Futuristic Halo: Operation SHATTERED SKY (IC - CLOSED)

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - E-Building

"Barnes! Get the camera!"

Nodding, Barnes got up from his cover, muttered something to himself and rushed over to one of the windows. He trained his camera on the Wraith and gritted his teeth before speaking;
"I don't like this Larson! We're too damn close!"

Before Jackie could respond the staccato of gunfire started to echo throughout the entire building as the ODSTs, marines and Verent Militia fighters returned fire.

Outside the building was a T-crossing with the main road facing directly towards the E-building. It was littered with burning car wrecks and debris of varying size. Closer to the building were four UNSC barricades and sandbag walls lined with barbed wire, all of which had been put in place by the platoon of marines that had originally defended the building. All around Jackie and Barnes the defenders were scrambling to return fire.

A pair of ODSTs manning a belt-fed M247 GPMG et out a deafening RATATATATATATA as they opened fire on the Wraith's accompanying ground troops. Grunts, Elites and Jackals were all present down on the street. The Wraith was hurling large plasma projectiles at an alarming rate which allowed the alien invaders to slowly advance on the building. Should they manage to get inside the ODSTs would lose their only advantages and they would have no choice but to fall back.

Zagama, Halvarsson and the others didn't waste any time though and in-between plasma barrages the troopers opened fire at the advancing infantry. Outside several troopers were spilling out onto the street to man the barricades as best they could.

Downstairs Black, Grey and the rest of the SRG team alongside their attached 7th STB ODSTs reached the front entrance and entered the spacious structure which had been decorated with green UNSC crates, ammunition boxes, medical crates and other military equipment. Black nodded towards an ODST standing watch near the entrance. "Where's your CO?"

The ODST nodded towards a door down the hall. "Lt. Jones is in there sir, manning the defenses." He looked over the recent arrivals before looking back at Black. "I don't suppose you're our reinforcements, sir?"

Black shook his head. "Unfortunately not, son. But they're not too far behind. Cavalry's coming." The building shook and the trooper nodded.

With that said Black motioned for the others to follow him down the hall. As the sound of weapons fire grew in intensity Black crouched down slightly before entering the room;

Inside was a former lecturing hall where all of the chairs and tables had been clumped together into spare cover. The wall had been struck by heavy weapons as testified by the numerous holes that lined it, with all of them having been reinforced with sandbags and whatever other materials the troopers had managed to scrounge up. An even larger hole dominated the far end of the room and even a quick glance at it told Black that it was big enough fit to a Hunter.

Several ODSTs were inside the room fighting from their defensive positions. One of of them was donning the red markings of a squad leader on their shoulder pads, currently crouching next to a marine radioman while yelling into the radio;

"-airstrike outside the campus, danger close, now!"

The radio let out a garbled reply and the trooper cursed. "Listen! I'm knee-deep in alien bastards and if I don't get an airstrike they will puncture our perimeter."

Again the radio let out some garbled response and Lt. Jones shook her head before looking up at Black and the squad behind him. "Don't just stand around! Pick a hole and start shooting!"

Black nodded and took a knee next to Jones while the others spread out. Grey took cover near one of the firing ports while Sgt. Davis and Tremell posted themselves near the gigantic wall-breach. Outside plasma fire was peppering the building without pause. There were at least up to thirty Grunts unevenly spread out backed up by shielded Jackals- numbering to about ten- followed by a small command team of Elites, also numbering to about ten.

The bigger threat here however were not the infantry but the Wraith behind them. Upon closer inspection it bore two rather large crimson stripes on its hull with one on each wing. Someone had also taken the time to paint religious symbols on the hull with the color looking a bit too much like blood. Whoever was piloting the Wraith was without a doubt someone of importance as the Elites seemed to hold a formation around it rather than lead the other ground troops.

Black cursed and pointed downrange: "Light 'em up, people! Weapons free!"

DrabberRogue NamelessTrax 0stinato SpazTheButcher Solar Daddy GhastlySquash Worthlessplebian

*
​

Optican - Product Development Branch

“Slick, Domino we may be rolling soon. How does it look from up there?”

"As clear as a summer's day, boss." Replied Slick. Just as he spoke however there was a slight rumbling ahead that echoed from out of a nearby street. "Hold on, we got movement."

Ace, Gizmo, Torch and Limbo all stopped and took up cover near the vehicles. They shouldered their respective weapons and aimed at the street where the source of the sound had come from. Slowly, the rumbling transformed into the sound of a Covenant anti-gravity drive. No- several of them.

A Ghost appeared. And another one. And another one after that. Soon enough there were no less than ten of the vehicles lazily hovering over the ground on the opposite side of the street. They had parked outside the building occupied by the Covenant with one of the Elites having dismounted his vehicle to go inside.

Before stepping inside he stopped, turned around and stared at the three vehicles outside the Optican building.

"I got him. Just say the word." Muttered Domino over the radio. Gizmo stared at Cesar with wide eyes as he did his best to merge with the vehicle he was standing behind. Ace shook his head and mouthed the word 'Fuck' quietly.

Calibutcher

 

[GhastlySquash]

"Just hold tight Barnes! Be smart!" Jackie took a cover position, firing with the ODSTs during the intermittent pauses of plasma. This was a large push, and the Wraith was going to mow them all down unless someone had a better idea. If this was a straight fire fight, they'd have advantage. But with the wraith, the wind was blowing against their forces. To make matters worse, the wraith had managed to get the jump on them inside the campus. An air strike might have put an end to that, but with too many friendlies around, the UNSC would only be doing the Covies a favor.

And every second spent waiting meant another second of enemy advantage. As Jackie took a peek through a freshly made hole, she noticed the Wraith was decorated. Her experience in psy-ops knew that there was no such thing as an accidental paint job. The religious symbols and blood signified someone of great importance. Perhaps luck was on their side. The enemy might have assumed such tactics would raise fear in the hearts of their soldiers, but she knew ODSTs rarely succumbed to that.

"Barnes focus the camera on that wraith! It's got weird shit written all over it!"

With that, she took a position close to Zangama to report her new discovery. "Ma'am! Wraith has some strange symbols on it, could be a potential HVT, right? What are the odds we can distract them and get a grenade down range?"

 

[Calibutcher]

Hearing the all-clear from his boys he took the liberty of standing up and wiping the sweat from his brow. He began to make the sign of the cross on his chest and say thanks to his Saint when the rest of the news dropped. He leapt from the truck and tucked behind it he again made the sign of the cross only this time asking for help now rather than giving thanks. He grunted in frustration. Why couldn’t his luck hold for this? He supposed luck didn’t apply to Alien invasions. He would have to make it work on his own then.

He grasped his rifle and took a breath the time for prayers was over. He could hear the ghosts coming in. He recognized the sound from footage he had watched of the war efforts so far. A strange warble as their signature purple craft floated above the ground. Domino called ready to hit an Elite. Cesar let a thin grin hit his lips. He didn’t have to make this work alone. That was why he had a team after all. A glance to his left and right showed men ready to fight. The time to run was coming to a close.

He tapped his comm, “Hold fire Domino, See if he will move on. If he gets aggressive make the shot.” He was whispering on the comm, still suspicious that somehow the aliens could hear them even over the sounds of the ghosts or the distant battles that peppered the city. “Make ready to leave, if they move on we are getting out of here and delivering the goods. If it’s time to fight let's get loud and get out.” He glanced to his left and right and he got nods of affirmation from his team every one hunkered behind cover but was also ready to return fire at a moment's notice.

 

[NamelessTrax]

Dax kept close to Black, maintaining a within reach but far enough to not bump shoulders. Reaching the building, he kept an eye out for injured. Entering the lecture hall, Dax fell in close as Black knelt with Lt. Jones, keeping an eye out for injured. His supplies were packed, but he’d exhaust their personal medical kits first, hopefully they hadn’t needed to yet. The vibrations of the plasma hitting the building shook his body, the repeated fire from all sorts of weapon types around him like an off-beat tune. First contact with his new unit, time to see how they operate as one.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Owen heard the call of battle, and he seldom refused to answer. Bassett gripped his rifle tight and surged ahead, getting himself to whatever vantage would let him throw a wall of lead at the mass of grunts outside the building. He hit the frayed and broken wall with an umph, with his weapon sitting on the ledge just barely peeking over. The unsettled dust in the room and the floating debris masked Owen in a thin layer of grime and dirt, solidifying his rugged look further. He waited only a moment after the call to open fire to align his rifle before pulling on the trigger, letting a volley of fire off in short, controlled bursts of his AR. To his left was Tremell and further past him was Davis, which only ensured Owen felt powerful and unstoppable in a moment like this. That wraith was a huge problem though; one aligned shot and they'd all be a fine paste splattered on the walls. He listened to the comms grunt trying to radio for an airstrike, but the conversation didn't seem to be going in their favor. "We got a demoman?!" Owen called in between his volleys of fire. He sure hoped someone on his team had a SPNKR. "We can't let that thing tear us up over here!" Owen hoped he could get a lucky angle on one of the Elites, but he knew his rifle wasn't strong enough to break their shields without sustained fire. He focused on whittling down the grunts for now, occasionally breaking to suppress an overzealous Elite or a clever Jackal.

One. Two. Owen surgically dropped his empty mag and replaced it with efficiency and speed before readying his rifle and firing again. He lined up his sights on another poor grunt about to eat lead. With two short bursts, the imaginary tally in his mind produced another tick. Three. Owen hoped to return home one day with a plaque commemorating just how much Covenant he personally put an end to. Alien bastards deserved every last bullet he threw their way.

 

[0stinato]

Talk about brawn over brains, this place was the artistic epitome of it. If Lyster had any creative gristle in his body, he’d never had, and never would have, the time or space to explore it, but he recognised the germination of a good creative idea when it occurred to him. A thick oil painting so oppressive it would block your airways of this exact scene, of soldiers pouring into a room once so saturated with learning and knowledge. The broken walls, the barricades, the plasma burn still hissing from the Wraith outside, blues curling into consuming orange flame. And such a scene would be lost as soon as the battle was over. If he was KIA, that vision would die with him; if he survived, he’d let it go in THC and nicotine. Fleeting little perfect image, given to him instead of to a budding artist.

With Lt. Jones’ orders on the table, Lyster wouldn’t hesitate. Around him was the clear indication of fire-at-will, precision not strictly necessary. ‘Weapons free!’ as Black shouted. But in his grip was the DMR, the weapon that promised results if offered accuracy. Perhaps he should consider his weapon free, but reigned. The most tactical position for him would be somewhere he could pick off the elites whose shields had been eaten by ARs and that machine gun. With only a moment’s hesitation to choose the best spot, Lyster moved up to a gap, then twisted his body in a swift motion to slam his back against cover, taking up one of the holes in the wall.

Behind his visor, Lyster’s visage was that of an eager grotesque hopped up on adrenaline and testosterone. Oh, and hate. Manufactured hate, if not deep hate. How much did it matter to him really that the Covenant had glassed Bliss? He’d leave that question for the psych medics to puzzle out after they were done grilling him at his next evaluation. ‘Angry enough to hold a gun, sane enough to know which end to point at myself, sir.’

With an intake of breath, Lyster trusted the VISR and his own ability to guide his conduct through the battle. He’d identify a target with little to no shields, punch through them and join his squadmates, stripping the enemy one tango at a time. Past that, his survival would be down to his reflexes, his armour, and the cluster of once-academic furniture stacked into some sort of cover.

And if he heard the wraith fire, he’d take distance and drop. One couldn’t ask more from an ODST at that point really. But for now he was in control, breathing and shooting.

‘If anyone’s got a good place for a grenade, I’ve got an excellent overarm!’ he called.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

There is this chaotic symphony to the battlefield. Joseph "Joey" King, ONI Agent of Section One, never held much in the way of artistic affinity, but tales of warriors past inform us that they lose themselves to this projectile-prone pandemonium. The perfect photo of madness. The archaic Greeks called it lyssa in the hearts of their gods, demi-gods, heroes, generals, and soldiers. A rageful state of own-righteousness that toils away in the heart of the warrior imbibing the warrior of the strength, courage, and reckless abandon to fulfill the quest that their hearts most desire. As the slow turn of King's head came, he saw this lyssa this rabidness take hold in tickers of his battle buddies. The marines had a thin foam of spit and water, others bloody drool and bloodier teeth. Yet as King ducked under the plasma bolt of a grunt or Elite, a question held unprecedented preponderance in his heart.

"Why do I not feel this?

He mused, sprinting towards the nearest cover that is not too close to the front but not too back; a perfect centre in the lane of war. In terms of position: he was off to the right, their left. He shoulder-slammed into a piece of debris and waited for the most opportune moment to strike.

However, his psyche circled back towards the question. It is not a question of emotionless affliction, as King attests to feel those troubling things just fine. But for this instance, there was no rage in heart. Propaganda-fabrication or heartily-genuine. A bit of fear, but that is normal for him. No one is exempt from that one during or after War. So why is he struggling to lose himself? The others are doing so just fine, evidenced by the animated bursts of rifle fire that they so eloquently produce. Is he too cold for this? Jaded, desensitized? Or is he caring too much?

Another second of pondering before his body autonomously punched him to squeeze the trigger at an enemy combatant.

A concentrated cloud of molten air with the hue of cyan-blue woke him up as it very nearly gave him a new haircut. Thank the Gods that it wasn't the obliterating belch of the Wraith ahead of them. They'd really need to find away to deal with it. King idly, loudly wonders. "If only we could bury the damn thing!"

Before returning fire.

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - E-Building

"Just hold tight Barnes! Be smart!"

"Yeah? No shit!" Replied Barnes, crouching next to the machine gun crew with one hand actively shielding the camera lens from the hail of shell casings sputtering out towards him. When Jackie started yelling about the Wraith the immediate response from her cameraman were a series of curses as moved from one firing port to another in order to get a better image of it.

Rolled: 8

"Damn!" Yelled Barnes, squinting his other eye while expertly adjusting the zoom on the camera lens. "Looks like Covie letters on there!" He paused and paled slightly. "That looks like blood!"

"Ma'am! Wraith has some strange symbols on it, could be a potential HVT, right? What are the odds we can distract them and get a grenade down range?"

Zagama barely looked at Jackie between bursts of weapons fire. Her opaque visor mirrored the bright muzzle flash of her own weapon as well as that of Halvarsson who wasn't to far away. The trooper did, however, nod briefly before tapping her battle-buddy on his shoulder pad. "Go grab a Jackhammer! Now!"

Nodding, Halvarsson broke off and left the room, rushing into the hallway outside in search for heavy ordnance.

Downstairs anyone not wearing ear protection would probably end up deaf due to the intense and overwhelming amount of weapons fire echoing throughout the room currently. Outside the Covenant forces fired a seemingly endless stream of plasma at the building, with one of the Jackals ordering his kin to lay down suppressive fire on the lecturing room itself.

Rolled: 7

With several plasma pistols firing at the same time someone was bound to get hit sooner or later. Inside the room a marine yelled as dust and plasma started to kick up around his firing port, splattering directly into his face. The trooper wasn't wearing any eye protection and as such he stiffened up, dropped his MA5B and fell backwards onto the debris-covered floor like he had almost frozen solid.

"I... I can't see!"

One of the other marines looked down at the man and then up; "MEDIC!"

"I can't fucking see!"

The gunfire continued, drowning out any further screams for help from the marine who was now clawing at his charred and swollen face with his own two glove-covered hands. Meanwhile the SRG-team was returning fire themselves with Bassett taking point.

Rolled: 4

Bassett was throwing lead downrange at an impressive rate- earning an amused chuckled from Davis- though sadly most of his shots went wide. A pair of Grunts winced and moved into cover after suffering hits to their body armor and arms, either through ricochets or direct impacts. One of the Jackals stumbled slightly, having been struck in the leg.

Tremell glanced over towards Owen; "Keep it up!"

On the opposite end of the room stood Lyster, opening fire with his DMR. Two militiamen were standing nearby having seemingly renewed motivation in the presence of the giant of a trooper standing close.

Rolled: 2

Inspiring or not Lyster missed most of his shots unfortunately with his high-caliber DMR serving only as a warning for the enemies to not poke out of cover. Some were quick to take the hint and several Grunts ducked behind makeshift cover out on the street. A far more attractive alternative to having ones head be penetrated by a marksman rifle.

Lt. Jones was screaming at her radioman (or rather the phone-like microphone he held up towards her) in-between bursts of weapons fire. Not far away was King, also opening fire at the enemy.

Rolled: 7

Either by miracle or pure skill one of the Elites yelled in pain as his shields fluttered and failed, opening him up for attack. King's weapons fire tore up his chestplate and transformed whatever vital organs the alien once had into purple mush before the the tall alien warrior collapsed onto the street.

By now Jones looked up at Black. "They only have precision strikes on-call right now. Any of your guys got a targeting laser?"

Black nodded, waved at King and tossed a targeting laser- which looked much like a military binocular with some extra gizmos on it- towards the operative. "Go upstairs. Radio when you're all set up."

DrabberRogue NamelessTrax 0stinato SpazTheButcher Solar Daddy GhastlySquash Worthlessplebian

*
​

Optican - Product Development Branch

“Hold fire Domino, See if he will move on. If he gets aggressive make the shot.”

"Copy." Replied Domino, barely audible. There was a slight hint at disappointment in her voice.

Meanwhile the Elite continued to stare at the Human vehicles parked neatly outside of Optican. His beady black eyes didn't blink for at least a minute...

Rolled: 5

...but eventually he growled, said something in his own alien language and walked inside. All but one of the Elites dismounted and made for the door as well. There another Elite- armed with a carbine- took up position near the door, leaving a total of two Elites outside to watch the perimeter.

"Fucker at the door got a long-gun but the other asshole is still on his Ghost," muttered Domino.

"What's our play, boss?" Asked Ace, now looking slightly more confident than he did thirty seconds ago.

Calibutcher

 

[Calibutcher]

At least somebody seemed to be listening to his prayers. His patience in this regard paid off, at least partially. With only two elites at the doorway, their chance of escape looked a lot better. A ghost sitting at the ready for them was still an issue and would make their exit a running gunfight. They would determine how this fight started though and for now at least they outnumbered their enemies who were ready to respond.

"Delivering the supplies is still the priority." He began on the comms but he reached into a pouch on his vest and pulled out a frag grenade. "If you have frags toss them at the ghost and then we haul ass. Domino, Slick When the grenades go off, rain down on whatever is left standing." With any luck, neither vehicle nor Elite would be able to give chase to his squad. "Once our vehicles get moving get downstairs so we can pick you up. That means whoever isn't driving is returning fire." Cesar turned and peeked past the edge of the truck. He could hear the ghost hovering and hoped to spot it to better range his throw. After his quick peek he readied his grenade and looked to his squad, any others who had frags readied them. He grabbed the pin and with an exaggerated motion pulled it free to show his squad he was ready to throw and he made the toss.

With the grenade airborne, he threw open the door and slid across the seat sticking his rifle out the window. "Let's ride boys!" He called out no longer whispering as he waited for the boom of grenades to announce their ambush.

 

[GhastlySquash]

"When we're done, it's going to be their blood all over that wraith." Jackie chuckled, ducking and firing from her position. "We gotta be ready for suppressive fire for that Jackhammer, Barnes! Steady your shots, don't waste it!"

Jackie was worried. If the Wraith decided to fire at the building, they'd be done for. If she tried to move, she'd get picked off. So far, the fighting was continuing. But they are trying their best.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

King gasped as their faithful Leader Black tossed a targeting laser binos at him. The radioman dropped a hand from his rifle, knifing up to catch the device. He swung it to his belt, staring at Black for his order. Black commanded, King nodded. "Yes, sir!" He called through the commotion of lead propellants and burning plasma. He sprinted in a straight line then button-hooked into the doorway of a battle scarred building. Taking a breath, heart racing from being nearly missed by a plasma bolt. ONI's agent jogged up the stairs in circular fashion.

He found the corpse of a grunt -actually, it isn't dead. He can hear it's respirator working, the alien still drew whatever semblance of life into him. King oversteps the orange-shelled thing, then turns around to pump it full of 5×23mm, squarely into its dried raisin of a head. A splash of teal further ruined the mud-covered boots of Agent King. With his hatred satisfied, the agent ascended the building again. He kicked open the door, peeking right then left to secure it from hostiles.

He crouch walked to the edge of the roof, setting up as it were for the obvious action. The helmet's VISR linked to the binocular targeting device's optics, producing an approximation of what they say to Joseph's eyes. The agent nodded then radioed through the squad's channel. "This is King, target is in the splash zone. Permission to paint, over."

Viper Actual

 

[DrabberRogue]

Not far to Agent Grey's left, her chosen battle-buddy had taken up a position next to a small hole in the wall, using the nearby sandbags as both cover and a rest for the weight of his rifle. However while the rest of the guns in the room unleashed a storm of lead upon the enemy, the sniper's chosen instrument lay silent. With its muzzle resting upon the rim of that makeshift firing port, its foreboding profile still hidden from the outside, it swiveled over the street beyond with a patient curiosity. From behind its scope stared the piercing gaze of Lance Corporal Rose, steadily scrutinizing the enemy formation in search of valuable targets. The 14.5mm rounds cradled in his grip weighed heavy in their magazine, each worth the life of a Covenant officer. He wanted to make sure they went where they were meant to.

Naturally then Jace's attention quickly shifted past the cannon fodder advancing on their position, the magnification of his scope zooming to provide a better view of the enemy's command element. Ten elites all grouped defensively around the oppressive wraith at the center of the Covenant advance. A bit of an odd arrangement, the sharpshooter thought. Shouldn't they be pressing forward with the rest of the infantry, helping corral the grunts? It made him wonder just what was so important about the thing. Was their commander piloting that ominously marked behemoth? If only he could read space-squid...

As important a mark as the prize within that armored shell likely was, there were probably weapons in the building more equipped to deal with it than his. Hopefully. So Jace soon dialed back the magnification on his scope, taking a wider view to better pick his first target. Just in time to see one of the jackals squawking something at the others. Mere moments later his view was filled with vibrant green as they all concentrated fire on the lecture hall, Jace ducking back behind the sandbags as several bolts of plasma pelted the wall next to him.

"Shit!" The sharpshooter exclaimed in spite of himself, his heart pounding in his chest to the beat of the heavy staccato fire impacting all around the position. Getting shot at wasn't nearly as fun as doing the shooting. Taking a couple breaths to steady his nerve, Jace took a moment to glance at his surroundings, watching with grim fascination the effect of the enemy's suppressive fire on those around him. A half-second too late to react and he could've been like that marine, blinded and screaming on the floor.

Another breath out... steady Jace.

Daring to lean out from behind his trusty sandbags, he peered once more through his now slightly larger hole in the wall, rifle held in a low ready stance while he sought out that damn bird. Ordinarily he preferred to save his rounds for elites and other important targets, barring orders or strenuous circumstances. However it was that jackal, not the elites defending the wraith, who had taken the initiative to coordinate fire against his squad's position. That kind of distinguished action is what earned the attention of a sniper.

Once he'd confirmed his target, Jace shouldered his rifle yet again, bracing it as he had before and beginning to line up a shot. A stray blast of plasma impacting the wall not far from him prompted a brief flinch, but the trooper kept his focus this time. Deep breaths. His aim was a little wobbly to begin with, his heart still racing from the adrenaline, but he slowly worked to steady himself with each passing second. Deep... breaths... A well positioned jackal could be a difficult target. Their shield could deflect most any projectile small arms could throw at it, leaving precious few weak points in their defense. So the marksman waited for his mark to present that opening, when it stopped to fire, its arm held still in frame with the small opening on that brightly glowing shield. Deep breath in, deep breath out, Jace obsessively attempted to guide the small circular reticle of his rifle on target. Another slow exhale, the firm squeeze of the trigger...

...and the thunderous report of his rifle joined the chorus of gunfire.


Viper Actual

 

[0stinato]

Lyster’s service tag of COW was both an in-joke and a descriptor of the soldier’s sometimes unconventional force. An animal usually docile and dozy certainly failed to describe Lyster, but threaten her calf, scare her or frustrate her and the cow is deadlier than a wolf. A cow defended through force and offense, with goring horns and trampling hooves accompanied by a mass that could break bones going at speed. The threat of a fox would stand no chance. That was much more him.

Unfortunately, he was human, so he couldn’t just burst his way through a wall and begin swinging. He had a brain. And it was in his best interests to use it, even if he didn’t much feel like it sometimes.

Now though, both sides of him began to work, his mind iterating over various ideas that all involved some show of force beyond the walls of the lecture hall, in the vein of shattering the enemies’ morale, bolstering his side’s, and improving their position while he was at it. With King having been selected for a task by Black, he’d lost a player whose mentality he was beginning to grow accustomed to, so whatever plan he came up with he'd be relying on one of the other squad members to play their role expertly.

In fact, they’d both have to execute the same motions, just for certainty of coverage. The enemy beyond was well-fortified in both shields and cover positions, and his own DMR shots had mostly failed to make a dent in the Covenant swarming the area. His luck was waning, and he was not inclined to chance things more than he had to for the remainder of the fight. It was like being held against his will at the Roulette table, forced to make bets with his luck absent. He couldn’t walk away and try again later when his natural fortune had reset itself, so he was forced to make wary wagers, orchestrating his bets to leave him as close to neutral as possible rather than tempting a big loss.

He ducked into cover to reload, his movements hard-edged with eager frustration, and decided upon his ally. Should the man choose to accept the mission, Lyster had quite an idea in store for Bassett. Perhaps together, the Cow and the hound could scare off the fox beyond the walls.

‘Ba-ssett!’ Lyster crooned across the comms. ‘How’s your sense of self-preservation today?’


Bassett was hailing down with a rage often reserved for heroic final stands or valiant defenses. For Owen, each fight was meant to be either a crushing victory for his side, or at the worst a pyrrhic victory for his enemies. Even if some of his shots were missing, Owen was content bringing the Covenant's morale down. Who knew when one of their Grunt buddies would get lead to the head next? Bassett loved feeling in control like this. Had he not, he may not have survived some of the more intense encounters he experienced in his life. Adrenaline and rage and passion kept him nimble, agile and ready for whatever those ugly bastards could throw at him. The mass of man beside Owen caused him to pull back from the wall momentarily for cover. He checked his ammo counter; still half a mag left, but he needed to give his barrel a short break. He was running through ammunition like there would be no tomorrow. When he was addressed by his fellow breacher, Owen smirked beneath his soot stained visor. "Absent like it always is, COW. You sound like quite the schemer with that kind of opener. Lay it on me, big guy." A handful of plasma bolts hit the wall he hid behind and a few went over his head.


‘Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. Here’re my thoughts: smoke out the Wraith and in the few seconds while it’s blinded, we push back hard and fast. Lead and frags, break the bastards out of cover. The others should be able to pop ‘em as soon as they see ‘em.’

Time was what they needed the most, a few moments where they could aim, fire and aim again. Some had BRs, the ol’ reliable go-to that had the upper hand in a situation like this. The DMR was deadly when it had a good aim: it’d punch through a Covie skull like it was cardboard.

‘And if you want to make a mad play, should provide you the perfect arena. If only for a few seconds. If you’re in, toss me a smoke and let’s fuck up their odds.’



Bassett wasn't quite as interested in making hail Mary plays to save the day, but Lyster's suggestion was a good way to throw a lot of pain their way, and take some heat off the friendlies. After hearing a cry from somewhere in the building, distant but just as unsettling as if it were right by him, Owen decided the madman and the walking warcrime could risk their own safety a bit in hopes of giving their team some much needed aggro relief. If he and Lyster could distract the Wraith for even a single blast of its primary cannon, then it'd be worth it to Owen. "My rifle isn't very effective at this distance, so closing the gap would help me throw some pain at the Covvies." Owen nodded in agreement. He unclipped the designated cylindrical canister from his rig, revealing the plasma scoring on his armor. With an underhand toss, he gave Lyster the smoke grenade. "Hope you weren't lying about that major league arm of yours." Owen flinched as the wall he cowered behind received another volley of enemy fire.


‘Major league, ha! No way. And if you’re not effective from here, cover me or smoke the Wraith with me.’

With that he stepped away from the wall, his heart rate quickening in anticipation of the hashed-out events they’d planned.

‘Nothing Major League about this: on Bliss, we played cricket.’

He tested the weight in his palm once more, he alerted his fellows through the comms as he pulled the pin, stepped to the side, and aimed his throw through the wall towards their armoured vehicular adversary.


Owen halted his return fire momentarily to watch the big guy lob the grenade out the wall. With a nod, Owen got back into his nook in the crevice and began firing down on the Grunts in his vision to try and provide some level of support towards the team's volley. They had a few moments before the smoke filled up a sizeable area, and until then, he kept the lead flowing.


Roll: 6

With a thin plume of black smoke the grenade soared through the sky above the decimated outer defense line on the street and landed on the asphalt road with a faint thud.
Upon making contact with the road the grenade rolled a few meters before being stopped by a large chunk of debris. It popped, releasing a thick cloud of white smoke.

For a moment it looked like the Covenant forces would continue their assault with plasma fire piercing the smoke cloud and creating tiny swirls.

However, after a few shots the barrage ceased after one of the Elites barked out an order. By now the smoke covered most of the street, shielding the UNSC forces from the infrared-dependant sensors of the Wraith and the beady eyes of both Elites and Grunts.

The Covenant forces however were more exposed than before; Weapons, armor lights and shields stood out like neon signs on a concrete building when filtered through the smoke grenade.

Davis nodded towards Bassett and Lyster, waving one hand forward as he did. "Move up! We got you covered!"


‘Paint the streets, boys,’ Lyster replied to those prepping to cover. He shifted toward the hole in the wall, giving a nod to Bassett refreshing his VISR. What he wanted to do was go full barbarian, taking up his breaching axe and charging into the fray, cutting through jackals and grunts as though they were tangling vines in a thick undergrowth. But what he wanted usually wasn’t what was required, so he’d instead be giving some repetitious attention to the trigger of his DMR. Optimal behaviour.

And what easy pickings they’d make for the ODSTs behind him in cover, too: with the VISR’s sweep to guide them and the panicked neon swathes dancing through the smoke, Lyster had no doubt to his safety. At least... for perhaps 10 seconds. Maybe 12.

There was an annoying little bastard of a jackal that had been commanding its group to pepper the lecture hall with plasma. Although Lyster hadn’t been able to keep an eye on that particular jackal while he threw the smoke grenade, that was enough for him to focus his fire on the wee fuckers. Their shields shone through the smoke, and the VISR outlined the uncertainty in their movements. He upped that uncertainty, putting pressure on the jackals with his shots, forcing them out of their groups, all the while counting the seconds in his head. His push with Bassett had one goal, and he was going to see it succeed.

As the 8th second ticked by, Lyster switched tactic. He took a step backwards in the smoke as he pulled a frag out.

9th second.

He wound up and threw it, announcing his action over the comms, aiming for the elites whose ranks positioned them behind the grunts and jackals.

10th second, 11th second.

At this point, Lyster turned, his attention partially on the wraith, and went back towards his little hole in the wall.


Bassett was rearing to face his enemy head on, practically frothing at the mouth at the chance to rip an Unggoy's head off or beat a Jackal with it's own severed limb. Owen was ready to surge forward and break them like glass. Assault rifle in hand and Davis' words to back up his actions, Bassett threw himself out of cover and darted across the open ground, under cover fire from his unit and the wispy smoke that permeated the area. He fired blindly into the smoke with controlled bursts, hoping that his shifting angle would catch a few unlucky heads and fill them with lead. Owen routed around to the right of the main firefight hoping to get a decent angle on those focused on the college building. He didn't have a line of sight on the Wraith, but hopefully the ruckus he was causing would capture its attention, or, at least, that of the Covvie soldiers he was engaging. When confronted with a flank, most would panic and turn their attention to the new threat, which exacerbated the problems. All it took was Owen to sustain his fire, land a few hits, and not die in addition to whatever Lyster could accomplish. All this was in support of the SPNKr play, hoping the rocket could disable the Wraith if provided an opening.

This would be that opening if there ever was one.

--
Collab with: Solar Daddy (grey) and Viper Actual (navy)

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - E-Building

Following the suppressing fire the current inhabitants of the classroom sprung into action; King had already left the room by the time Lyster and Bassett announced their departure and soon-to-be assault at the enemy lines. In the matter of a minute the Covenant attackers would find themselves slightly overwhelmed as not only did the UNSC defenders let out a barrage of bullets but they also masked the immediate vicinity with a smoke grenade.

Blinded and without proper frontline leadership- or a boot to spur them along- the Grunts and Jackals halted with most being caught in the middle of the smoke cloud.

Rather than taking cover or using the smoke to retreat the hostile infantry ended up holding their ground. Unfortunately for them Lyster and Bassett weren't and the pair of troopers were quickly homing in on their location.

Lyster ended up in the thick of it first...

Rolled: 4

High-caliber rounds from Lyster's DMR assaulted the Jackals with series of double shots having been wrapped up in a nice armor-piercing coating and sent their way. At least two of the bird-like aliens stumbled or fell to their knees with a third one letting out a panicked screech as its shield collapsed and allowed another salvo to pierce its body.

The Jackal leader, however, remained on his feet. His orange shield shone bright, almost in a taunting way with how visible it was through the smoke.

Next up was Bassett, charging in closely behind Lyster...

Rolled: 7

Either through immense luck or through divine intervention Owen's short bursts of automatic fire absolutely destroyed the enemy's frontline units. Several Grunts were struck by the rifle fire with one even popping off into the air as its methane-filled rebreather was hit. The psychological effect was as instant and caused the surviving Grunts to panic and flee backwards towards the Elites which in turn left the Jackals isolated out on the street.

Rolled: 3

With Owen having done his thing Lyster readied a frag grenade before departing. The grenade was tossed in the general direction of the Jackals though with everything going on the alien infantry were on high alert and the Jackal officer cackled out a quick order in response to the sound of the grenade bouncing towards them on the road.

Being quick to move aside only one of the Jackals were caught in the blast, leaving the squad leader and three more remaining.

At this point King had reached the roof after sprinting past the equally tightly packed upper floor of the building filled with ODSTs, militia and two very out of place ComCam-specialists.

"This is King, target is in the splash zone. Permission to paint, over."

Static filled the radio for a brief moment before Black replied; "Keep it painted! I'm calling in support right now!"

There was a brief pause though King would be able to hear Black talking to someone else, presumably Lt. Jones' radioman. "Strike incoming! Thirty seconds!"

...and the thunderous report of his rifle joined the chorus of gunfire.

During those thirty seconds time would slow to a crawl and as King waited for the target to be hit Jace opened fire with his sniper rifle downstairs.

Roll: 3

Unfortunately for Jace his shot would not hit his mark, but rather the edge of its energy shield which caused it to ricochet into one of the other Jackals. The alien yelped as the bullet pierced its leg and dug itself into a nearby car.

Back inside E-Building there were a lot of panting and twitching as Barnes tried to keep the camera steady despite the immense amount of weapons all around him.

"We gotta be ready for suppressive fire for that Jackhammer, Barnes! Steady your shots, don't waste it!"

Eyeing his superior momentarily with a sort of 'Are you fucking crazy?'-look, Barnes shook his head and continued to record the fighting outside. By now smoke had covered most of the street though Barnes was able to continue recording using thermal imaging, thus allowing him to witness Lyster and Bassett charge at the enemy. "Fucking ODSTs, man..." He mumbled to himself.

When Halvarsson suddenly burst back into the room carrying a SPNKr and a set of spare tubes for it Zagama and the rest of the troopers inside the room intensified their efforts to keep the enemy pinned. Without a word Halvarsson took a knee not far away from Larson and cycled the tubes already loaded into the launcher. He then shouldered the weapon and aimed at the Wraith, yelling; "Clear backblast!"

Zagama stopped firing, lowered her weapon and looked back behind Halvarsson. Nobody was standing behind him and as such she tapped him at the top of his helmet. "Backblast clear!"

Rolled: 2

One of the rockets was launched with a loud SWOOSH and hurled itself at the enemy Wraith. The alien tank reacted, turning to face the rocket. It fired a ball of plasma which met the rocket mid-air, creating a powerful explosion. Several of the Elites roared with anger though one was visibly laughing.

"Fuck!" Said Zagama. She pointed downrange; "Prepare another rocket!"

Halvarsson however did not have time to reply. Upstairs King would be the first to both see and hear a trio of artillery shells bearing down on the Wraith.

Rolled: 5

Fired from a distant artillery piece, the shells more or less screamed during their descent. The Elites looked up and started to yell out commands but by then however it was already too late. An explosion manifested itself on the left side of the street, obliterating one of the civilian structures. A second came close to the Wraith, although it merely injured and killed three of the Elites. The third and last explosion showered the wraith in concrete debris but was otherwise a miss, leaving the target still active with minimal effect from the artillery strike.

Black's voiced reached King's ears once more. "Did we hit it?"

DrabberRogue 0stinato Solar Daddy GhastlySquash Worthlessplebian

*​

Optican - Product Development Branch

"Let's ride boys!"

Rolled: 1

The Elites immediately turned their attention to the row of vehicles opposite them. As Cesar and his squad exposed themselves and threw grenades the Elite at the door dove into cover inside the building where as the second out in the open sped away on his Ghost, narrowly avoiding certain death as at least four frag grenades went off.

During the chaos Gizmo, Torch and Limbo hopped in behind the wheels of each respective vehicle. Ace jumped into the passenger seat with Gizmo in the rear car, leaving Cesar to ride with Limbo inside the commandeered civilian vehicle as it was flanked by both police vehicles.

By now the Ghost was turning around and re-orienting itself while the Elite equipped with a carbine peeked out on the street from his covered position.

Rolled: 6

Just then precision fire from Domino and Slick made his shields flicker and pop, causing him to withdraw. They changed target, rounds pinging off of the Ghosts sloped frontal armor. Like before the shields flickered and the pilot swerved right into an alley for cover leaving the street open for Cesar and his team just as the vehicles started to move.

Domino and Slick were already outside when the trucks pulled up and as both operators jumped into the rear vehicle alien shouting echoed from the enemy command post.

"Hang on," said Torch as he accelerated the lead vehicle to use as a battering ram. Civilian vehicles abandoned in the middle of the road were moved aside as the heavy tactical vehicle cleared a way for the rest of the convoy.

"Cesar," said Limbo. She nodded towards the rear mirror. Behind them Elites were pouring out of the command post- more than those that had recently arrived- with several saddling up to pursue the Human vehicles.

"Fucking great," said Ace over comms before crawling back into the truck to use the roof hatch. Like most tactical vehicles the roof hatch on the TRU's own armored cars came fitted with a shield that could protect a single operator from small-arms fire. That is, if whoever's shooting is using ballistic weapons. Ace didn't seem to care as he popped up and rotated the turret ring to face backwards.

"Bring it, suckers!"

Calibutcher

 

[0stinato]

Leaping back through the hole in the wall as the smoke was clearing felt like a higher-octane version of slipping into bed after a raucous gym sesh, returning to a safe location surrounded by allies with a satisfaction of progress of a sort. The pummelling blasts of the rocket and artillery blowing their little segment of hell to pieces was an intended signalling of the upper hand having been gained but, as Lyster looked round, eager to see the scene of destruction and roiling purple-black plasma flame amidst the radiant explosion of the enemy craft, he saw nothing but dust. Then, like a middle finger sliding into view, the wraith cruised lazily to the side, shedding rubble as it did.

On the upside, elites had been eliminated. On the downside, the wraith hadn’t. On an unrelated note, which Covvie races even had middle fingers?

Now the smoke was gone, Lyster was much less confident about standing near one of those damn holes: the wraith’s occupant had witnessed his side push the boundaries, and either that or the sensation of the scales tipping might urge it into extreme action.

Instead of returning to his original cover, he continued moving further into the room, dropping behind a makeshift cover of tables and chairs while he switched mags. His hands automatically adopted that practiced rhythm as he did so. He’d had a long time to perfect his magazine swapping, being an older ODST. Nothing had got the better of him yet. A particularly nasty piece of shrapnel had had a real go a few years ago, though. Some days he still thought he could feel the scrape of metal shards in his capillaries.

Grey and Rose were nearby, and they caught Lyster’s attention while he worked. They were, what, mid-20s? He wouldn’t make a judgement on an ONI agent’s capabilities, since it would be perfectly pointless to, but he could judge Rose as highly skilled. Losing either to the barely-escapable clench of combat-related death would be a blow to the average competency of the UNSC forces. Whereas, if he died, in whatever comic fashion he could imagine, the average IQ would shoot up! Average humility would fall, average wit would plummet, but at least the UNSC’s IQ would rise. Brain over prawns, or whatever it was.

‘Grey and Rose, either of you got another answer for that Wraith? Any armour-piercing sniper rounds? Run kicking and screaming towards it?’ he snickered as he got in position to fire at an elite whose shields had come down during the artillery shots. ‘The latter worked well enough for our ancestors, after all.’

--
Interactions: Viper Actual and DrabberRogue

 

[Worthlessplebian]

King received their vaunted leader's permission to light up that wraith as if it were the fourth of July. And he did with such glee as a finger pressed the top button on the laser binoculars. The little red reticle flickered intently on the purple blur, partially overtaken when the main cannon charged its ghostly shell. The binoculars clicked within second, Agent King smiled devilishly. He slid the view pointer aside, letting his head stick out like a sore thumb and a bad invitation to that raunchy party years ago. It went against his field training from the UNSC Marine corps. Hell, against basic survival instincts but through King's career as a radioman, these artillery strikes were the moments that carried him.

King's eyes rolled up to spot the munition. His lips contorted to whistle that classic tune that follows a bomb when it's dropped from the sky. However, this is where the appreciation ends as King's instincts take over him. He ducks behind the edge of roof, nestling neatly in the crevice. Bang. Shrapnel. Bang. Debris. Bang. Fragments. Sufficient to say that his ears weren't pining to hear another round of that shelling. In typical King fashion, he stuck his head out again with the practiced rhythm of a whack-a-mole.

Woosh, the dust fell over him as it did the juncture of street bellow him. Prompting a wave of his hand to shoo away the cloud, a futile gesture but the chalky smoke cleared. Only to reveal the Wraith lazily trudging along from the collapsed building. King's eyes simply could not fathom it. What rotten luck. The silverlining to this shit basket is that the Covenant trooper escort was wiped out in total.

King's hand lasered up to his radio as Agent Black's words requested clarification. "Target is still operational, I repeat. Target is still operational, over." This is not what his ONI colleague wanted to hear, but it's the honest truth.

His rifle's forward grip smacked the eave then fired volley after volley at the Wraith, it wouldn't do anything but get its attention. "Get a SPNKR in here or flank this piece of shit, I'll wrangle it as much as I can."

A bold move for one so composed and sacrifice averse.

Interactions: 0stinato Viper Actual DrabberRogue and everyone still alive.

 

[Solar Daddy]

When smoke cleared and dust settled, Bassett found himself holed up against a charred wreck of civilian transport, a few tens of meters from his unit's main vantage point. As much as he felt like an open target, his position actively forced their opponents to consider their flank, which would cause many to step into unfavorable positions. Either they were going to be lit up by Owen, or by his team. As long as he was there firing along with the chorus being performed by his team, the Covvie bastards would get no respite in combat. With the artillery strike imminent, Bassett had kept himself low and protected behind the car wreck, his skull and head rumbling around inside his helmet as Earth kicked up all around him. By the time the strike was done, Owen was covered in char, plasma scoring and debris, further cementing his ghostly look. Bassett used his hand to wipe away the smog on his visor before peeking the enemies once more. Surely the Wraith was no more and the rest of the ground units were routed.

No. The purple hunk of metal hovered over the ground with its primary canon ready as it had been before the strike. "What the fuck? How much can that thing take?" Owen asked, throwing in a few more curses in there somewhere. He had no idea what kind of ordinance their team had left, and they'd no doubt be resorting to more desperate attempts as their supplies dwindled. Wordlessly, Owen fired a volley of lead at the remaining force, then sprinted the short distance to the next vehicle. He did this twice until he was properly positioned in a flank, bolstered by King's rooftop antics, hoping most of the attackers would have forgotten him by now. If this was time for a sacrifice play, Bassett was in a decent enough position to give it an attempt. "What's the plan Black? Davis?" His voice crackled over comms while keeping a comparatively low profile. "Do I need to ram a 'nade up it's ass or what?"

 

[Calibutcher]

He would have loved to have seen the blue blood of alien gore splatter the walls as they loaded into the vehicles. But the alert aliens dove for cover and the boom of frag grenades did little to sway their enemy. He wasn’t just counting on luck and a good toss. If he had this would be a totally different ride. Slick and Domino followed through on their orders and the rain of bullets gave them time to load into the truck. “So far so good!” HE hollered into the radio. The adrenaline of the getaway already pumping into his system.

Limbo drew his attention to the building they were just neighbors with. Elites with their colorful armor and massive frames came out of the human-sized doorway. As he leaned out the window to look it was almost comedic to see the aliens have to duck and come out of the doors one at a time. At least human architecture was slowing them down a little bit. But not enough. He would have been upset if just one Ghost was pursuing them it was clear they would have more to deal with.

He turned in the truck so he could better lean out the window with his gun. It was to be a mobile shoot-out. “Rain lead on 'em!” He gave the command even as he began firing back, anything he could do to keep the aliens back.

“Torch, try to stick to narrow roads when you can. Hopefully, we can keep the ghosts single file so they can’t all shoot at us.” As the trucks bumped across the road a few loose crates slipped free of the and scattered their contents on the ground. Medical supplies dotted the roads behind them. “Aye!” He yelled in annoyance. “Don’t let the crates spill all over the place, we don’t want to leave breadcrumbs so they can follow easier.” He reached back to the truck bed and tugged on a loose strap working to better secure the precious cargo.

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - E-Building

Grey went into cover and shook her head twice. "Negative," she took a deep breath and exhaled. "Unfortunately my good looks and witty charm won't have much effect on that hovering piece of junk." The agent ended her statement with a brief smile directed at Lyster before turning to look at Rose.

"Got any aces up your sleeve, Sailor?"

"Target is still operational, I repeat. Target is still operational, over."

Black cursed over the radio before responding; "Lay down some fire on whatever asshole is still left standing. I'm going to coordinate a second strike but it's going to take some time."

"What's the plan Black? Davis?" His voice crackled over comms while keeping a comparatively low profile. "Do I need to ram a 'nade up it's ass or what?"

Davis was quick to respond in-between the staccato of gunfire echoing from the building behind Owen. "Stand by, Black is calling for more support. Hopefully we can get some flyboys in here."
There was a pause, almost like a sigh. "Keep your head down there Bassett."

Inside the classroom things were growing more tense by the second. Sure, the artillery strike had eliminated most of the enemy infantry but the Wraith was still a big threat. Even more so was the pilot within, expertly piloting the vehicle while simultaneously commanding the troops around it.

For Ovo 'Vrasamai the battle was indeed not proceeding in his favor. While he did indeed have the Humans cornered inside their fragile little structure his own forces had been more or less routed or wiped out. Aside from a few loyal warriors- all from allied and loyal houses- still in cover Ovo had lost most of the forces he set out with. The holographic displays inside the Wraith doused his face in a faint mix of cyan and purple as he clasped his mandibles together in frustration.

He fired another shot towards the second floor of the structure, watching the plasma fly in a perfect arc before melting away more of the facade upon impact. Ovo was no fool, he knew that for his house- House Vrasamai- to reach good standing with that of the Field Marshal he could not fail his current task. If he were to return without a victory, without having secured this strategic location then he would be executed on the spot for cowardice.

There was another option beyond retreat: Call for reinforcements. Ovo growled as he formed the words.

"[Send in the second wave!]"

Rolled: 6

For the UNSC forces the battle had reached a sort of stalemate with either side unwilling or incapable of finishing the other off. That is, until a massive explosion occurred mere meters away from Owen. What had once been a gate leading into a courtyard between two buildings was now a smoldering hole filled with smoke. While rubble and debris continued to rain down on the street large and muscular figures emerged from the opening.

Clad in heavy plate armor of various vibrant colors a squad of Brutes was now entering the fray. They took up position in front of the Wraith and spread out in cover, firing their Spikers as they did.

Lt. Jones shouldered her rifle while gesturing out towards the street. "Enemy reinforcements! Engage!"

DrabberRogue 0stinato Solar Daddy GhastlySquash Worthlessplebian

*
​

Optican - Product Development Branch

“Torch, try to stick to narrow roads when you can. Hopefully, we can keep the ghosts single file so they can’t all shoot at us.”​

"Rog', I'll do my best boss." Replied Torch as the tactical vehicle continued to pummel through abandoned HuCiv cars littering the streets like a metal glove punching through a piece of wet paper. Behind Cesar's vehicle Ace was forced to duck as one of the spilled medical crates exploded into a million sealed medical packets mixed in with debris upon being struck by the rear police vehicle.

The roof of the armored vehicle was peppered even if Gizmo did his best to avoid the cloud of shrapnel, prompting Ace to cover his head and neck as best he could. Because of this momentary lapse in fire the leading Ghosts accelerated further, closing in on the rear vehicle unopposed.

"They're gaining on us!" Limbo said, a slight hint of panic in her voice. At the same time Slick and Domino both removed the caps on a pair of window-mounted firing ports facing back towards the Ghosts. They both nestled their rifle muzzles inside and started to open fire. It was far from accurate but at least it made the pursuing aliens lose momentum as they were forced to avoid the incoming weapons fire.

At the same time Cesar's helmet radio sparked to life;

"Unknown civilian vehicles, this is Dagger Actual. Please maintain your current speed and heading. We'll sort out your fanclub, over."

Limbo glanced over to Cesar. She must've heard the transmission as well. "Who the hell has access to our comms like that?"

Calibutcher

 

[Worthlessplebian]

The ONI Agent could not help but continue staring at the smooth-surfaced war machine. As if his brown eyes were weapons of war. Placed on the edge of the roof, trying to sear a hole into the Wraith's pilots domed cockpit. Alas, King is decidedly human and not a mobile Spartan Laser. Bringing up the scope of his battle rifle, he tried to find stranglers from the bombing run. Elites were proud creatures, they prefer honor above all even above their lives. So it would not be justice for them to give up so easily, so readily. King's razor focus was broken when the squad's leader, Black, scattered the radio frequencies with his voice.

"Lay down some fire on whatever asshole is still left standing. I'm going to coordinate a second strike but it's going to take some time."

King nodded along with the command, though he wasn't even near Black. "Roger that." King replied with a mirthless tone. His rifle began a symphony of short bursts as King tried to tag off survivor after survivor, though whether he'll land a lethal shot is up to Luck herself. A lingering thought wormed its way into King's headspace, what if he had been the alien commander of this mission? A howl escaped his lungs while the mind painted an elaborate, winding bridge with a distinct violet metal and blue holographic displays.

He examined the state of his forces, several perishing by the humans' cowardly tactical bombing. One heavy vehicle maintained full operation but he knew that without ground support, it too would fall to the humans' treacherous combined fire. An immediate deployment of reinforcements of his kinsmen should tilt the odds.

Returning to reality an explosion, massive in scope, alarmed King to commotion at the gates. Was he wrong? A superheated spike resoundingly answered: "No" to that question. The commander did prove King right in summoning reinforcements, though it wasn't the reinforcements King was expecting.

His hand whisked the radio to answer. "We got apes with stapler guns!" King shouted as he took aim at one of the brutes securing the Wraith's position.

Viper Actual 0stinato DrabberRogue Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway

On one side of the rigid and slightly arched skyway came the sound of war, echoing through and between the thousands of windows lining the street. Normally the street would be filled with businessmen and entrepreneurs either heading to one of the many office complexes or any of the dozen high-end boutiques and restaurants. Perpetus Office Supplies had thrived on Verent as it landed contract after contract to provide companies with everything from sleek office tablets to staplers.

The company had shared its walls with a small-time aerospace company, a family-owned business that provided interior decor, a call-center owned by a large tech firm and and a local security company offering dynamic security solutions and risk management. Across the skyway there had been yet another five neighboring companies with all ten sharing a food court, conference rooms and more.

Now the entire complex laid vacant. Silent. Abandoned.

In war the first casualty was freedom itself. Freedom to live your life, freedom to speak up and freedom to go where you please.

Major Kovac sighed but as the air was expelled from his lungs the pain in his ribs flared up. He gritted his teeth but maintained a steady and proud posture. Standing at the center of the skyway facing enemy territory- Covenant territory- he was surrounded on all sides by his own marines and members of the local Verent Militia. The last thing they needed right now was to see their commanding officer falter and Kovac would rather die on the field of battle than to look into the eyes of his soldiers knowing he'd made them hesitate and lose hope.

He blinked with his one good eye and took a breath. A bandage had been wrapped around his other eye as well as his left arm. Hardened resin-like residue from a biofoam canister protruded out from the left bottom of his body armor and purple splatter had stained his armor, uniform and aging face. The latter had been the parting gift of the Elite officer that had ambushed him and the platoon with him as they responded to a distress signal.

The flight crew they had set out to evacuate had unfortunately perished but on their way back Kovac and his marines had stumbled upon Robert Smith- a militia sergeant- and his men holed up in a bombed-out police precinct. Greater numbers meant better odds at surviving and as such the two men had joined forces. Unbeknownst to them both a Covenant assault party had been tracking Kovac's radioman and shortly after moving out the one and a half platoon of soldiers had been ambushed.

Fortunately for Kovac and Smith reinforcements had appeared out of the nowhere and in the shape of something Kovac had only heard mentions of in cautionary tales or in whispers between his fellow officers;

Spartans.

"Are you alright, Major?" Asked the metal figure next to him.

Nodding, Kovac exhaled. Once again the pain spiked through his body. It wouldn't be long until the biofoam cracked, letting whatever had ruptured inside of him continue to bleed him out. I need to get them to safety.

Turning to his right, Kovac looked up at the Spartan. Slightly smaller than those he'd heard stories of the soldier in front of him was still taller than any normal person. Armored up in a lighter version of the MJOLNIR power-armor she stared at Kovac with an opaque, onyx-black, visor which matched the subdued and grey color of her armor.

"I'm fine, captain." It was an obvious lie. Then again, a blank visor didn't offer much in the way of skepticism. As far as Kovac could tell the Spartan didn't care. When she turned away without further comments Kovac straightened himself slightly.

"What's our timetable?"

"Two minutes, maybe three." Replied the augmented super-soldier.

Kovac grunted. "Let's get this show on the road then. One last show of force before we fall back to Innovation Plaza."

"Yessir," said Brooke-A401. She turned away and switched to TEAMCOM, addressing the two other members of her team; "Kane. Ivar. Ready up, we're gonna take care of those incoming enemy vehicles in pursuit of the friendlies."

A pair of green lights winked on her helmet-HUD, confirming that her order had been received. Meanwhile Kovac turned to one of his officers; "Staff-Sergeant Gutierrez."

The female marine raised her chin and looked at Kovac with a steely gaze. "Major, sir."

"Get the word out. Suppressive fire, half a magazine's worth. No grenades. Watch out for the friendly vehicles and halt engagement once the Spartans are in play." Gutierrez acknowledged the order and left Kovac's side, moving across the skyway to find the officers under her.

With approximately one minute left the skyway had quickly fallen silent. Everyone had their orders and- God willing- after this engagement it'd be quick hump back to friendly lines for a well-deserved breather. As seconds passed the growl of several vehicles steadily increased as Cesar's convoy of commandeered vehicles drew closer and closer.

Cpl. Radankovic- sometimes referred to as 'Vic' by his peers- grunted, almost angrily. He glanced to his left, looking at the platoon corpsman. "Hey Grim," Vic said. "Figured out a wishlist yet or are you just gonna stuff your pockets with anything that isn't nailed to the ground once we're back at the CP?"

"I know I will," said Vic, chuckling. More or less everyone in the platoon had expended over seventy percent of their ammunition and medical supplies. Nobody had said it aloud but everyone knew that another prolonged engagement let alone a simple firefight would cost the marines more than they had.

It was a tough spot- especially for a combat unit in a warzone.

Grim Wraithe Stjerna

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway​

Chief Petty Officer Deamin "Grim" Black had used the brief respite to do a quick triage of what was left of the platoon.

The majority of his medical supplies were running very short: biofoam injectors, pressure dressings, field splints and rapid casts, stitch and structure kits. And like all good Corpsman and medics before him, he had stocked up on some additional civilian products, like MediGel in a various sizes and applicators. Those were being held in reserve as last ditch items for serious wounds that needed higher echelon care on a ship or field hospital. While a civilian version of biofoam, it was not as robust as its military grade counterpart. The he had run out of polly-sue, officially known as Polypseudomorphine, he never seemed to issued enough of that stuff. Fortunately he still had his own medkit strapped to his left thigh, as the majority of the platoon still had their as well. On his right thigh was the M6C SOCOM, though he had the same ammunition and magazines as the rest of his platoon. Ensuring ammo sharing was an option, and given the way things had gone that was going to be a given soon enough.

After running through his very diminished inventory, Grim took a moment to read the med status of his Marines on his VISR, quickly noting that most were green; fully combat capable, a few yellow; non-critical injuries and ambulatory, could fight. And only one or two were red; critical injuries that required higher level care. One was ambulatory and one was on a stretcher ready to move. The Chief spent a few extra moments assessing the Major; reading BP, heart rate, core temp and how long ago he been infected with biofoam. 'That man should be laying down and sedated. Not leading an offensive!' The Chief shook his head, dismissing the irritating man from his thoughts. 'If he lives through this I'll order him on a Pelican and CASEVAC his ass to the nearest ship.' He had seen to many heros and stubborn prideful officers and enlisted die for no reason other than they did not want to look weak or be a burden.

"Hey Grim," Vic said. "Figured out a wishlist yet or are you just gonna stuff your pockets with anything that isn't nailed to the ground once we're back at the CP?"

The older man looked over at the Corporal. "Vic, I'm gonna grab everything I can, stuff them in a pack and fill my pockets and yours!" Pulling the magazine from his MA5D and verified it was full before reinserting and doing a chamber check. "Not to mention confiscating that bottle whisky tucked away in your bag." His tone shifting to that of a stern older brother who's not going to tell Dad, but wants you to worry he might.

Holding out his gloved hand in a 'give it here' motion to Vic.

 

[Calibutcher]

Hanging halfway out of a window of a moving truck to try and secure cargo while under fire was among right up there with the kind of stupid you saw when a guy tried to hold a mattress on the roof of his car with just his arm. Tug as he might the load would do little to heed his will, plasma fire scorching the air around him is what really rocked his focus back to where it needed to be. Falling supplies were not more valuable than his team.

He heard the machine gun at the rear of their convoy stop firing a moments panic seized him as he wondered if he had just lost a man. “Somebody, keep the gun chattering! I don't care if you have to blind fire the thing, point it their way, and pull the trigger.” He wanted to ask about Gizmo, but it was time to fight not worry.

He heard the crack of new gunfire from the rear vehicle and was about to poke out the window again to add to the suppressing fire when he get a call over the comm. He and Limbo locked eyes for a moment and she said what was on his mind before him. “No idea, but I’m not about to turn down help.” He made a brief gesture to the sky, his way of recognizing whoever might be out there watching out for him. It was reassuring to hear another human voice, especially one that was concerned with his team's safety. With a shrug to Limbo, he tapped his comm to respond. “Rodger that Dagger Actual, not civilian, TRU team we come bearing gifts, just cleaned out an optician. Get these covies off our back and we will share our loot.” Not that he would ever hold back supplies from Marines but it seemed like a good idea to incentivize his team's rescue.

“Keep it up boys, help is inbound!” Not satisfied with just being a hype man for his team or conveying radio communications he leaned out of the window again rifle in hand and took a few potshots at anything purple or alien looking.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Owen groveled at Davis' orders. Keep his head on? How? Heroes weren't long for this war, but damn if they didn't need every sacrifice play they had to win this thing. Whoever was commanding these airstrikes better be pinpoint accurate. Owen didn't want to deal with a Wraith breathing down his squad's neck any longer. In hindsight, Owen wished he had stolen the SPNKr from whoever wielded it. The Wraith wouldn't have had any chance to stop his shot from where he currently was, just a few tens of meters away from the hovering purple fuck.

Owen gripped his rifle tight but stayed low. At the current moment, he didn't have anything to do against the Wraith and simply tried to keep its attention off him. One shot of its cannon would obliterate Bassett and the feeble civilian car wreck he hid behind. If needed, he'd make a play to grab the Wraith's attention, but he doubted he'd get the full attention of the main cannon and would simply be cut down in a hail of plasma fire from the turret stationed on the tank. Prepared to take whatever orders were given to him, Bassett waited and waited, until -

BANG. Owen fell to his side as smoke and debris blasted around him once again, a metal grate sliding across the cracked pavement in front of him. His ears rang heavy as he regained his composure, not even able to hear King's callout of the approaching threat. Bassett looked in the direction of the explosion to see a new wave of enemies, this time directly besides Owen. Shit. He needed to move, and fast.

"I've got silverbacks on me, need to leg it!" Owen warned his team over comms as quick as he could. He bolted to his feet and feathered the trigger of his AR while sprinting to the next nearest cover, a barricade splitting the street down the middle. He dove over the edge and landed with a role before clinging up against the cover. Now the Wraith and squad of Brutes knew his position, but he was marginally closer to his squad and behind more solid cover.

 

[GhastlySquash]

Sometimes an impasse hurt worst than a defeat. In defeat, there was certainty. It’s what guided wars. The illusion of certainty. Certain of one’s capability. Loyalty. Values. What you were laying your life on the line for.

Certainty was a rare commodity right now. The enemy was pushed back, but quickly assembled a group of brutes rushing in as the second wave.

The ONI agent considered her options. But at that moment, the order came to engage.

Stalemate or not, there was little choice for them. Raising her rifle, Larsen began to target the new wave of targets.

Turning to Barnes she shouted back. “Get up here and help me! Stop ‘shooting’ and start shooting! We are not dying here! Not yet!”