzled, holding the pistol up and looking at the side. The mint surprised him. "Anybody here serve on Reach before the planet was glassed? This pistol's minted from the Viery munitions factory, and I don't think this guy got it from Reach." The Spartan III took a moment to internally gloat about his attention to detail; it had kept him alive this long, after all.

"Yeah." Blaine nodded, as Autumn looked at her husband with concern. "What didja find, Lieutenant?"

Stepping over a few mangled corpses formed by Manuel's grenade, Blaine took a place beside John. In the Spartan III's hand had been a modified M6G Handgun. Handing it to Blaine, the Spartan II gave it a quick once over, turning it over in his hand.

"Viery Munitions, like you said." Blaine sighed. "Definitely assembled before the end of the war."

Expertly, Blaine disassembled the weapon in his hands, taking off the pull back to inspect the inner workings. The weapon had seen better days, it was still capable of firing, however it had not been kept in prestine condition. It may not have been in the Sangheili's possession for long, but the UNSC personnel that had been responsible for it certainly didn't take good care of it.

"See that oil and gunk? This gun was likely used to kill a Sangheili up close and personal, that's the only way you're going to get this much shit in the gun's inner workings." Blaine said. "If I had to guess, whoever owned this gun, likely ODST, maybe a Spartan II, was defeated or captured by our friend here."

"Well, why does it have to be a Spartan II?" Autumn asked, stepping beside him.

"I have access to all troop deployments, you know that." Blaine said, turning towards her. "No ODST or Spartan Squadrons have set foot on this planet. The fact that this Pistol hasn't been fired in years leads me to believe this belongs to only one man."

"This pistol didn't come from one of Nitram's recent raids, it came from their prisoner." Blaine shook his head, quickly reassembling the weapon. "My guess is this is Jorge's pistol. He rarely used it, and hardly kept it clean. This Sangheili likely kept it as a trophy for his capturing of a 'Demon'."

"So, does that mean Spartan-052 is close by?"

"Not necessarily, though it does mean that he's on Planet, if this is in fact his pistol." Blaine said, passing the pistol back to John. "Good find, John. You can give it to the big man when we find him."

DM's Notes: I'm not sure if this is what John had in mind, if it's not, there are ways to work around the deduction Blaine has made.

Response wrote:Nah, it was pretty much on point with what I intended.

John grasped the handgun. It was a bit exhilarating, holding a handgun from the legendary defense of Reach. It was, indeed, a modern Alamo. John had been out on assignment when it happened, but hearing stories of the bravery of the servicemen there gave him a sense of genuine pride.

"I'll hang onto it for 'em. Maybe clean it up a little, if I get the chance. But for now, I might have a few uses for it myself."

Part of him wished he'd been there, but if he had been, he might not have made it through. A lot of Spartans lost their lives. John reloaded Jorge's pistol, gripping it. The Spartan III smirked slightly, holding the pistol up and letting his helmet sync with the old technology now in his possession. Even the old G model magnum wasn't beyond the scope of his visor; the crosshairs were displayed as per usual.

"We might want to move up quick. We don't have a clear view of the structure's makeup, but from the outside, I'm guessing eventually, one of these rooms will lead into a more open area. We might have to split up once we get inside." He quickly slid his new magnum against his hip, hooking the drawback on his magnetic gun-clip and cocking it, putting a round in the chamber and preparing to move into the next room.

Unknown Space
Unggoy Capital Ship "Righteous Faith"

Life was bustling about aboard the 1.4 km long vessel. It was an usual breed of Covenant-type starship. It referenced the model of the SDV-class heavy corvette heavily, but it several defining features. There was an energy projector turret emplacement that ran about the body of the vessel, represented by glowing cyan lines. It had at least twelve light plasma and four plasma turrets that covered each side of the ship.

The inhabitants of the ship were even more unusual. It was that they were all Unggoy. These were not your average grunt, as well. These grunts held morale equivalent to that of those in the legendary Grunt Rebellion that nearly crippled the old Covenant.

Aboard that ship was a brave 'family' of Unggoy; Kayap, Popad, Dawjaw, Kadab, and Kadap. They incited the independents of the grunts, and proved themselves worthy among some of the Sangheili. One Sangheili had even humbled himself to help the grunts prosper. N'Jero was his name, and he himself had been rescued by the grunts during the Great Schism. Of course, he tended to himself, as any elite would do. Medical personnel were the lowest of their kind, and being operated by one was a worse kind of sin among his kin.

Kayap, the leader of the new Unggoy empire, had always found that sort of thing to be completely strange and unreasonable. He even asked, exasperated by N'Jero, 'What you mean dishonorable? You get healed quicker and you get to go back out a fight again!" N'Jero denied the logic, telling the grunt that he just simply did not understand Sangheili culture. Kadap considered that cultural idea, 'A big pile of dunflap.'

Now, the infamous creatures were now patrolling this sector of space. The rest of their fleet was in another star system awaiting for confirmation that this sector was safe. Of course, Kayap, or rather more Dawjaw's idea of safe was, 'If there enemy ship that we can explode easy, then star system safe.' Kadab couldn't agree more.

"High Deacon! Detecting signal!" a voice squeaked inside the atrium of a bridge. Kayap lifted his resting head and hopped off his anti-gravity chair. N'Jero was not far, and followed the Unggoy to the black-armored communications officer.

"Explain." Kayap simply said, staring at the various glyphs that appeared upon the holographic screen.

"Signal coming off planet. Various types. One forerunner, one human. His designation S-052, Jorge." The grunt said.

"Jorge? Jorge..." Kayap looked out at the stars, with N'Jero watching him think curiously, "Oh... The human who destroyed the... Supercarrier? I think... I think that him."

"...And the forerunner signal seems to be intermingled with a Covenant signal, too. I think it one of Jul's stupids." The grunt spat.

"Well well. It appears that we may have operations at hand, Kayap. What is your plan?" N'Jero crossed his arms, staring at the glyphs.

"We see what's happening." Kayap walked back to his chair and sat upon it, "Navigations, take us to signal. Keep us at distance far as possible, but close enough for a scan."

"Then let's," Manuel agreed with John, as the Spartan III led them into the next room. The Spartans followed him, keeping their designated formation. So far, nothing... and nothing was usually not good. Either there was a massive force elsewhere, or the enemy had left. The group continued down various halls and rooms of varying sizes until finally the ascended some curved ramps. At the top, the found a door that led them to the outside.

They were on a large platform, and upon further inspection Manuel noted three pillars with a glowing middle portion.

"I believe those are the cables that hold this gas mine in place. Why such a place is unguarded is a mystery to me," Manuel said, looking around. What he was looking for where the faint silhouettes of Elites with active camouflage. Perhaps this was an ambush,  and if it was there they would mostly likely surround the Spartans.

As John stepped into the room, a hostile tag immediately pinged on his HUD. Some handing on the vaults of the ceiling, and some gripping pilllars, the Brutes released a powerful war cry. "PROTECT THE CABLES! The station must not fall!" One roared loudly as brute shot rounds suddenly began flying.

John, thinking quickly, activated his Hard Light shield, protecting himself and anyone behind him from immediate arm. However, he suddenly felt a sharp heat on the small of his back, as the weight of the shots shorted out the device, causing it to malfunction. "Shit," the Spartan cursed, moving into the open and tearing the conduit off his back. He'd been in the field a lot lately; it had probably taken damage on a previous op, and gone unrepaired due to his own negligence. Now, he was paying the price, stripped of the useful device.

However, the fleet-footed Spartan had decent skill at simply dodging the brute shots. He sprinted, avoiding an echoing blast at his heels. He leapt and rolled, drawing his submachine gun and opening fire on one of the brutes. As they were clinging to the ceiling like bats, they were largely unable to take cover or maneuver. His shots hit center mass, the shimmering power armor of the brute minor taking too much damage and eventually popping. Peppered and bloodied by caseless ammunition, the brute fell, landing with a wet, bloody impact.

There were still several in the room; at least ten, and all equipped with power armor, from the looks of it. One of them clenched his fists, and with a mighty roar, he leapt from the vaulted ceiling down towards John. The Spartan leapt backwards as the brute landed, his golden armored fist putting a dent in the metallic floor. As John rallied, planting his feet, the brute lurched forward, telegraphing a haymaker. John moved out of the way like a blur. The brute turned and threw another punch, and John lifted his arm to gague the distance and guide the blow out of his way. The Spartan and the brute engaged in hand-to-hand, the Spartan simply dodging or redirecting each blow.

The Spartan moved out of the way of a particularly strong punch, and as the brute overcommited and passed him, John stepped into his blind spot, throwing a shot of his own; a simple, powerful chop to the brute's back, damaging and compromising his power armor. As the brute's shielding failed, he turned to see John hop and throw a knee into his snout, bloodying his face and nearly knocking the brute unconscious. John took a sideways step to gain a bit of momentum, jumped, and swung a powerful heel kick, plowing through rows of teeth and shattering bone. The brute fell to the floor with a thump as John skillfully landed and rolled towards a small ledge. Vaulting off, he landed on a lower level of the room's multiple platforms, taking cover from vengeful brutes who were nonplussed with seeing their ally slain by a demon.

Name: John B069
Health: Sorta pissed that Manuel was right about the ambush thing, and his Hardlight Shield just broke. Other than that, not bad.
Weapons and Ammo
DMG SMG: 18/20 Clips
M6C: 15/15 Clips
Jorge's Pistol: 15/15 Clips
Grenades: 2 Frags.

Ordinance Utilized: One clip of DMG SMG ammo. Hardlight Shield Compromised.
Enemies Terminated: 1 Jiralhanae Major, 1 Jiralhanae Minor.
Total Kills: 12

The Righteous Faith
Two hundred thousand kilometers from the planet surface

"Lord Deacon, airspace dangerous, any suborbital attempts be subverted by big surface guns. Too dangerous for ship. Me suggest either bombardment or small scale invasion."

"Sire, forces comprised of remnant and promethean constructs. But also detect some human signature."

"Humans are already setting an incursion upon the forces below? Most burdensome. High Deacon, I would suggest we leave the system. We have no need to mingle with human affairs." N'jero spoke.

"No. N'jero, stay on the ship, me and me brothers will go down. This is something that concern me." Kayap grunt, jumping down from his gravity chair.

"Kayap," N'jero rested a hand upon the shoulder the grunt's shoulder, "Be wise, don't get trapped, captured, or the like. If it happens, we will attack that base and relinquish you from them."

Kayap knew what that would cost, in hindsight. He would have to be careful, as well as his brothers.

=====

"What you meeeaannn? Why me no carry big big gun into fight?" Kadab cried out.

"Because you alert the whole dang base you doorflap!" Kadap retorted as he readied his equipment and weaponry. "Oh me big Kadab, me blow up bad guys, me alert all the bad guys, and me send us all into a hell hole because I have fetish for exploding things!"

"Shut up! How about you?! With your probes and stuff? What you gonna do? Probe their butts to death?"

"Silence you bickering idiots!" Dawjaw growled, "Kadap, take plasma caster. Fuel Rod Guns are too loud, especially for what we're doing."

"Fine." Kadab said as he pulled the weapon from the rack.

"Did you seriously give him plasma caster..." Kadap muttered.

Popad walked into the scene brandishing his Unggoy Carbine. It functioned identically to the average carbine, only that its stock was slightly shorter to accommodate to the unggoy's size. "Operations Phantom ready."

"Woo! Let's kill bad guys! Save the humans' hairy butts!" Kadab squealed. Unbeknownst to the rest of the squad, the grunt stuck a concussion rifle with him in the midst of the pre-battle cry. As well as a few extra grenades.

Kayap was already aboard, speaking with the pilots and deciding their landing point. It would be a few kilometers off into a wooded area. Provided, it was most likely where the humans may have landed or adjacent to it.

The four grunts waddled on the phantom dropship and Dawjaw grunted, catching Kayap attention. Dawjaw nodded, and Kayap tapped the shoulders of the pilots, "Mission ready. Let's go."

=====

The phantom raced through the atmosphere, cloaked. The pilots were well aware of patrols that were most likely passing through the skies, as well as the anti-air emplacement. They were treading as quickly and as carefully as possible. Of course, being pilots for the band of brothers, these pilots were truly skilled in their work. The phantom slowed and paused over an opening in the canopy and opened its gravity lift. The grunts passed through and touched down.

The first words that came were from Kadab, "Aww maaaaan, we gotta hike all the way there..."

---

Squad report (minus Kadab):

Name: Kadab
Health: Normal... and crazy
Weapons and Ammo
Plasma Caster: 5/5 Magazines
Concussion Rifle: 5/5 Magazines
Grenades: 4x plasma grenades

-----

Name: Kayap
Health: Normal
Weapons and Ammo
Unggoy Carbine: 4/4 Magazines
Type-25 Plasma Rifle: 5/5 Charges
Grenades: 2x plasma grenades

-----

Name: Popad
Health: Normal
Weapons and Ammo
Unggoy Carbine: 4/4 Magazines
Plasma Knife: *infinite?*
Grenades: 3x plasma grenades

-----

Name: Dawjaw
Health: Ready for battle
Weapons and Ammo
"Storm" Plasma Rifle: 5/5 Charges
Plasma Sword: *infinite or 100%?*
Grenades: 2x plasma grenades

-----

Name: Kadap
Health: Feeling Techy
Weapons and Ammo
Duel Needlers: 6/6 Magazines (12 total)
Plasma Knife: *infinite*
Grenades: 2x plasma grenades