Futuristic Halo: Operation SHATTERED SKY (IC - CLOSED)

[0stinato]

‘Grey and Rose, either of you got another answer for that Wraith? Any armour-piercing sniper rounds? Run kicking and screaming towards it? The latter worked well enough for our ancestors, after all.’

As much as he'd joked about their ancestors, Lyster hadn't actually imagined they'd show up. He also hadn't imagined they'd show up by blasting through a pair of gates mere feet from the last location he'd seen Bassett at.

And so the God complex grows: perhaps Lyster could sardonically comment on the Wraith spontaneously exploding and the universe would see fit for it to happen. Turn it from a humming mortar-maw into a lightshow, a fountain of purple sparks, a catherine-wheel of plasmic doom that would hopefully take out every remaining Covie in its wake.

The danger had doubled. Brutes decorated the scene with spikers as they fanned out to support the remaining Elites, their projectiles glowing with heat. The goading voices of the Brutes were barely audible over the mutli-textured cacophony of weapon fire. Just as Lyster's ear was adjusting to the noise, the hollow rattle of the spikers changed in cadence as several of the Brutes had their attention drawn to something else. And that something else was Bassett, an ODST who Lyster now suspected might be more insane than he had let on.

'Shit,' Lyster hissed. Did the dude have a bet with the devil? Lyster would congratulate him if so. There he was, tumbling like a jester into cover, assault rifle in hand, with the aim of coming back this way.

Lyster grinned without mirth and scanned what he could see, exploiting the opportunity of enemy distraction to leave the cover he'd taken with Grey and Rose. He had to get up close, introduce the Brutes to the wrong end of his shotgun.

'Cover me,' Lyster spoke over comms as he moved without hesitation to the rightmost hole in the wall of the lecture hall, from which there was a straight shot towards the B-building opposite. 'And Bassett, get into that building, I'm with you!'

In the moment the wraith seemed distracted, Lyster broke from the cover of the lecture theatre. His shotgun rested in his grip, but not in a firing position: he was relying totally on his squadmates now as he sprinted for cover, a totalled car against the the wall of the opposite building. If they could get inside that building together and move up through it, they'd have the opportunity to create a flanking position from the rooms within.


Several members of the SRG-team perked up in response to Lyster's short request with Black about to form a verbal objection just as Lyster sprinted past him and Jones.

His objection was interrupted however as an unlikely ally followed Lyster's example, placing a hand on Black's shoulder as he moved past the ONI operative and sprinted out from cover and out onto the street;

"Cover the Sarge!" Yelled Johansen as he raised his weapon to fire two short bursts before pressing on, tailing Lyster closely.

Wendell and Hayworth glanced at one another in confusion before refocusing and shoving their respective rifle muzzles through two of the many improvized firing ports lining the lecture room wall.

Tremell and Davis followed their example, as did several of Jones' troopers and attached militiamen.

Rolled: 7

Together the line of soldiers unleashed hell upon the line of enemy infantry, forcing them to duck and crouch behind cover as bullets of various calibers pinged and ricocheted off of wrecked civilian vehicles and debris.

With this pause Lyster and Johansen would have enough momentum to charge forth, providing invaluable seconds for the two of them to make their next move and mid-sprint decision.


And that decision was a simple one. Lyster had heard the sound of someone falling into position behind him, someone firing behind him, but he didn't allow that hanging question mark to slow him down. Bassett was nearby, but around the corner.

Dropping diagonally into cover behind the totalled car, Lyster finally managed to see who was joining him. Johansen certainly hadn't hesitated in making his choice. Lyster didn't comment, simply noted his company and continued. His next thought was one of practicality: they couldn't both remain behind this car forever.

He stood swiftly and slammed the butt of his shotgun through the nearest window, repeating the action a couple of times to dislodge as much glass as possible before dropping back behind the car.

'In, death-wish, and cover Bassett. I'll follow you.'

--
Collab with: Viper Actual (navy)
Interactions: Solar Daddy

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent - Geosynchronous Orbit

Packed tighter than sardines the civilians, local law enforcement and military personnel aboard the orbital-end of the Verent City Space Elevator was an enticing target. Minimal defenses combined with its strategic value made it a critical soft-target susceptible to pretty much any type of ship-based weapon systems. Yet, despite all of this, the Covenant battlegroup were still holding their position with guns and engines cold.

To Captain Gentry of the Tangible Excuse this play was- tactically- illogical and posed a grave cause of concern. He rubbed his beard slowly while shifting his focus between various monitors in front of him and the large viewport which dominated the far end of the bridge.

Currently he had a perfect line of sight of the Empire, her two escort frigates, the orbital station and the oblong-shaped alien vessels far off in the distance. To them however he and the Razor-class Prowler which he commanded had were completely invisible. Granted, if one had a big enough flashlight and a really good set of eyes they could probably find the Tangible eventually.

Physically she wasn't invisible, just very tough to spot with her dark stealth coating and minimalistic profile. Electronically she was a complete ghost.

Lt. Karding- Gentry's weapons officer- broke the silence of the bridge. "Sir, all Hornets are armed and ready. We have strong signals on all of them."

Gentry nodded. "Thank you, lieutenant."

Indeed, while the SRG team had been busy making landfall in Verent City the Tangible had assisted Captain Danielsen of the Empire with the deployment of M441 Hornet mines around plausible engagement vectors the Covenant battlegroup was thought to use in a possible attack on the space station. Having been used to great effect in the past the Hornet was nuclear space-mine with a 30 megaton charge fitted into a physical casing no more than one meter in diameter.

Most Covenant commanders were too aggressive or arrogant to spot the mines until it was too late and even with their advanced shielding the technologically superior alien vessel could still risk getting a hole punched right through their hull.

Gentry hoped that the mines wouldn't have to be used however. The post-detonation shockwave was quite powerful in space and there was a high risk of some mines being able of damaging or outright disabling the space station. You didn't need to be a physicist to know that a collapsing space elevator was a bad thing, even more so when most of Verent's civilian population was clustered all around it.

The holographic projector flared to life next to him, revealing Karma's avatar. Gentry raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"The SRG team appear to be locked in a defensive engagement on the surface, though reinforcements from the Empire are rapidly approaching after a brief delay. Covenant battlenet-chatter indicates that all their ground forces are holding steady inside the city limits with few attempts to take more terrain."

"They're either waiting or searching for something," Gentry replied. "They have enough troops and firepower to pummel through the city defenses as is."

Without even asking Gentry turned towards a monitors which immediately zoomed in on Verent City. Parts blocked out by pillars of smoke were replaced by topographical data and building schematics as to not leave out "holes" on the battlefield map. The screen shifted, dividing up UNSC and Covenant lines while also highlighting the SDV-class Heavy Corvette maintaining a fixed position in the skies outside the city behind Covenant lines.

"It's still not moving?" Gentry asked. Karma shook her head- a gesture that Gentry found humorous as Smart AI were known to prefer efficient and fast communication. Anything else- such as mimicing human gestures and body language- were mostly there increase comfort and familiarity.

"No, the SDV heavy Corvette is still holding nine point five kilometers outside of the UNSC kill-zone. Troop- and logistics transports are ferrying back and forth at uneven intervals below radar altitude. Only point-defense weaponry appear active."

Grunting, Captain Gentry shifted focus to another monitor, showing the destruction of the Verent Industrial Zone. Still engulfed in flames the center of the area had been turned to glass, though much of the glassing was obscured by the CAS-class Assault Carrier hanging above the area. Gentry and Danielsen both theorized that the CAS over the industrial zone was the enemy command ship though why the enemy commander had insisted on bringing her below orbit when she could've easily destroyed the UNSC's orbital defenses by herself remained a complete mystery.

Even with the Tangible, Empire, Aggressor and the Prying Eyes in play the local defenders only had access to patrol corvettes and interdiction sloops- used for defense against pirates or to board suspected smugglers. For as long as the engagement remained ground-oriented the UNSC still had good odds at beating back the Covenant- or make them bleed, making it a costly victory for them.

Gentry drummed his fingers against the armrests of his chair as he studied the CAS. "What are you up to..."

* * *
​

Verent City - Covenant Strongpoint

Studying the heresy of the Humans had proven worth the time and effort many times over. Even now, as Raha 'Zuham, Field Marshal of the Fleet of Tremendous Purity, watched as the dirty and bloodied primitive in his hand succumb to the pressure of being strangled Raha knew that the death of this enemy- an officer no less- would give him what he wanted. In truth, he already knew what he needed but if any of the remaining three prisoners were to speak up it would be because of fear.

The man gurgled, his gloved hands harmlessly flapping against the armor of Raha's arm. His eyes bulged further and further and his legs kept kicking back and forth while the rest of the body thrashed around like a wounded animal. To Raha 'Zuham the Humans were exactly that:

Animals. Beasts. Prey.

For as long as he lived he would hunt them, decimate them and conquer them. Their world would burn- for that was the wish of the High Prophets.

Before he could burn this world however he needed to find the artifact left behind by ancient Forerunners- assuming it was not a misplaced artifact stolen by the Human organization known as Oohnnee.

One of the three remaining prisoners cursed at Raha, another begged him to stop and the third- a young female- simply stared at him with pure hatred. Very well.

Applying just a bit more pressured produced a loud pop and Raha felt the man in his grip go limp. One of the prisoners slammed a fist into the concrete floor. Raha released his grip, dropping the now deceased officer onto the floor like a sack of bones.

He turned towards the prisoners and clicked his mandibles. Around him his Sangheili warriors- armed and ready- awaited his next command. Among them however was also a shorty and stubby figure. Zlup, the Unggoy Deacon assigned to the Fleet of Tremendous Purity, stood out in his orange tunic and white robes. Unlike other Unggoy however Zlup was slightly more intelligent or, at the very least, intelligent enough to understand the foul language of the Humans.

Because of that he had been temporarily relieved of any duties of faith and assigned as Raha 'Zuham's personal translator. Raha only understood some words, usually related to military commands, so to have an initiated translator at his side during field interrogations proved imperative to understand the larger, tactical, setting and context.

Glancing at the Unggoy, Raha lifted a finger towards the prisoner in the middle. The same one whom had begged him to stop.

"[I want more information. Otherwise that one dies.]"

Zlup looked at Raha nervously, nodded and turned towards the captives. "Wee wantt moore informatioon. Iff noot, thaatt onne die."

Two of the captives stared Zlup with empty eyes and slumped shoulders. They had already given up. The third one however, the female, began to cackle. It was a horrible sound, though Zlup had informed Raha that the Humans produced the sound when faced with something humorous. The Field Marshal approached the female and lifted her off of the floor with one smooth motion.

Holding her by her armor the stopped, only to rear her teeth at him. It was an odd gesture and looked more like a feeble attempt at intimidation.

"We'll never tell you anything, you fucking hingehead."

Raha clicked his mandibles and narrowed his eyes. Zlup, standing next to him cleared his throat and began to speak.

"[She s-]"

"[I know what she said.]"

He stared at her defiant expression for a few seconds, studying her hateful eyes and the grin across her face. Without a word Raha 'Zuham spun around and hurled her into the pillar behind him, killing the captive instantly. The two remaining enemy soldiers gasped in shock.

"[We're done here,]" Raha said, turning back around. "[Kill them. We shall mobilize deeper into the enemy settlement and continue our search elsewhere.]"

As soon as the orders were spoken two of his warriors ignited their energy blades and struck down the captives. They collapsed, drowning in their own blood. Zlup looked at them both with a horrified expression before turning away, follow the Field Marshal as he walked out of the room.

Together the two of them stepped outside, leaving the large habitat structure formerly used by several Human soldiers as a fallback-position. Unfortunately for them their will to live and die for their planet had proven to be weak and as such the Raha's forces had been able to both storm and seize the structure for themselves with minimal casualties.

As he walked out into the warm afternoon sun he was met with several Sangheili, Unggoy and Kig-Yar warriors were resting, re-arming or awaiting new orders, though most of those present were either rear defense troops or part of Raha 'Zuham's personal escort which numbered to no less than a hundred of the most fierce and loyal soldiers aboard the Devoted Crusader, Raha's flagship.

The bid to seize the planet- Verent as the Humans called it- had been a sudden and minimally planned one. Initially Raha and his specialized fleet was bound to reinforce another Covenant fleet at the frontline but after scouts detected luminary signals on this world the Fleet of Tremendous Purity had been diverted. With the world laying beyond those currently under siege the High Prophets believed that the Humans would be caught off guard, thus limiting their ability to react.

Indeed, the local defense forces were minimal and even if the Humans managed to deploy a fleet of their own Raha and his forces would be long gone by then. As the planet had been unfamiliar to him Raha had ordered Kado 'Vrantak- the Shipmaster appointed to the Devoted Crusader- to glass a vast area filled with primitive Human factories and storage facilities.

Knowing that if the Humans held a Forerunner artifact then they would surely retreat to defend it Raha had not been surprised to see the defenders of this world amass at the planetary capital. With this in mind the Field Marshal would only need to find the correct structure, retrieve the holy artifact and then bombard the city before retreating back into Covenant space.

As he walked across a wide courtyard back to where his Phantom awaited his return a shadow materialized next to him. Had he been back home on Sanghelios or on High Charity he would've suspected an assassin coming for his skull or a rival, vowing to replace him as Kaidon.

In this case however he was joined by the familiar presence of Jarai 'Zuham, a member of his own house and the commander of the Tremendous Purity's Shadow Lance. Created by order of Raha himself the Shadow Lance was a stealth-oriented assault force tasked with locating artifacts for the regular forces of the fleet. Without their ability to blend in and vanish Raha would not be able to scout let alone bypass enemy defenses with such ease.

Raha glanced at Jarai, who was dressed from top to bottom in an advanced stealth harness that covered him completely. He was of strong build and his eyes shared the same green tint as Raha, though the latter would never know if Jarai was one of his sons- for such was the tradition.

"Report," said Raha.

Jarai bowed his head. "As you wish, my Kaidon."

He straightened up and looked forward. "The Huragok reports that it may have located the artifact, though it is still investigating."

Raha clicked his mandibles. "You sound uneasy, Shadow."

Jarai hesitated. "Forgive me, Kaidon, but the location is perilously close to the frontline. Ovo 'Vrasamai was forced to split his forces, hoping that the enemy defenders would be too focused on him to notice the Huragok and its smaller escort. Last we heard he had began to engage the Humans personally."

"On foot?" Raha asked, mandibles flaring. Ovo 'Vrasamai was both a close ally and friend. He was an excellent commander, though at times he forgot just how important he was in keeping the other Sangheili in line for even in war there were politics in play. Even now Raha suspected that at least five of his commanders were plotting his demise- including the Shipmaster of his own flagship.

Shaking his head- a surprisingly Human gesture- Jarai continued; "No, my Kaidon. He is engaging the enemy in his personal Wraith."

Raha clicked his mandibles in response. Even with his skill and training Ovo would eventually need to retreat, lest he would find himself surrounded and killed at the hands of heretics. "Very well," he said. "Muster your lance. We shall reinforce the Huragok immediately. If needed be we shall deploy the Blessed Disciple as well.

Jarai nodded.

"As you wish, my Kaidon."

* * *​

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

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

Rolled: 2

As King targeted and engaged the new arrivals his shots would unfortunately miss, with only one or two actually striking the Brutes spilling out onto the street. One of them roared as a single shot grazed his arm, alerting him to King's whereabouts.

The Brute yelled something unintelligible before raising his Spiker, pointing it up at the roof of E-building.

Rolled: 7

Pressing down the trigger with a big grin the Spiker launched a salvo of no less than five spikes directly at King. Fortunately for King he had great cover, unfortunately one of the spikes decided to ignore that and lodged itself into his left forearm where it immediately stopped. Aside from the shock of being struck by a rifle-sized stapler King would most likely need immediate medical treatment or, if nothing else, a hefty dose of painkillers.

"I've got silverbacks on me, need to leg it!" Owen warned his team over comms as quick as he could.

Owen's retreat did not go unnoticed. While the Brutes were busy ducking into cover one of the Elites spotted the trooper as he rushed back towards cover. He stood up, let out a menacing laugh and trained his plasma rifle right on Owen just as the trooper began to open fire...

Rolled: 7

Only to have his shield and armor get peppered with incoming rifle-fire! Cursing, the Elite collapsed into cover though it was unclear if the alien had perished or if he was merely retreating to tend his wounds.

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

Upstairs Halvarsson was too busy ducking incoming plasma fire to get a clear shot with the rocket launcher cradled in his arms. When Larsen spoke Barnes looked at her with outright disbelief in his eyes.

Rolled: 6

Though somewhere deep inside his thick skull the order made sense to Barnes, which surprisingly translated into the sleazy ComCam-specialist setting down the recorder to pull out his M6G sidearm and prop it up into a nearby firing port. Barnes was a lousy shot but with more lead being thrown in their direction the Covenant forces decided to play it safe, firing shorter bursts and sticking in cover.

At the same time the SRG team and Jones' forces posted at the ground floor opened fire en-masse, spurring those upstairs in the lecture hall to do the same. Down below two troopers- Lyster and Johansen- rushed towards the enemy lines but veered off to the right and into cover behind one of the adjacent buildings.

'In, death-wish, and cover Bassett. I'll follow you.'

Nodding, a wide-eyed Johansen tightened the grip around the weapon in his hands. Thankfully his opaque visor shielded anyone- including Lyster- from witnessing the sheer fear plastered across his face. Even still, an order was an order and the young trooper complied. He moved in a crouched position before rolling over the window frame and into the structure.

After performing a by-the-book tactical roll Johansen raised his weapon and entered a crouched shooting stance. Thankfully the room- a sparsely decorated lobby belonging to a traveling agency- was empty of anyone else. Not waiting for Lyster to follow, Johansen tugged along the wall until he reached a window facing the occupied street. He did a quick glance and noted that several Brutes and Elites had their backs exposed to him in his current position.

Cursing, he took a deep breath and slammed the butt of his rifle through the window.

Rolled: 1

Startling the enemy, Johansen's attack was thwarted before it even began as the sound of breaking glass alerted the Elites and Brutes of his existence. This was good for Owen- but not too good for Johansen as a combination of plasma and spikes scorched and riddled the entire wall before Johansen was even able to fire a shot from his rifle.

Cradling his rifle tightly the ODST dropped down and crawled away from the window before fumbling his rifle into a somewhat acceptable shooting stance.

Inside the E-building Black could only watch as the Covenant infantry prepared to counter the flanking attempt when a familiar voice sounded over TEAMCOM;

"Black, this is Major Mokoena. I'm inbound with the rest of my boys and I brought armored reinforcements. Just hold on for a little while longer, over."

"You better make it quick, we're fighting tanks with sticks and stones here, over!" Replied Black.

DrabberRogue 0stinato Solar Daddy GhastlySquash Worthlessplebian

*
​

Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway

"Not to mention confiscating that bottle whisky tucked away in your bag."

Rolling his eyes, Vic reluctantly reached into his dump pouch and produced a small whiskey bottle. It was covered up in an OD-green canteen holder but anyone holding the bottle would no doubt realized that it was anything but a standard-issue water canteen.

"You'll owe me for that one," Vic said with a gruff tone, half-jokingly.

Just then Staff-Sergeant Gutierrez took a knee behind the two Marines. She eyed the bottle in Grim's hand before looking over at Vic. "You're lucky we're about to go into a firefight, corporal."

She then straightened up and pointed with a gloved hand past the two men and down towards the street. "Friendly vics inbound. Suppressive fire downrange, half a magazine. No grenades. Don't hit the friendlies."

Narrowing her eyes, Gutierrez stared at Vic. "Got it?"

Vic nodded twice. "Yes, ma'am."

Down on the street the growling of engines intensified, signaling the fast-approaching vehicles. Gutierrez silently excused herself to pass along the orders down the line before sprinting back Major Kovac's position.

Alongside the sound of vehicles came the sound of gunfire...

“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.

The convoy of vehicles came barreling down a wide road which laid seemingly abandoned. Far up ahead was a skyway connecting two structures though, doubtfully, nobody on the TRU team was paying much attention to the local architecture currently. Limbo glanced at Cesar as he leaned out, attempting to keep the vehicle steady for him...

Rolled: 8 (!)

Either by chance or divine intervention Cesar's salvo turned out to be short but sweet as several of the shot struck one of the pursuing Ghosts. One of its wings flickered, gave up and sent the driver catapulting into the air as the entire vehicle lost its anti-gravity drive and nosedived. The crash was so sudden that a second Ghost pummeled into the first one, bouncing left into a barrel-roll that ended with an explosive impact into a nearby luxury store.

Ace cheered over the TRU SQUADCOM as the remaining Ghosts were forced to put some distance between themselves and the TRU team. "Hell yeah, boss! That's what you get, alien scum!"

The Ghosts had barely managed to form up when the TRU vehicles drew close to the Skyway. Anyone with keen eyes would now be able to notice various men and women in different fatigues- as well as the arsenal of weapons pointing in one direction.

One of the Elites lifted a finger and widened his mandibles in surprise...

Rolled: 6

Bullets from carbines, assault rifles, two tripod-mounted machine guns and various civilian sporting- and hunting-rifles riddled the enemy Ghosts. One Elite slumped forward in his seat, having been instantly shot dead. Another did his best to avoid the massacre- only to drop onto the ground and skid into a parked sedan as the power supply on his vehicle was disabled, exploding shortly after.

Few Ghosts remained after the salvo and they were now shifting their focus from the withdrawing vehicles to the skyway above.

Brooke-A401, now taking a knee next to Major Kovac, was aiming through the scope of her BR-55 as she spoke;

"Execute."

Immediately and without warning a pair of armored figures leaped out from the edge of two different rooftops on either side of the street. Both landed on two different Ghosts, commandeering the vehicles with extreme force that only a Spartan could summon. Ivar-A332 plunged a forearm-sized combat knife into the throat of his Elite before kicking the alien out of its seat whereas Kane-A262 obliterated his adversary with a point-blank shotgun blast.

Upon witnessing the demise of their allies the remaining Ghosts decelerated, spun around and boosted away from the UNSC forces.

"Pursue them for two blocks then fall back here. Ditch the RAV's on the way," said Brooke. Again two green lights winked on her HUD.

Vic shook his head in disbelief before punching Grim on the arm with a grin on his face. "Sorry bastards don't know what hit 'em."

Calibutcher Grim Wraithe Stjerna

 

[Worthlessplebian]

It was the flying dust, the surging adrenaline, or King suddenly turning incompetent but his aim had been terrible. From that tidal wave of grey fur and grimy sheets of alien metals, Joseph's rifle could only manage to snag one or two shots, hardly enough to be lethal to these blocks of red muscle. His eyes darted down to the corner of his HUD, a grunt escaped him as a finger notched the battle rifle's mag release, dropping the magazine into his waiting left hand. King took the mag to the side, the empty mag stared at him with its bottomless pit.

"Hmph," was his only reply as he reached to his chest pouches to retrieve another. Inserting it into the mag well, King slapped it into place and his thumb reached up to the BR's cocking handle to—

He's flat on his arse, head bouncing off the rooftop's cracked ground. Eyes forcibly blink at the sky, unsure of what had just happened. There is a dryness in his mouth then a hint of sweetness followed by metal acid parching his throat. His torso jumps forward paces ahead of his head. He feels his left arm drag, languidly—almost lifelessly or inert. His head turns to see what has become of it. PAIN, PAIN, PAIN! His mind blares like a fire alarm, neurons flooded with glutamate - the neurotransmitter associated with excitatory sensations such as pain. His eyelids stretch in surprise as he only fully understands what he's just seeing. A superheated rod of foreign material pierced his left forearm! His lips part, vocal chords quivering producing a shrill shriek. Almost as if reality could've been fooled, had he not looked!

Training mixed with generational instincts of self-preservation take hold of him. His right hand grabs then yanks. The heat pierced through his glove, causing him to hiss once more. His right hand grips the elbow, examining the wound again. Cheeks puff then fall beneath the helm, futilely breathing. Like he's blowing air on a tiny burn in a childlish manner. It's cauterized, most of it, but is now target rich for bacterial agents and major liability. His right hand snaps to the right side of his belt, procuring a canister of bio-foam. His thumb flicks the nozzle open then applies to the wound in a circular motion. The aerosolized substance rapidly hardens in response to the open air, sealing the gaping hole in his second favourite drinking arm. He wraps it last.

Still flat-arsed, King looks to the spike - now cooled - with a scorn. A vengeful idea pops into being as he reaches for it and slots it into place on his belt. King crawls over to his rifle. He slips it under his left armpit then sets the cocking handle forward. He steadies it on the rooftop's edge and speaks. "K-King here," a pained tremor and a subtle whimper from his voice over the radio. "Gggrhhh, gonna need-d a medic's opinion later, o-ov-er." He sounds off with gunfire. Hopefully when he ra-ta-ta's this time, the space gorilla's go dead-dead-DEAD!

Viper Actual

 

[GhastlySquash]

Larsen analyzed the results of their suppressive fire and while no Covies were struck, they were taking cover. In it's own way, Larsen had to give it up to Barnes for at least doing something that mattered. Her expectations were usually set low despite an otherwise shiny disposition. Positioning her own rifle, she continued to send short controlled bursts down on the enemy forces.

"Keep it up! We got them pinned, sir!" Larsen shouted back. She was careful with her words. Sure, maybe they didn't understand the human language but if they did, they'd know Larsen's words of excitement would only serve to damage the morale of those being pinned. Hopefully, her message would get across and Halverson would get another shot with his rocket launcher.

 

[0stinato]

A shattering of glass indicated Johansen was following Lyster’s direction: a clattering of spikers and plasma fire indicated Johansen just wasn’t very lucky. Lyster slammed his back to the wall and looked in through the broken window Johansen had entered to see his situation: prone and crawling. Any injuries were not immediately visible.

Lyster’s eyes flicked from the window to the sky as he began to grasp at a new plan. He pictured the scene, a three-dimensional model in his mind. The two B-buildings facing off against each other, divided by the tumultuous stream of Covenant figures, some of which were hairier than others. The E-building behind, containing his allied forces, all at various places on the y-axis. He hoped on the upper floors there were precision weapons to hand: they might just see over the top of some cover and, if the Covies were indeed firing into the newly broken window of the rightmost B-building, they might be standing still enough--

Lyster discarded the thread of thought. None of that was relevant to his own ability to act. So, he homed in on himself. He had one direction, and that was to get in that fucking window with Johansen and do something to increase their defences. The original plan was to retrieve Bassett – preferably not in too many pieces – and to establish an impromptu flank, but both of those goals were moot now.

Whatever move Bassett was going to make in this chess-board of a battlefield, it better be a smart one. Considering the battlefield as he was, Lyster could identify three potential and instantaneous exits from Bassett’s current spot, and two of them were surely suicide. Lyster was not Bassett’s commander, but he was trying to improve their odds by thinking about his positioning too. He had no time to offer a direction or a warning to Bassett, no time to update Bassett on his and Johansen’s current position. The madman was on his own.

And for now, in the new plan he was concocting, Lyster was also alone. He had seconds to act, to somehow set up a defence and either push the enemy back away from that window by a show of force or by stalling them long enough to get Johansen up and fighting.

But... how? That watchword, that pessimism Lyster so commonly foisted on others was being dealt back to him like a hand around his throat. How, how, how. Well...

‘Like this.’

Breathlessly, he growled out the words as he shot forward from his place against the wall, counting the seconds that passed in his head. Just as he did when Bassett had joined on his little two-man show of force under the smoke grenade, he counted his time, knowing Johansen’s life could be over with each second that passed.

Mere feet away, Lyster had identified a jackal, lying dead and dusty on the ground. Arriving at it, he dropped his shotgun, seized its right arm and ripped the deactivated Shield Unit from its wrist. Not sparing a second, he took up his shotgun again and ran back to the window. The Shield Unit was heavy in his left hand as he arrived there. Once again, he was unable to see if Johansen was injured, but he could see that Johansen was alert, trying to keep himself alive.

Lyster tossed the shotgun down towards Johansen while he climbed in, with a shout to accompany his little gift, ‘See ‘em off, I’m on defence! And mind the recoil!’

The moment his boot touched the floor inside the B-building, he activated the Shield Unit. A flare of reddish-pink lit up the immediate area, and Lyster stepped forward to defend Johansen with a grin beneath his visor. Now free of weapons, he was able to use his right arm to help brace against impacts the shield would take while he stood steadfast in position. Through the slim, translucent hues and beyond the shattered window glass, he saw the visages of his enemies, their features contorting with each subtle pulse of energy that coursed from the unit in his fist. He didn’t want to see their faces without the shield protecting him, not this close.


--
Interactions: Viper Actual
Mentions: Solar Daddy

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway​

The Chief Corpsman just shook his head and took the poorly disguised pillage. "I don't owe you shit, corporal, you're lucky I don't report this to Staff Sargeant Gutierrez...." The last of her name trailed away as her shadow loomed over them. "Staff Sargeant." Deamin said in way of greeting the current platoon sargeant.

"You're lucky we're about to go into a firefight, corporal."

Grim suppressed a grin and chuckle, even though he was technically senior to Gutierrez, she was the boss and he would back her. He also knew she could put the fear of God into her Marines.
Following her outstretched hand, looking down the street.

"Friendly vics inbound. Suppressive fire downrange, half a magazine. No grenades. Don't hit the friendlies."

Narrowing her eyes, Gutierrez stared at Vic. "Got it?"

Vic nodded twice. "Yes, ma'am."

With a curt nod the Corpsman lined up his rifle with a small portion of the street, checking angles and getting ready to employ defilade. "Suppressive, half mag, no boom, no blue on blue. Copy Staff-sargeant."
Looking back to Vic with a mischievous grin the Chief slapped the younger Marine on the shoulder. "Let's get these guns talking." By talking he meant one of them would fire short a burst, then the other would fire a short burst. This enabled a constant string of lead without either of them expend too much ammo.

Once the Spartans lept into the fray Grim lifted his trigger finger and watched in a respectfully envious manner at the augmented super soldiers.

"Sorry bastards don't know what hit 'em."

With a shake of his head Grim agreed. "No they didn't." With a practiced ease he checked his magazine and ensured a round was chambered, and he collected any empty mags, snacks and drinks. "Square your kit and gear, I've got a feeling we're gonna have to move quickly."

 

[Solar Daddy]

Well, fuck. Owen was in quite the tricky situation with Covvies all over the street, like cockroaches filling every space with their vile presence. He was currently pinned by the Brute horde ahead of him, with spiker bolts imbedding themselves into the Jersey barrier he hid behind. He hoped it was thick enough to stop the large needles from piercing the cover and jabbing him in the back. He had to hope, since that was all that was left at this point. The Lance Corporal was prepared to make a last stand, to raise his rifle and mow down as many of the hairy bastards as he could, but opportunity struck in the sound of breaking glass. Owen hesitated for just a moment, which was enough for the fire - once directed at him - to instead redirect to a different location. Bassett peeked his head above the barrier to witness the Brutes firing into the entrance of a nearby travel agency, a few tens of meters away. Then, soon after, a Jackal's arm shield lit up the interior... was the Covenant firing on their own men?

But Owen knew better. That crazy brute of a man, Lyster, must've pulled a hail Mary to get his feet out of the mud. Whatever distraction was pulled, Owen needed it dearly, and it was enough for him to feel confident in crossing the distance into the building. Bassett waited until another volley of fire started up before booking it to the nearest entryway into building B2 - a crumbling mess of debris with just enough of a hole in the wall for Owen to slide in with relative efficiency.

Once in, Owen let out a heavy breath. Even someone with a death wish could appreciate being saved. The soldier checked his ammunition, ensured he had no glaring plasma holes in his torso, and stood, ready to regroup with his saviors. He crossed through the interior of the building until he was able to find his way to - who other than - Lyster and Johansen, in sorry shape and in need of extra firepower.

"Let me return the favor, boys." Owen called out as he peeked his rifle around the corner, waiting until Lyster and Johansen were clear of his rifle fire before pulling the trigger. Lyster turned out to be the one who made the shield-play, something that shouldn't have surprised Owen whatsoever. He let out short bursts of his AR, keeping control of the rifle as he was firing from across the room. The last thing he needed was for a stray bullet to hit Lyster as he held up the shield.

 

[Viper Actual]

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

"K-King here," a pained tremor and a subtle whimper from his voice over the radio. "Gggrhhh, gonna need-d a medic's opinion later, o-ov-er." He sounds off with gunfire. Hopefully when he ra-ta-ta's this time, the space gorilla's go dead-dead-DEAD!

As King re-oriented himself to engage once again, though at a reduced speed and efficiency, his BR sounded once more from the roof of E-building.

Rolled: 6

Through sheer determination, skill and grit the ONI operative was able to land several accurate salvos downrange. Distracted by the attempt to flank their position several Elites and Brutes were caught with their rears and sides exposed as King's shots met their targets with deadly accuracy, downing two Brutes and forcing one of the Elites into cover as his shields flatlined.

"Keep it up! We got them pinned, sir!" Larsen shouted back.

Larsen's shouting spurred the rest of the squad upstairs with Barnes swapping his magazine in favor of a fresh one to continue firing whereas the ODSTs and militiamen maintained a steady field of intersecting fire. Halvarsson took the opportunity to enter a crouched firing stance while also carefully taking aim with his rocket launcher.

Rolled: 3

Zagama tapped Halvarsson on the shoulder twice to signify that he was cleared hot but as the broad-shouldered trooper squeezed the trigger nothing happened. A slight puff of sparks and smoke came from the rear of the tubes but there was no ignition.

"Fuck!" Yelled Halvarsson as he returned to cover, switching out the tubes. "It's a dud! I'm reloading!"

Meanwhile the rest of the squad managed to keep the Covenant forces stuck in cover though there appeared to be no casualties from their continuous gunfire.

Lyster tossed the shotgun down towards Johansen while he climbed in, with a shout to accompany his little gift, ‘See ‘em off, I’m on defence! And mind the recoil!’

Glancing to his right, Johansen allowed his rifle to fall and hang by its sling as his shaking hands grabbed the shotgun. He was about to rack it halfway to check the tube when a Brute tumbled through the barred double-doors leading into the building. He growled and roared as he smashed through the flimsy metal-framed glass doors with one hand, clutching a Mauler in the other.

Johansen gasped, tightened the shotgun towards his hip and...

Rolled: 2

Missed the shot completely! An array of lethal shotgun pellets grazed the Brute, nearly causing him to tip over in surprise. He snarled, raised his Mauler and fired just as Lyster stepped into position.

Rolled: 4

The alien weapon sounded twice with its initial salvo being deflected by the energy shield on Lyster's wrist, super-heated metal shards bouncing off of it and shredding the reception wall to the right of Lyster and Johansen. Unfortunately the second shot was much more accurate, grazing Lyster's left thigh as well as Johansen's right shin.

Roaring a third time the Brute readied himself to charge the two troopers in melee when Owen's voice was heard from behind;

"Let me return the favor, boys." Owen called out as he peeked his rifle around the corner, waiting until Lyster and Johansen were clear of his rifle fire before pulling the trigger.

While dangerously close to what counted as the risk-zone of Owen's rifle desperate times called for desperate measures. That, and calculated split-second decisions only logical to a soldier in the field, fighting for their lives.

Rolled: 2

It wasn't accurate- not even close- but the sudden burst of automatic weapons fire made the Brute stumble backwards. He tripped over the door frame and pulled himself into cover behind the far end of the receptionist's desk, a trail of blood leading to his position.

"You better make it quick, we're fighting tanks with sticks and stones here, over!" Replied Black.

"Don't worry," replied Mokoena. "Cavalry's here."

Before Black could ask the major to elaborate he could hear it;

The sound of heavy machinery. Military vehicles approaching- fast. It was the sound of a thunderous choir as both tracked and wheeled vehicles moved in to reinforce the campus area. Deployed alongside Major Mokoena and his elite ODSTs from the orbiting UNSC Empire, a special contingent of armored vehicles from the 84th Armored Support Division, 3rd heavy Weapons Company had finally arrived to support Mokoena and the SRG team.

Commanded by First-Lieutenant Al-Saif- a veteran tank commander with years of experience fighting the Insurrectionists- the armored contingent was a mix of M808B Scorpion MBTs, M35 Cougar IFVs and SP42 Cobras. Surprisingly, as the first Scorpions reached E-building, they were also closely followed by X-24 Armored Personnel Carriers donning the emblem and tan paint scheme of the Verent Militia.

As the Scorpions came into view of the lecture hall they pushed forward into the T-section with one coming in from the left and the other approaching from the right. Immediately they turned their respective turrets to face the Wraith sitting at the Covenant-occupied street and prepared to fire.

Rolled: 1

The first Scorpion opened fire just as the Wraith came into view, though the enemy pilot proved to be much quicker as the alien tank slid to the right. When the second Scorpion came into view it was met by an incoming mortar barrage, forcing the driver to stop and "yank" the tank to the right, rotating on the spot to avoid being hit.

Meanwhile, as the Scorpions readied a second shot each Black, Jones and the others that remained inside the lecture hall perked up as ODSTs poured into the building. Several troopers also appeared out on the street, forming up behind the Scorpions for cover, with multiple precision and anti-vehicle weapons being carried to the frontline.

​

Splaying his mandibles wide in frustration Ovo 'Vrasamai cursed the Humans and their wretched numbers, for there was seemingly no end to the stream of primitive vermin on this world. For a moment his frustration almost got the better of him as it slowly transformed into a careless anger but alas, he would have to retreat for now.

In time these Humans would suffer the same fate as the rest of their kin- and soon. With expert precision and with minimal care for his own cadre of escorting troops Ovo 'Vrasamai used his hull-mounted twin medium plasma cannons to strafe from left and right down onto the road, creating a wall of smoke and dust as debris and fragments of glass, concrete and metal filled the air.

This maneuver proved to be enough to keep the Humans distracted and 'Vrasamai quickly spun around and used his boosters to eject himself from the heat of battle.

Left behind by their commander the remaining Covenant forces quickly scrambled to their feet and fled, with most fleeing through the improvised entrance created by the Brutes. As they left cover to run many of the remaining Elites and Brutes fell. By now the cloud of debris had settled and as such their colorful and rather large silhouettes left them completely exposed in the open.

As the last Brute ran across the street a lucky burst from a BR55 pinged his helmet, causing the helmet to collapse suddenly as blood spurted from a gaping hole on the side of his skull.

Mokoena took a knee next to Black and tapped him on the shoulder. "Like I said," he started, his visor turning transparent to reveal a slight grin. "Don't worry."

Black grunted. "A few more minutes and you wouldn't be grinning as much." He sighed and turned towards the firing port in front of him. "All SRG callsigns sign off and return back to me ASAP."
DrabberRogue GhastlySquash 0stinato Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian

* * *
​

Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway

With a shake of his head Grim agreed. "No they didn't." With a practiced ease he checked his magazine and ensured a round was chambered, and he collected any empty mags, snacks and drinks. "Square your kit and gear, I've got a feeling we're gonna have to move quickly."

Vic nodded and fist-bumped Grim's shoulder. "Yessir," he said with a mocking deep tone. Just as the two Marines finished up the Spartans were spotted down below, jogging in their powered armor with a grace matched only by a gazelle. Corporal Radankovic shook his head and leaned towards Grim. "I'm telling you man, they gotta be fucking cyborgs. No way that's all flesh and blood."

As he spoke the commanding officer of the attached Verent Militia unit- Sergeant Robert Smith- passed them by. He chuckled and spoke aloud; "Cyborgs or not I wouldn't want to be the sorry asshole on the business-end of their rifles."

Smith shrugged. "Or their fists." He walked off towards Major Kovac and Gutierrez, most likely to receive a new set of orders.

Vic fell silent, shook his head once more. "[May God help us all,]" he muttered to himself.

Major Kovac stood up, made a circular motion with his hand and said; "Alright people, let's move out!"

Grim Wraithe Stjerna

* * *
​

Thirty minutes later...

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - Campus Courtyard

Resting like a smoldering and ashen centerpiece surrounded by green the downed Pelican at the campus courtyard had now been turned into a rendezvous for the SRG team, Mokoena's ODSTs and several Marine and Verent Militia volunteers. Wounded and dead had also been collected near the Pelican, awaiting airborne MEDIVAC from several volunteer flights of Army and Verent Constabulary aircraft promising to ferry wounded for as long as they could.

With the Covenant forces in the immediate area holding fast the UNSC forces had been given a breather though as a precaution Lt. Jones and her forces had been ordered to hold the line. Currently Mokoena was busy speaking into an earpiece with his helmet clutched to his hip with Black standing closely by.

The other members of the team had been ordered to stick around with those injured being tended to by medics. Luckily for Black a column of Marine infantry accompanied by members of the Verent Militia had arrived five minutes ago and now soldiers from all groups were either sitting, lying down or slouching near the Pelican on, next to or near equipment crates filled with fresh ammo and MREs or near reinforced water containers.

Covenant air cover was still holding outside the city limits so there was no risk of being exposed in the open though some of the more weary troopers were simply too tired to even think about such matters.

Johansen found himself next to Wendell and Hayworth, all three troopers watching Mokoena pace back and forth as Black stared at him with crossed arms. "That can't be good," said Hayworth. The two other troopers grunted. Johansen stroked his leg, glanced at his now slightly blood-spattered armor but remained silent.

Standing not too far away were Grey, Davis and Tremell. The trio looked as if they were conversing but in reality they were silent, enjoying the peace and calm of not getting shot at.

A few meters away from them were Barnes who was in the middle of attempting to record some of the nearby armored vehicles when the three Spartans that had been with Major Kovac's platoon appeared between two Cobras. "No fucking way," he said. "Larsen, you seeing this?"

His reaction attracted the attention of others and soon enough most of those gathered around the Pelican turned to stare at the heavily armored soldiers. The Spartans walked in silence towards Mokoena and Black, parting way for Major Kovac and Gutierrez. The former was- against his protests- closely followed by Grim, with Grim being followed by Vic.

Grey followed the Spartans with interest. "I thought they'd be taller," she said. Davis grunted. "There are taller ones."

"How'd you know?" Asked Grey, still looking at the Spartans as Marines, ODSTs and others stepped aside.

"Trust me," said Davis.

Black looked up and nodded towards the Spartans and then towards Major Kovac. "Major," he said. Kovac returned the nod with a grunt. "So, where can we help?"

 

[Worthlessplebian]

An almost imperceptible shift had happened as King's rifle bursts took two down Brutes and incapacitated a hingehead's energy shields. The tide of battle was shifting in their favour, further enhanced by the arrival of reinforcements. Ears picked them up first, eyes followed suit. His brown eyes peeked down to confirm his hopes. The sight of twin Scorpions made the injured ONI agent happy even if his teeth are grit harder than volcanic rock. His shallow, quick breaths kept the fire of pain away, least for the moment. He sets aside the battle rifle to watch the two machines of UNSC might in action.

Only to be disappointed harder than sport fans when their favourite team chokes in the final minutes of the game. Two shots from their 90mm M512 smooth bore cannons and they miss! Miss a purple target the length of a school bus with double or triple the width. If King currently didn't possess a penny-ball sized hole in his left forearm, he would clap so sardonically. "God Almighty..." He calls in a pained drawl. "The taxpayers would be..." blue globules shoot pass his head cutting off his derisive joke. He drops back down to catch a second wind.

Time mangled itself. Seconds which should be short elongate while minutes contract. Sweat bleeds into the BDU's layers. His eyes make drawings out of the sky, ignoring the persistent HUD elements in his way. Chest chokes him, feeling heavier than the rifle which laid on him or the plate meant to protect him. Eyelids leaden with tungsten, they almost close. Until a call from their fearless, enigmatic leader jolts him. Cheeks swell with air as he shoots up like a mouse trap. One good hand throws his helmet practically across the rooftop as King dry heaves like he just swallowed cyanide. No such luck. Instead the adrenaline receded from his bloodstream meaning his nerves just started whacking him with pain signals rapid fire. He groans. Maneuvering the sling around his neck, King crawls to his thrown helmet's position. His beard is wet likely condensation from breathing so much or spit when the back of his head smacked against the cement. He slips it on weakly and calls over the radio. "Agent King here." He strings together lined by misery and ache. "Meet you. Soon." He collects himself off the floor. The agent stammered down with laboured breathing and nausea.

----------

King had found himself in the easing arms of a medic, right hand clutching the spike which poked a hole in his left forearm. Stubbornly foregoing the usage of painkillers, the ONI Agent wanted to be back out there as soon as possible. A degree of pride and honour, he says. His father never took the stab and neither will he.

He heard there were Spartans that joined them. He hopes they're better than the scorpions, never let it be said that he wasn't an optimist.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Having escorted Johansen back to friendly forces and finding himself amongst the other troops waiting for their next orders, Owen stood casually with a boot resting back against the fuselage of the downed Pelican. His helmet was stationed on the green metallic body of the transport as well, scuffed and dusty like the rest of his suit. Owen’s head was spotless of debris, only damp due to the day’s exertion. He wiped away a stray bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

Owen spoke openly as most of the others did, passing time until they could get on to the fun part. “How’s the leg? Gonna be even slower at running now, yeah?” Owen jabbed Lyster with a hint of a smile. He wasn’t feeling malicious, but getting a rise from his fellow troops always killed time particularly fast.

Up until three minutes ago, Lyster had been silently staring at the medic who was tending to him, his jaw clenched and fingers gripping his helm which sat beside him. He was hoping the variation between combat and relative quiet would give him time to think, but the pain was dragging him away from any such endeavour. Still, better the medic was extracting now-cooled shrapnel from a minor injury than… well, whatever he’d have to do if the brute’s first shot had hit true. That first shot had shredded a wall, so he wasn’t going to complain about the injury he’d sustained in comparison.

Now free of the rigorous application of gel, gauze and armour patches, he moved away to give the medics more space, ending up sitting within eyeshot of those who had sustained more serious - or lethal - injuries.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to complain. Instead, he repositioned his leg, glanced at Owen with an amused snort, and pulled out a cigarette.

‘I’ll be fast enough when it counts, Bassett,’ he said. He lit the cigarette, took two much-needed drags on it, and exhaled, the smoke taking with it only a fraction of the pain but half of the stress. Glancing at Owen again, he flicked his lighter, offering the flame. ‘Shine for you?’

Owen waved his hand dismissively. “Not for me, thanks. My preferred method of death would be a big plasma hole in my chest, not a slow, cancerous one.” As if the description wasn’t enough, Owen rapped his iconic breastplate twice with a dull thud. Some dust and ash kicked up off the smooth surface from the action. “I will admit though, I’d kill for a drink. Don’t happen to have some gin tucked away do you?”

Turning a raised eyebrow on Bassett, Lyster's expression assumed an exaggerated position of incredulity. 'Sure they spelt your role right? Sure it doesn't begin with a P 'stead of a B? Fuck me.'

He brought his free hand up, pushing his hair back away from his face, then satisfying an itch on his jaw. 'And no, only drink on me is whatever alcohol-based concoction the medic used to sort out my leg. I don't drink. Go out with Johansen later, muse your survival over a fuckin' cocktail or something. Though, given how things went, I probably owe him one, if anything.'

Owen spoke as if the dense insults from Lyster had been just another comment about the weather. “Well, the kid did miss a point-blank kill with that shotty. Good thing you were there to rescue me, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there to rescue you two.”

The finale to the battle played out in Bassett’s head again like a projector against a crumbling concrete wall. Owen hadn’t hesitated even a moment once the brute had ducked into cover behind the kiosk in the travel business. He’d surged forward, closed the gap, and ripped the smoking barrel of the shotgun from Johansen’s grip.

Owen racked the next round fluently, a practiced action, and didn’t think twice as the barrel pressed to the ape’s dome. The monstrous brute no longer had a head in the next second once Bassett had pulled the trigger, splattering the area in alien blood.

Everything happened so quickly that Lyster barely registered Bassett’s movement until it was over. Having sustained many injuries during his time in service, the pain didn’t stun him as it would a rookie, but what did give him pause was needing to reach for the only weapon he could think of in that moment. Having only one free hand, his DMR was out of the question. Instead he reached for his breaching axe, but barely moved a step before he heard the shotgun bark. The encounter had been swiftly ended, and what the breachers held in common now was a chestplate spattered with blood.

Well, that and probably scaring the young Johansen away from their particular specialization.

“Hope Johansen’s not too rattled by getting in close with that monkey. Though, from the looks of it…” Owen motioned to Johansen with a grimace, the soldier shell shocked over by the other wounded. “Doesn’t seem like he’s much too happy with the engagement.”

Lyster side-eyed Johansen as Owen spoke. Whatever effect this whole thing had had on the man, Lyster didn’t know yet. Would it shrink him into a ball, or would it fuel within him a willing, if frightened, fire? One thing was certain though: whatever spark lurked inside him had the ability to roar.

Taking another drag on the cigarette, Lyster weighed up Owen’s words. To balance the disdain he clearly had for Covie souls, he had compassion for the lives of his fellows. ‘Not too happy, but alive. He saved you, you saved him. It’ll sink in, eventually. For now, I’m gonna leave him to Wendell. Say whatever about the others, but Wendell’s got it, you know? He cares. Still, Johansen might benefit from hearing that you do, too.’

“Maybe.” Owen responded curtly, picking his helmet up off the fuselage and wiping some of the grime from its visor. “Sink or swim, Lyster. Sink or swim.” Owen craned his head in the direction of the murmurs, noting the hulking supersoldiers entering the area. Even among a group of highly specialized ODST soldiers, the best of the best, these new players towered over them all, with bulkier armor, and an even angrier visage. “Spartans.” Owen muttered under his breath, deciding it was time to get his helmet back on. He kicked his foot off the Pelican wreckage and grabbed his AR. “Looks like recess is over. Let’s get in on the meeting.” Owen waved his hand to Lyster and closed the short distance between them and the small group consisting of Tremell, Davis and Grey.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Lyster sighed, certainly aware his little rest was coming to an end. The true warriors had arrived, and put into sharp relief how truly fucked Verent was. Seeing Spartans rarely suggested the horizon held any good fortune at all, but Lyster wouldn’t marry himself to pessimism yet. He took one last draught from his cigarette, holding it in his lungs for a moment while Owen gathered himself, and exhaled once the other breacher was on the move. Truthfully, he wasn’t too keen on letting Bassett hear his grunt of pain as he tucked his helm under his arm and stood up; he’d keep his discomfort to himself, and showcase himself as impenetrable otherwise.

He could still walk, and that was the only requirement for going feet first into hell.

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

* * *
Perpetus Office Supplies - 3rd Fl./Skyway​

Corporal Radankovic shook his head and leaned towards Grim. "I'm telling you man, they gotta be fucking cyborgs. No way that's all flesh and blood."

As he spoke the commanding officer of the attached Verent Militia unit- Sergeant Robert Smith- passed them by. He chuckled and spoke aloud; "Cyborgs or not I wouldn't want to be the sorry asshole on the business-end of their rifles." Vic fell silent, shook his head once more. "May God help us all," he muttered to himself.

Grim smirked and half chuckles. "Son, the Almighty is helping us." Chief Corpsman Deamin Black pointedly looks to the Spartans.

Major Kovac stood up, made a circular motion with his hand and said; "Alright people, let's move out!"

"Let's go Marines! Stretcher bearers form up on your litter, and get in the middle of the squad!" Grim called out over the comm. Watching the Marines move into position and started filling out in a loose column. The ambulatory injured carrying those who couldn't or needed help.

* * *
Thirty minutes later...

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - Campus Courtyard​

Grim had been shaking his head fit the first half of the walk, so close to the Major he could have been his shadow. Muttering under his breath as he glanced over his shoulder at Vic. "Shouldn't be walking! Damn the optics! Need to be in a damn hospital!"

As the Major met with Black, Deamin looked around at the mixed group of Marines, ODST, militia, ONI and Law Enforcement Officers, otherwise referred to as L.E.O's, either milling about the downed Pelican, being tended by medics or each other, or what might pass as standing watch on what he assumed was a parameter. Tapping Vic on the shoulder and then pointing with two fingers at the downed Pelican. "Get them to setup a proper CCP and then start a M.A.R.C.H triage." Deamin had been working with and training Vic to be a medic aide to help with Tactical Casualty Combat Care, or TCCC as well as Basic Life Saving treatment. That meant running him through what a Casualty Collection Point was and how to say it up. As for the triage, MARCH (massive hemorrhage, airway, respirations, circulation, head injury/hypothermia) was an acronym used by TCCC-trained individuals to help remember the proper order of treatment, so by setting up the CCP in that order reduced triage time and increased time spent on urgent injuries.

Vic glanced in the direction Grim had pointed at before nodding. Field medicine was nowhere near his forte but for Grim, his platoon mates and for everyone else at the rendezvous he'd do his best to help out.

As far as Major Kovac was concerned Vic agreed, and before he stepped off to grab some other able-bodied soldiers, he placed a hand on Grim's shoulder. "You know how Kovac is, Grim. A fighter to the end. Unless we get rotated back to a nice cozy barracks he's going to insist to remain standing, walking, talking and gunning." Vic shrugged. "Best you can do? Keep him going and make sure he sits ass down to rest for a few minutes." That said the marine departed and grabbed hold of two fellow marines as well as a pair of ODSTs, immediately setting off to set up some triage. Once they were afoot the domino effect kicked in and people with extra water, medical supplies, tarps and more pitched in to help establish a somewhat proper casualty collection point.

Deamin let out a long deep sigh as Vic reminded the Corpsman how their commander was. All he could do was nod and watch his junior Marine head off to setup the CCP. Turning back to the Major, he just shook his head once more and stepped to the Kovac's side, checking his blood pressure, heart rate, O2 and respiration on the mini tablet. "Sir you need to rest, if you're going to ignore my order to take the next MEDIVAC, then sit down and rest." He glanced over to the CCP and saw the flow of injured. In particular one with a bloody spiker projectile in his hand and judging by the blood on his other arm a corresponding hole through his forearm. 'That needs immediate surgical attention.' Looking back the Major and Gonzalez. "Staff Sergeant make sure the Major rests up. I'm headed to the CCP and help with the wounded." Without waiting for a response the Chief Corpsman trotted over and dropped his pack and rifle next to Agent King's cot. "Alright trooper, let's see what we can do about this unauthorized body mod." Giving King a smirk was the Corpsman set about cutting away the fabric and gear on the affected arm. "There are easier and safer ways to lose weight."

--------------------------------------
Collab with: Viper Actual
Interactions: Worthlessplebian

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - Campus Courtyard

“Looks like recess is over. Let’s get in on the meeting.”

As Lyster and Bassett joined the command team so did Tremell, Davis and Grey with all five standing slightly behind Black. Lt. Jones was present as well with a radioman from the Verent Militia trying to appear as unbothered as possible while standing next to the three Spartans who in turn remained at parade rest behind Major Kovac and Staff-Sergeant Gutierrez. Mokoena greeted his Marine opposite with a nod and straightened himself before speaking;

"I just received word from orbit. SIGINT intercepted by both the Empire and Tangible Excuse suggests that the Covenant special forces are preparing to launch an all-out-assault on the Discovery Complex down over at Initiative Street, roughly three blocks from here."

He paused, studying everyone present. "Unfortunately Initiative Street is already under Covenant control with mechanized infantry holding the outer perimeter, supported by ground-based logistics ferrying supplies and manpower from an enemy LZ outside the city to the enemy frontline units."

Before Mokoena could continue a Pelican appeared over at some nearby rooftops, launching a trail of flares behind it before swerving left and gracefully setting down at the edge of the campus courtyard. Immediately several ODSTs and marines rushed over the craft to hand off critically injured personnel to several medics and a crew chief. Once the casualties were safely onboard the craft more or less jumped into the sky before vanishing behind two five-story structures.

"Solution," said Mokoena, regaining the attention of everyone present. "ODSTs from the 211th STB will launch an attack on Initiative Street with support from the 84th Armored Support Division."

Just then one of the reinforcing vehicles- a modified M35 Cougar with a large array of antennae and small dishes plastered all over its top instead of a turret- pulled up near the command group. A compact hatch deployed, revealing a man of Middle-Eastern descent dressed in a olive drab coverall with a large flak jacket ontop and with a bulky helmet on his head. The man was followed by another man in a similar uniform and as they approached Mokoena the first man extended a hand. "Major Mokoena," he said with a thick arabic accent. Most likely from Mesrani.

Mokoena shook his hand and nodded. "First-Lieutenant Al-Saif," he replied. Mokoena then gestured towards the man. "Al-Saif and the rest of the 3rd Heavy Weapons Company will lead our charge into Covenant territory, spearheading the assault with both Scorpions and Cobras before the Covenant can reinforce their entrenched infantry."

"Why do we need all this firepower?" Asked one of the Spartans, a male, judging from his voice. Davis grunted.

"SIGINT suggests that the main target for Operation SWIFT RESOLVE- Field Marshal Raha 'Zuham- will lead the special forces assault on the Discovery Complex. The skyscraper is home to a wide assortment of R&D firms but- more importantly- it is also the home of a covert ONI division nestled safely inside. Coincidentally the target of Operation SHATTERED SKY- Dr. Bernard Kinsley- is currently inside the Discovery Complex based on recent GPS-telemetry and activity from an ONI-issued datapad."

"Slippery bastard," muttered Tremell. Grey gave him a quick glance.

"As both of these objectives hold a TORCH-level priority we will use any and all means to eliminate the Field Marshal and secure the good doctor. That, however, means punching through the Covenant lines while also buying ourselves enough time to finish up and retreat to our own lines. Questions? Anything else?"

"We're gonna need some local firepower to help us reach the complex on our own," said Black. Al-Saif nodded. "I can lend you one of my Sun Devils and I'm sure the Verent Militia would be happy to ferry you in one of their X-24s."

Black nodded. The Sun Devil was a modified Scorpion tank with a twin-linked anti-aircraft weapon instead of a tank gun which had been used to somewhat good effect against entrenched infantry in the past.

Before anyone else could speak up one of the Spartans took a step forward. The soldier removed their helmet, revealing a set of young yet hardened features of a woman with a fair complexion, blue eyes and blonde hair tied into a bun. "Brooke-A401, Dagger Team." She said. Black, Mokoena and several others nodded.

"SIGINT and HUMINT suggests that the Field Marshal has been looking for the ONI complex here in Verent City. As such there's a good chance they'll resume their air campaign once they know for sure they've found the right place- which they will once we come bearing down on them."

Brooke's Spartan compatriots nodded silently. "Once that happens we will have a very limited operations window before our own defense line collapse further. In other words, work fast."

King had found himself in the easing arms of a medic, right hand clutching the spike which poked a hole in his left forearm.

A marine corpsman- identified as 'L. BERTRAM' by the nametape on his chestplate quietly worked on King's forearm when a nearby soldier screamed out in agony. It was the same trooper which had been struck by plasma in the face back over at E-building. Clearly distressed and with enough work to last him for a week the medic offered King an apologetic look before leaving the ONI operative alone for a brief moment until Grim appeared.

Corporal Radankovic appeared next to the corpsman, grimacing at the sight of King's arm. "Need help with that, Grim?"

DrabberRogue GhastlySquash Grim Wraithe Stjerna 0stinato Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian

 

[0stinato]

A good plan always got Lyster’s mind racing. While Mokoena spoke, Lyster, his eyes focused slightly to the left of the Major’s head, pictured the next battleground as best he could without full knowledge of the types and quantity of buildings in the area. He had a rough idea, what with it being a complex and him having just fought within the unique urban landscape that the city had thus far presented, which would suffice.

The swift arrival and departure of the Pelican, followed closely by the appearance of First-Lieutenant Al-Saif was barely a distraction to the scale model he was building in his mind. His only thought upon seeing Al-Saif was silent approval of the helm, on a poetic level; on its own it defined what kind of company he was a part of. Heavy, indeed. The man could probably charge like a bull towards a wall and burst through it without any trouble. Maybe even leave an Al-Saif-shaped cartoon hole afterwards. Lyster’s lips twitched as a very unprofessional grin threatened to make itself known. Well, maybe grinning itself wasn’t unprofessional, but on Lyster’s tatted lips, every smile drew the ire of a commander.

Even if he had grinned, no eyes would have been on him. Everyone was focused on the Spartan - Brooke - who was delivering further intel. Upon her words, Lyster expanded his mental map to include the Covenant ships the squad had seen at their last checkpoint. Hovering, waiting. Those ships would have no trouble closing in on whatever destination across the city the Covenant had a will to destroy. Efficiency in accessing the doctor and preserving the ignorance of their enemy were the easier-said-than-done calls of the mission, by the sounds of it.

Oh, to suffer an enormous brain aneurism and drop dead right here! Alas. The synapses in Lyster’s brain kept ticking over, the neurons humming in well-versed amusement at the visual of him just keeling over, face-first, into the battle-scarred ground.

That thought didn’t make him grin at all. It wasn’t an unusual one to find in his head. Overtly Dubious Suicide Trooper. Gunnery-whatever, A. ‘Lull’ Lyster, PhD, MRE, STFU, um... Esq?

Two of those he didn’t have, another one he wanted, and one of them he should do more often.

Not now, though.

‘Got a few general questions, Major,’ Lyster said. ‘We’d heard word of Hunters in the area, any intel on whether any are gathered at the Complex, and any other forces, weaponry, vehicles to bear in mind? Have we got any tactical maps showing potential sniper spots or ambush locations?’

He was considering whether his shotgun would be the weapon best suited to this next stretch of the mission; depending on the answers he received, he would weigh up whether it would be to his benefit to swap it out.

--
Interactions: Viper Actual

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Bad pain always shambled King's mind. Except every pain is bad for Joseph King though. Since he was a small boy in fact, the agony of his neuron receptors because of genetic factors plagued him deeply. It is one of the reasons why his father never ever wished for his son to join the insurgency against the UEG and UNSC; it was simply too much agony for anyone to bear, both spiritually and physically. And now as he laid on a cot in campus courtyard, which is now holding a lengthy lecture on medicinal sciences and battlefield surgery, he wondered how his father would feel, from heaven or hell, that his son was now serving amongst former enemies.

Beads of salty sweat flaked his brow as he clutched dreaded spike with unyielding strength. His breathing is slow, controlled, and consistent, but his eyes stared with a glassy finish upon them. They wondered through the grieving, aching marines lethargically. Occasionally, they'd look to the marine, a Bertram, who was working on the puncture wound in his arm. Thank God for the existence of medics, especially medics who'd listen since if it was anybody else, then they would've denied his request of avoiding painkillers.

Unfortunately for King, his new favourite person had to leave his side as more demanded his presence. "Damn it," King mouthed irritably. Someone in the brass will pay for this digression, mark this ONI Agent's thoughts. King stewed and fumed under a dark cloud. Leveraging which distaste is greater, the pain or sitting behind a desk? They say the agony of penpushing and paper sorting is greater than anything then why does every general want to sit behind one in a cozy, air conditioned FOB or bridge?

Then as if from nowhere, a wise-cracking buzzcut dropped in and took over King's treatment. "Hmph," King grumbled before answered his observation. "I'm 68 kilos, Doc. My poor mother is fretting over my diet every time I visit her. "Too skinny, too skinny, my handsome boy is too skinny." she always says." He winced as Grim began to work on his wound. "No pain killers, Doc, I took the spike, I can take the stitch." His voice had been tired and dry.

Interactions: Grim Wraithe Stjerna
Mentions: Viper Actual

 

[Solar Daddy]

Owen listened as intently as he could to the speech given primarily by Mokoena but guest starring a few others, including an unhelmed Spartan. Owen didn't possess the attention span to stick with these types of briefings for long; he made sure he listened in for the when, the where, and the how, but the rest fell away into little more than endless droning. Even still, Owen found what Brooke had said to be somewhat interesting. Working on a strict time-table always added that extra rush and urgency to a battlefield. Not only were they intent on securing two HVT's, which was reason enough to be swift, but now the looming threat of death from above was another factor to consider. His team would need to be at their best to find success under the pressure, and Bassett was ready for the fight. His fingers lightly grazed over his burnt chest piece as he listened in on all the questions.

"What I'd give to take a ride up to orbit and just drop down on those fucker's heads." Owen commented under his breath, leaning towards Tremell as he said so. Other than his snarky comment, Owen had nothing further to add. He was ready to see combat once again.

 

[Viper Actual]

‘Got a few general questions, Major,’ Lyster said. ‘We’d heard word of Hunters in the area, any intel on whether any are gathered at the Complex, and any other forces, weaponry, vehicles to bear in mind? Have we got any tactical maps showing potential sniper spots or ambush locations?’

"Precise recon of enemy positions beyond the frontline is scarce," responded Mokoena. "Though I got word from the Verent City Spaceport CP that volunteers from the Verent City Constabulary will provide aerial recon via civilian Hornet-craft outfitted for traffic control duty. Apparently they carry a rather impressive array of high-resolution optical equipment that should be able to detect enemy heat signatures several blocks away."

"That being said, we'll know more once we start hitting the Covenant head-on. It's not optimal in any way but the enemy commander seem to insist on masking the true size of his forces which means we'll spot them once they react to our assault- assuming there are more of course."

Mokoena turned towards Kovac and nodded. "Major did you spot any Hunters during your incursion into the enemy territory?"

Kovac shook his head and grimaced directly after. Gutierrez frowned but remained silent. "No, we did not. We did however move around a large exhibit which was sprawling with Drones and the Spartans-" he gestured towards Brooke, Ivar and Kane "-engaged a group of light cavalry infantry operating from an improvised Covenant command post so we should expect both Buggers and Ghosts to act as the enemy's initial QRF."

Al-Saif grunted in response; "We can handle Ghosts, Wraiths and any other ground vehicles as long as all of you keep their infantry away from us. A single Drone carrying a plasma grenade can mean the death of one of my Scorpion crews which could temporarily halt our advance."

"Don't worry," said one of the Spartans standing behind Brooke. He was still wearing his helmet though as he spoke it tipped forward slightly. "We've done our fair share of exterminating before," he said, possibly smiling as hinted by his tone.

"I'm sure you have, Spartan." Said Al-Saif, gaze lingering on the Spartan's visor for a moment.

"What I'd give to take a ride up to orbit and just drop down on those fucker's heads."

Tremell snorted and nodded, offering Bassett a slight grin. "You said it, brother."

"At least it wouldn't have been a hot drop," chimed Davis. The tall trooper looked at Bassett and Tremell. "If my hunch is right Black will put all of us troopers on vehicle duty once the assault commence. I'm not sure about Hayworth, Wendell or Johansen but I know that you two fine gentlemen recently passed your vehicle re-qualification training."

Davis smiled. "That means you get the honor of crewing any heavy armor Al-Said throws our way. I'm sure as hell not trusting one of the Spooks to hold their own in a tank."

When Grey, who was still standing nearby, glanced at Davis the sergeant shrugged. "No offense, agent."

"None taken," said Grey.

0stinato Solar Daddy

 

[Solar Daddy]

Upon learning his new role in the upcoming battle, Owen couldn't suppress the mile wide grin on his face. Controlling heavy armor on a direct assault of a heavily occupied enemy position? Owen had just gotten his gift from Santa early that year. Alongside Tremell, it was going to be one of the highlights of Owen's career. "What can I say Davis, the ladies love it when you're forklift certified." Bassett chuckled at his own joke while wiping some grime from his helmet. "Put me in a seat and I'll make the Covenant regret bringing their asses to Verent, sir."

Owen had piloted a scorpion in the past rarely, having taken over command of one once the crew was overrun and the front temporarily pushed back. When the frontline once again shifted in their favor, Owen had jumped into the driver's seat and fired off a few rounds before the tank finally succumbed to its damage and wear. This time, he'd be maneuvering it as well as firing the primary weapon, an opportunity Bassett was more than excited for. Of course, this time the tank was a Sun Devil, a different primary weapon than Owen had used in the past, but the excitement still lingered deep in his bones. Heavy weaponry always turned the enemy into purple mist in such a satisfying way. Upon the Spook comment being made, and the almost comedic glance Davis received from Grey, Owen smirked once more. "Hope you like the turret seat, Tremell. I'm grabbing the big gun."

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Corporal Radankovic appeared next to the corpsman, grimacing at the sight of King's arm. "Need help with that, Grim?"

The Corpsman shook his head. "Nah, I think I can manage this one," Looking around he did see the trooper who took plasma and wall to the face and eyes getting treated by one medic. "Though that guy" Nodding towards the trooper. "Is gonna need an assist with cleaning and bandaging." Turning his attention back to King. "Well she's gonna be happy your alive, but not happy you lost more weight." Cutting away more of his uniform sleeve, shaking his head at the request to not use pain management treatment. "Well I can't fully comply with that son, the medigel and biofoam both have mild anesthetic."

King nodded and even chuckled at the medic's humor. "Yea, I guess she will." He replied solemnly. "And I know, I've talked with a pharmacist before, fascinating stuff. But save the stronger, the morphine, the methadone stuff for the rest." The agent weakly shifted his head to the injured troops.

Grim nodded and stripped the last of shredded fabric off the aerated limb, getting a good look at the hole which looked about size of his thumb. Tapping the side of his helmet to start a voice note. "Patient had a spiker round penetrate the left forearm, patient removed the spike, leaving an approximately 22mm through hole. No obvious fractures to the radius or ulna." The Corpsman looked to King. "Next time leave it in, let me take it out." Looking through the hole. "Ok, you'll want to bite down on something, this is gonna hurt." Reaching into his bag pulling a roll of gauze, medigel and a can of biofoam.

"Normally, yea." King agreed with the notion of not yanking out impaled objects. He looked around to grab something, anything. He dropped the spike that had aerated his forearm and undid the knife strap which held his sheath firmly. Placing the sheath in his mouth, the ONI Agent assented to the medic to begin. 'This won't hurt, this won't hurt!' King assured himself, as if he can coax his body into thinking it won't.

With a nod Deamin took the end of the gauze and poked it into the thumb sized hole, then proceeded to pinch a small amount of the gauze and used his thumb to push it into the wound. King would feel the dry, itchy, burning, pressure of the gauze and thumb being forced into his forearm. With the first layer in, the Corpsman placed the applicator tip of the medigel into the wound opening and gave it a generous squirt, following that with more gauze and alternating with medigel; until the whole roll and gel packet were in the wound cavity. "Ok, breathe, almost done." Whether his patient was still conscious was not Grim's immediate concern, he was still reading relatively good heartrate and blood pressure and his chest was still rising and falling at regular intervals. Next came the biofoam, pressing the spray injector into the now filled wound cavity, squeezing the applicator to fill the remaining gaps and space with the beneficial foam. Dropping the can and grabbing a self hardening splint he wrapped it snuggly around the injured extremity and smoothed it out as it set. "Alright trooper, good enough to use it." Reaching out to check the pulse on King's neck and making sure he was conscious, not leaving him until he got positive response from him.

The uninjured paw of Joseph's wrinkled the sheets of his cot. His face contoured into fits of agony, cheeks tightening and lips etched into cruel shapes. The mandible teeth sunk deep into the nylon sheath. The agent's breathing wobbled. Going from calm to quick to calm again and again. His eyes, now rheumy, stared up at the folds. A single inkling of him hoped that his body would release endorphins to counteract this pain, but he'd likely have no such luck. The minor procedure which only lasted minutes stretched too, too long. But he made at the end, a ragged mess of sweat, medigel, and a patch of crimson on his cheeks. "Lifesaver, Medic." The agent thanked the experienced medic. "Give me a moment or two, I'll join Black and the rest of the squad soon."

Grim nodded. "Call me Doc, I'm in the Navy son." He said with a grin and nod. "Alright, you'll probably have a slight numbness and decrease in your grip strength. But you'll be combat effective." Standing and giving the agent a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Hydrate and if you get a fever, hallucinate, or start speaking in tongues give me a call." Packing up his bag and moving to the next Marine.

Interaction: Viper Actual / Worthlessplebian
Collab: Worthlessplebian

 

[0stinato]

Plenty of dry, humourless grins had crossed Lyster’s face today, though the other squad members had had the pleasure of those expressions being masked behind his opaque, battle-ready visor. This time, it was out and exposed to the air as he mused over the intel, his gaze flicking off to the side while he considered the absence of current recon.

‘Dante knew more what he was getting into more than we do now, huh? Well then, goes without saying we’ll need live feeds from those traffic crafts. Last thing we want is an unanticipated beam rifle shot through the windscreen. Though… an anticipated one’d be just as bad, right? Ha!

‘Regardless, while we’re on the move, I’d be glad to interpret those feeds to direct drivers and alert gunners of upcoming threats.’

That would be the optimal positioning of him, Lyster considered. Given current variables, including his weapons and injury, putting his big mouth to work might be the best tactic. They had no time to poke the hornet’s nest to see how it’d respond: they just had to rush through it and improvise. The usual fare.

More eyes, more brains, fewer blind rushes.

And, as someone who often favoured a blind rush, that meant something.

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - Campus Courtyard

"What can I say Davis, the ladies love it when you're forklift certified." Bassett chuckled at his own joke while wiping some grime from his helmet. "Put me in a seat and I'll make the Covenant regret bringing their asses to Verent, sir."

Davis grinned and shook his head. "Is that so?" He gave Bassett a tap on the shoulder while nodding. "I'll keep that in mind next time we're on shore leave."

His expression suddenly hardened, turning into that of a grim-faced superior officer. In reality there may not be anymore shore leaves let alone any downtime, should the war continue to ramp up in its intensity.

The veteran trooper looked at both Bassett and Tremell. "We'll have to be on our A-game for this one, boys. Not just for ourselves but for the rest of the squad, be they Spooks or not."

"Hope you like the turret seat, Tremell. I'm grabbing the big gun."

Tremell nodded in response to Davis. "Can-do, Sarge." He then looked at Owen and nodded once again. "Don't worry, I gotta get my mandatory hours on the M247T either way," he said, referring to the pintle-mounted medium machine gun.

"It's gonna be just like old times, yeah?" Tremell asked with a smile even though he knew fully well that this mission was unlike any other, just like the war itself.

"Though that guy" Nodding towards the trooper. "Is gonna need an assist with cleaning and bandaging."

Radankovic nodded and sprinted off, taking a knee next to the medic already treating the wounded. As far as Grim could see the other medic appreciated the help as Radankovic provided both a pair of extra hands as well as a soothing voice, giving the corpsman some additional space to work with.

‘Dante knew more what he was getting into more than we do now, huh? Well then, goes without saying we’ll need live feeds from those traffic crafts. Last thing we want is an unanticipated beam rifle shot through the windscreen. Though… an anticipated one’d be just as bad, right? Ha!

‘Regardless, while we’re on the move, I’d be glad to interpret those feeds to direct drivers and alert gunners of upcoming threats.’

"Sounds good to me," replied Black, nodding. Some of the others present simply glanced at Lyster after his comment whereas one of the Spartans let out a slight chuckle.

Major Kovac then spoke up; "I'll be joining Mokoena's forces on-foot. We still got some fighting left in us so at the very least we could mop up enemy survivors or set up a fallback position."

Mokoena studied Kovac's wounds, cleared his throat and sighed. "Alright then, let's saddle up."

Everyone assembled nodded or grunted before putting on their helmets and getting to work. Orders were barked out, weapons were loaded and ammunition as well as squad weapons were being brought forward and prepared for the assault that was about to come.

With everyone dispersing Major Kovac sought out Grim and Radankovic, with the Major being closely followed by Gutierrez and Sergeant Smith of the Verent Militia. Upon reaching the corpsman and his truste dnumber two Kovac attempted to clear his throat but instead went into a violent cough. Smith watched on with concern as Gutierrez placed a hand on Kovac's shoulder.

"Major, sir, you don't have to join the assault."

Kovac waved away her hand and- once the coughing ceased- looked up at Grim. "Corpsman, I want you to give me something that can help me go on for another four hours." He glanced at Gutierrez and Smith. "I'm on borrowed time as is and if I'm about to punch my ticket I'll do so on the battlefield on my own terms rather than sitting inside some noisy command-post with my thumb up my ass."

Gutierrez sneered and looked at Grim with a pleading glance. Do something.

It was in vain however with Kovac taking a step forward. "If it makes it any easier for you I could make it an order, son."

Radankovic looked between Kovac and Grim before taking a step forward himself. "I've got some liqour, Major. Effect will be just the same, sorta." He nodded towards Grim. "I think Grim will need all the painkillers he can get."

Kovac looked at Radankovic and nodded. "Yes, you're right. Thank you, corporal." He paused before speaking again; "I want you both with me during the assault. We'll support both the Spooks and Mokoena's forces."

Nearby Barnes nudged at Jackie, nodding at the officers. "What do you think they're saying? Nothing good I bet."

Just then Gutierrez spotted the two of them. "Marines! Grab a weapon, you're coming with us."

Barnes suddenly turned two shades paler.

*

​

Fifteen minutes later...

​

The campus courtyard only served to amplify the roar of engines as several dozen vehicles roared to life. Between Al-Saif's armored column, the vehicles lended to the SRG-team and the much older and dated APCs used by the Verent Militia there weren't much space left for any aircraft to land at let alone space for any additional ground vehicles. In a way the courtyard now resembled a cratered and disorganized parking lot based on the amount of vehicles present.

Sticking out from his commander hatch Al-Saif shook his head and watched the skies carefully. "Thank god for air supremacy," he muttered to himself before turning on his helmet mouthpiece.

"Wolf Actual to all Wolf-elements, commence advance, over."

As the armored vehicles began to move the sight of Scorpions, Cobras and Cougars prompted several nearby troopers to cheer on. The Covenant might have the advantage in space but here, on the ground, UNSC had the armored superiority and between tried and tested equipment as well as veteran crews the defenders of Verent City also had something to lose, spurring them further.

Once the initial lead vehicles were away Al-Saif's command vehicle followed, escorted by Militia APCs providing support in the form of mounted infantry that could easily dismount, envelop and hold around an objective or strategic location. At the same time Mokoena's forces began to advance on foot, intentionally lagging behind to secure a foothold behind the armored vehicles, though some would also be advancing on Warthogs.

Soon enough only the SRG-team remained, currently manning only two vehicles. The lead vehicle would be an M808B2 Sun Devil, manned by Tremell and Bassett, followed by one X-24 FAV- courtesy of the Verent Militia. The Sun Devil had the name Lola inscribed on its hull whereas the X-24 was apparently named Grasshopper.

As Tremell slid into the gunner seat he gave the vehicle a gentle pat. "Let's show us what you got, girl." He glanced over his shoulder to the cockpit and gave Owen a thumbs-up. Meanwhile Wendell and Hayworth jumped on and seated themselves on the rear track pods, hoping to avoid blocking the line of sight of the terrifying main weaponry. Even in their inactive state the two pairs of twin-linked 40mm guns looked intimidating and any veteran of previous engagements with the Innies would immediately recognize the frightening sound of these rapid-firing weapons.

Over at the X-24 Davis- being the only one present to hold a certification on such an older vehicle- strapped himself into the driver's seat. Lyster was seated directly behind him, acting as both crew chief and systems operator with King and Rose manning the two large-caliber turrets on either side of the vehicle.

In the back of the vehicle Black, Grey and Johansen had been slotted into the compact troop compartment. Black looked about as uncomfortable as someone could be after being seated inside a metal coffin but at least it was an armed coffin. He gave Davis and Lyster a nod; "Whenever you're ready. Keep your eyes peeled and ears open, Major Kovac and his marines will take the lead on our end of things, alongside Verent Militia.

Indeed, as Black spoke the final vehicles were preparing to leave, in this case a mixed rapid assault force consisiting of more X-24s and several troop transport Warthogs all packed to the brim with marines and militia soldiers donning mix and matched gear, as well as none other than Grim, Radankovic, Jackie and Barnes with all four being seated in one of the troop hogs.

Davis grunted. "Let's get this show on the road then."

Within moments the SRG vehicles and their escorts were off, kicking up large clouds of dust as they accelerated out of the campus courtyard. Already comms were abuzz with information, ranging from formation adjustments, requests for air support and spotters calling out enemy positions ahead of the convoy. It would soon be joined by weapons fire as Al-Saif's lead vehicles drove straight into the Covenant frontline.

"Wolf 2-1! Enemy mechanized on your two o' clock!"

"Copy, engaging. Firing HEAT."

Similar messages bounced back and forth but would eventually be broken up by new voices entering the channel, including that of a Hornet pilot braving the skies above. "All ground elements, this is Tango Charlie One. I'm on station and ready to relay thermal telemetry, over."

Meanwhile Lyster's headset would crackle as someone attempted to reach him directly. "Phantom Actual, this is Darkstar. We just finished refueling and are ready to coordinate local air support. You will be prioritized- guess someone up top really like you guys. How copy, over?"

Black, who could listen in on what Lyster was hearing but without the ability to respond, tapped the large trooper on his shoulder while nodding. "That's us, we're Phantom Actual. Tell them we need an update from Oracle."

Outside the vehicle lines of ODSTs, Marines and Militia were hugging buildings on both sides of the road as the UNSC vehicles charged forth. Currently neither King nor Rose could see much beyond the occasional wrecked Ghost or smaller groups of Covenant scouts killed in battle. Everything else looked empty. Almost too empty.

Hopefully the ride all the way to the ONI complex would be just as uneventful...

DrabberRogue GhastlySquash Grim Wraithe Stjerna 0stinato Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian

 

[Grim Wraithe Stjerna]

Verent City's School of Applied Technical Sciences - Campus Courtyard

Grim was tucking away the last of the supplies he had managed to 'acquire' from various crates and locations. The medical supplies the militia had managed to bring in helped greatly, especially in the realm of narcotics and pain management drugs.

He had had just enough time to mix up a several injectors of what were unofficially known as 'Combat Cocktails' which help to dull physical pain, sharpen the mind, and ward of exhaustion. While not technically legal, in the field almost every commander looked the other way when an OP or engagement ran longer then planned and the troops needed a pick-me-up.

The Chief Corpsman's shoulders sagged visibly when the Major started coughing in a failed attempt to clear his throat in order to gain the attention of the ranking medical officer in the squad. Turning slowly, letting out a deep sigh, Grim folded his arms over his armored chest.

"Major, sir, you don't have to join the assault."

"Corpsman, I want you to give me something that can help me go on for another four hours." He glanced at Gutierrez and Smith. "I'm on borrowed time as is and if I'm about to punch my ticket I'll do so on the battlefield on my own terms rather than sitting inside some noisy command-post with my thumb up my ass."

'That's also the last place where your injured ass should be!' The thought ran through his mind.

It was in vain however with Kovac taking a step forward. "If it makes it any easier for you I could make it an order, son."

If someone were to look closely at the Corpsman they would have seen his eye twitching at that comment. His right hand slowly, almost casually, dropped to the hilt of his pistol. 'EASIER! I CAN ORDER YOU SIR!' Again the thought shouted in his mind, thinking of all the time, effort, and material used to patch up this pig-headed junior officer with probably less time in service, and now he wanted to waste it all on some honorable and glorious death in battle!

Fortunately Vic stepped in and diverted the situation. Grim's right hand drifted back to chest armor and hooked under the chest plate. "Make it a double-double corporal." He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for only Vic to hear.

Once the orders were issued and the Major was strapped in with an empty magazine loaded into his weapon, there was absolutely no way this Chief Corpsman was giving an intoxicated, barely living man a live weapon. If he was not on the verge of passing out he would be delusional and more likely to cause a friendly fire situation then hit any enemy combatants. "Staff sergeant, Vic, I want you two on either side of the Major. If you can lay him down and let him rest, otherwise keep feeding him empty mags, fire close enough to him he can't tell the difference between his shots and yours." He knew he might be close to overstepping his authority, Gutierrez was technically higher in the chain of command even though he out ranked her, he was also the senior medical representative and that had it's own pull on the chain of command. But he had the squad, the ONI spooks, and now militia and an armored contingent to worry about.

Standing on the edge of the transport hog, leaning out and looking around, doing a hasty head count on his HUD, the Chief slapped the side of the hog and called to the driver. "We're mounted up! Let's get this show on the road!" Over the local squad channel he said: "Lock and load, condition one and weapons free!" Telling the group to load a fresh magazine and chamber a round, remove the safeties, and that they had permission to fire as they saw fit on any target of opportunity. Though at the end of the column he really did not expect to have more then a few targets, if any to fire at.

As the column started moving he tuned into the battle circuit and was impressed with the armored commander and the tight communications discipline he and his men had.

DrabberRogue GhastlySquash Viper Actual 0stinato Solar Daddy Worthlessplebian

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Now stuck with one perforated arm, King actually managed to take it easy, lying on that cot. Since this operation started its been touch and go, touch and go. In his head, he wondered just how long will they be on this wild goose chase for ONI's top secret project. Sometimes those boys in Sec-III are too up their own keister for their own good about things like these. He dropped the spike shard by his bedside as his good arm indignantly swatted counter-arguments his mind devised for Section Three's existence. For all the MJOLNIRs, for all the GUNGNIRs, there's probably more failures behind the thin veneer of black censures and intelligence misdirection. He knows a thing or two, being a Section I Agent himself. But his insight is like that of a shallow pond compared to the true depth that ONI's R&D section is.

He palmed the eyes with the decision that enough was enough, he should seize as much rest as he can before Black and the rest call him back onto the lines.

A nondescript time later, to King's senses anyway, he stood next to the X-24 that he'd soon be boarding. Nursing a stern mien to all the passing marines, it would've helped if the small jabbing pain wasn't still present, chronic pain tends to do that to him. He did see that medic, Doc as he'd like to be called, searing daggers into Major Korvac. It didn't take first aid training or a five year degree in med school to know that this man shouldn't be anywhere near a battlefield. Then again, neither should King with his semi-functional limb but nobody said he wasn't a hypocrite for his judgements.

Once the signal had been given to mount up, King shuffled into his position as the X-24 gunner. He replaced the ODST helm on his head with one hand, making the most minor adjustments with the hand on his wrapped-arm. The sluggish reaction irritated him. It was like his arm had a half-second delay similar to snapping a cloth while holding the centre, that being the rest of his body, and the edges follow shortly after.

The gloved digits wrap around the turret's grips, being aware not to cover the trigger like a private on his first day of rifle training. Once Lyster requested the update, King turned his head over his shoulder to look at the marine. "Well, this is almost Deja Vu worthy, eh, Gunny? Except I'm not driving this time."


Grim Wraithe Stjerna Viper Actual 0stinato DrabberRogue Solar Daddy

 

[0stinato]

Black and Grey in the troop compartment looked like awkward parents forced to endure a rollercoaster ride by their socially anxious, barely teenage son. There they are, sitting knee-to-knee in trepidation, just waiting for it to be over. Obviously, Lyster knew better than to find levity in the misfortunes of two ONI agents. Or at least, that’s what he’d say if questioned about why his gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should have while Black mentioned Oracle. Thank God for an opaque visor.

‘Copy that, Darkstar,’ Lyster replied, trying to keep the amused tone from his voice and failing. Damn, he’d be bad at Poker. ‘Our lucky day, then. We need an update from Oracle, soon as you can, over.’

He looked up as King turned his head, but didn’t respond immediately so as to let his response to Darkstar breathe.

He observed King for the moment he stayed quiet, hoping the spook wouldn’t find his injury too distracting from the task he had ahead of him. Both gunners and their ranges had to be considered. Rose was uninjured, whereas King had a brand new pen holder installed in his arm. King in the previous scuffle had come off worse than Lyster and Johansen put together, and he hadn’t even been playing dangerously. Unlucky fucker had to be counterbalanced somehow. Lyster would make whatever disaster they rode into as smooth as possible for their X-24 and surrounding allies by communicating effectively and prioritising King’s side of the mobile battlefield. Rose’s reflexes and reactions wouldn’t be slowed; the eagle-eyed sniper would provide perfect counterbalance.

Well, probably. You can’t quantify this stuff without it being theory or conjecture, and Lyster knew he was creating the rough composition of a plan just to make himself feel better about this whole out-of-the-frying-pan thing.

They’d all have to sight-read the battlefield; playing by ear was off the table until they knew the full scope of Covenant presence here. Ahead, the other armoured vehicles were already engaging or punching through.

Finally, he chuckled, his gaze resting on King before addressing both him and Rose, ‘You missed a wild ride, Rose. Hope Davis holds it steadier than this lunatic did. Give ‘em hell.’

--
Interactions: Viper Actual DrabberRogue Worthlessplebian
Mentions: Solar Daddy

 

[Solar Daddy]

Owen could imagine no better seats to the show that was about to commence. The terrifying visage of the cannons and knowledge of its pure raw output made the shock trooper near giddy with delight. Putting him in the driver's seat of such a vehicle ensured high casualties and aggressive tactics, assuming a well placed plasma grenade didn't take him and Tremell out of the fight prematurely. Owen positioned himself in the seat with his rifle wedged into the plating beside him and gave the controls a few tugs before turning on the beast of a machine. The loud whir of the engine sparking to life and the constant hum and vibration of the metal around him ensured Owen was fully assimilated into his upcoming role in the battle. Hope you're as ready as I am, Lola.

Bassett responded to Tremell's thumbs-up with his own 'nice' signal, flipping a few notches before radioing in with the rest of the SRG team. "Bassett here. Sun Devil's purring good. Rolling out on your queue, Davis. Tremell and I'll start the show."

Bassett gave the controls a once-over as his mind took in the information; it had been a hot minute since Owen was put in charge of one of these, so he had to do a bit of refamiliarizing before taking off. It didn't take much though, and once given the signal, Bassett confirmed with a quick verbal 'roger' and began lurching the tank forward. He cleared the grounds of the complex and marched on with the rest of the SRG team in tow. The treads easily navigated the cracked roads and piles of debris that littered the path to the ONI site, and soon enough, they started passing live wrecks from Al-Saif's group up ahead already engaging the enemy. Owen kept his head constantly looking at his sides to make sure they hadn't missed any targets. He was ready to fire upon any Covvies needing pacifying.

"Al-Saif's units up ahead seem busy, but I've got nothing so far." He radioed in to the rest of the team. "We're getting close to the front, though. Watch your heads."

 

[Viper Actual]

Verent City - Foundation Street

"WEAPONS FREE!"

The Militia sergeant pointed one hand forward as his squad took up positions alongside the large concrete flowerbed, immediately opening fire on the retreating Covenant forces just on the other side of the crossroad.

Showcasing higher skill and discipline the Elites and Brutes moved from cover to cover while retreating, firing at the militia as they did. Meanwhile the nimble Jackals and the stubby and short Grunts seemed more interested in self-preservation above all else as they either dodged and ducked their way into solid cover or retreated back towards friendly lines in wild panic.

Nearby, to the right of the militia squad, a civilian vehicle collapsed and had all of its windows explode outwards as a Scorpion MBT climbed over it to engage. As it lurched forward the gunner silently engaged any and all visible targets with his machine gun which allowed the driver to calmly adjust and target with the main gun. It fired with a deafening roar, turning both an enemy squad and a storefront behind them into ash and debris.

Similar scenes of destruction were playing out all across the rapidly changing frontline and because of Al-Saif's daring and rapid assault the Covenant ground forces were in wide disarray. UNSC lines had effectively formed into a dagger jutting into Covenant territory with multiple invading forces being rerouted in an attempt to halt the armored assault.

Thankfully the enemy seemed yet aware of the true goal of this assault as the SRG team and its escorts continued to creep forward towards their objective...

*
​

Verent City - Enroute to Discovery Complex, Initiative Street

"Staff sergeant, Vic, I want you two on either side of the Major. If you can lay him down and let him rest, otherwise keep feeding him empty mags, fire close enough to him he can't tell the difference between his shots and yours."​

Sitting next to Grim, Major Kovac looked at the corpsman in silence for several seconds before giving him a firm tap on the shoulder. "Son, I appreciate what you are trying to do but I'm not dumb." He weighed the weapon in his hands before ejecting the empty magazine which was replaced with a loaded one. Despite his injuries Kovac showcased impressive speed in doing so- most likely attributed to training and habit.

Kovac turned away and looked at the passing buildings and lowered his voice; "I know that I won't make it out of here alive. My injuries are too severe, even if allowed myself to be rushed into urgent care."

"When my time comes I will be ready for it- the booze was just to numb the pain a bit, to help me focus." He turned back towards Grim.

"Gutierrez has her orders and now so do you; If you see me making a stand I want you to run the other way. Leave me be and let me make one final sacrifice so that you and everybody else has a chance to live. That, and I want you to help the Spooks with their mission- it's too important to fail and they don't have a medic. Make sure they see through their objective."

"Promise me."

Sitting on the other side of Kovac was Gutierrez. She leaned forward and looked upon Grim with an expression set in stone, nodding as she did.

'Copy that, Darkstar,’ Lyster replied, trying to keep the amused tone from his voice and failing. Damn, he’d be bad at Poker. ‘Our lucky day, then. We need an update from Oracle, soon as you can, over.’​

"Roger," came the initial reply. "Stand by for update, over."

"Well, this is almost Deja Vu worthy, eh, Gunny? Except I'm not driving this time."​

Finally, he chuckled, his gaze resting on King before addressing both him and Rose, ‘You missed a wild ride, Rose. Hope Davis holds it steadier than this lunatic did. Give ‘em hell.’​

Davis turned his head slightly and gave a hearty chuckle. "I'm old, Lyster, but not that old. As long as the road is smooth it'll be a smooth ride. Somewhat."

He then jokingly flapped his arms around. "Which one fires the MAC gun again? Been ages since I drove one of these..."

Back in the troop bay Black smirked briefly and shook his head before returning to his usual cold-and-professional-spook-expression. He glanced at Lyster just as the comms channel with Darkstar crackled to life; "Phantom Actual, Darkstar. New update from Oracle; Target is tracking and holding at the planned position. Maintain current heading and speeding. Expect minimal enemy resistance. Darkstar, out."

"Let's hope 'minimal enemy resistance' entails three or four Grunts," said Grey.

"Al-Saif's units up ahead seem busy, but I've got nothing so far." He radioed in to the rest of the team. "We're getting close to the front, though. Watch your heads."​

The Sun Devil made short work of any obstacle in its path, either crushing it, scooting it out of the way with immense force or by simply rolling right over it. For a vehicle of its size the self-propelled air defense vehicle maintained a rather impressive cruise speed and most Covenant forces in hiding would have a tough time to engage it as it sped past them.

Not that it would prevent anyone from trying.

Tremell nodded in response to Bassett's message. "Yeah, I'm clear too. Nothing but wrecks a-"

Before he could finish his sentence the bright green tracer of a Covenant carbine rifle zipped through the sky and ricocheted off of the thin gun shield covering Tremell's helmeted head and face. Immediately, he turned right and opened fire, letting loose three salvos of armor-piercing machine gun fire.

Roll: 7

The three salvos were short, quick and accurate as evident by the shooter not continuing their attack- either because they were suppressed or because they had been hit. Regardless Tremell yelled "CONTACT RIGHT! BASSETT! SHIFT RIGHT!" over SQUADCOM.

Back inside the APC Davis began to take evasive maneuvers, zig-zagging to avoid any potential attacks heading his way with Kovac's vehicles doing the same. By now the empty streets were slowly begin to look more lively as Covenant soldiers that had taken cover during Al-Saif's charge were now cautiously peeking out from windows, doors and from alleyways or wrecked vehicles on both sides of the street.

Inside the X-24 Black moved his mouthpiece closer to his face while looking past Lyster and Davis out through the wide but slanted APC windshield. "All SRG elements are weapons free! I repeat, weapons free! Davis and Bassett, maintain our current speed! We're not stopping for anyone, got it?"

Davis nodded; "Yessir!"

Behind the X-24 similar orders were issued by Kovac who raised his rifle into a shouldered position with a loud and pained groan. "Weapons free! Shoot any Covenant you see!"

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