User:StoneGhost/Drafts

For Halo: Heroes All.

That Old, Familiar Feeling
Smoke groaned and clutched his throbbing head; for an instant dazed and disoriented, wondering where he was and how he came to be there. In seconds he was alert, pressing his aches to the back of his mind as his soldier's instincts shook him vigorously and took control of his thoughts. Through his pod's viewport, crisscrossed and spiderwebbed with cracks, he saw shadowy figures flitting from side to side and the unmistakable flash of plasma fire. The frantic shouts of fighting and sounds of weapons fire barely penetrated the pod, manifesting themselves like some distant skirmish that did not immediately endanger his life. Michael pulled the lever to the left of his head that activated the hatch release- nothing. Cocking his battle rifle, he raised his knees to his chest and kicked the door with both feet, pulling the lever hard. Explosive bolts blew the hatch off violently, and immediately and relentlessly he was propelled into the fray, torrents of searing plasma fire streaming perilously around and wild-eyed Marines being overwhelmed. The Covenant were coming down a wide street framed with tall buildings on either side; Jackals and Elites cresting a small raised section of the road and snipers raining torrents from above. A bright blue orb sailed through the air and landed at Smoke's feet; he dived away roughly, his armour scraping across the coarse concrete ground.

Grabbing a grenade of his own and keeping his head low, he lobbed it at an Elite, assailing two marines in cover behind a burned-out car. The device engulfed the beast in fire and shrapnel, clearing to reveal it still standing, shields crackling. Michael heard the sound of the air igniting as a Beam rifle shot streaked past his helmet; moving, he levelled his rifle and put two 9.5mm rounds between its mandibles, for a millisecond savouring the wrenching sound it made as it choked on its own throat. A towering orange elite roared and aimed its needle rifle- Smoke lunged behind cover, still catching a shard in his thigh, scything through his armour and tearing at his flesh. Reeling and blinded with pain, he wrenched it out, the seared flesh staunching the bleeding. His leg ignited with pain, he flicked his BR55 into full-auto and showered the Major with rounds that ricocheted angrily off its shields; next to Smoke a marine shouldered an M41 Rocket Launcher and gunned for it; the rocket hit its mark, disintegrating the Elite and showering gore and shrapnel indiscriminately, sending a pair of Grunts and a Jackal to the ground in undignified bloody tangles.

The Marine beside Michael raised his launcher again as an Ultra sent two other troopers down with torrents of plasma fire- the marine fell to the ground in a second- Smoke looked down and saw a making a perfectly round hole smoking where his right eye should have been. He traced the faint blue streak back to the bridge that spanned the road, and saw an enemy attempt to conceal itself.

"You four!" he shouted to the nearest few Marines. "Hold position here, I'm moving into the buildings!"

"Yes sir!" returned the nearest one as he rammed another magazine into his rifle.

Smoke grabbed and pocketed a pair of pistol mags that lay abandoned on the ground and, pulling back his M6's slide, entered one of the empty structures. The automatic door slid smoothly shut behind him, cutting off the sounds of the ongoing firefight. Silence played in Michael's battlehoned ears uneasily, and he moved through the dimly lit first room carefully, hisrifle poised. Smoke moved carefully and silently through the eerie room, stepping over loose fragments of metal and wrecked office equipment. He lined himself up by the door to the next room and, bracing himself, tapped the control panel with his fist. Michael fluidly slid into the room, aiming his weapon and greeted by nothing but overturned office furniture, plasma scorch marks coating the walls and, in the corner, a dead man. The man lay ungracefully with his limbs at odd angles, drenched in blood and with deep cuts covering him. Smoke grimaced, then steeled himself and moved towards the stairwell opposite.

Smoke noticed the faint green glow from across the room, as its sombre gloom had no other light sources. It emanated from the stairwell, to the right and slightly raised, as if from something waiting on the steps. Smoke noted it wasn't blue, ruling out an energy sword. His mind assessed the risk and determined the appropriate course of action. He replaced his rifle on his back and drew his M6 pistol, glad now that he earlier cocked it, for the room was deathly silent and any small sound may alert the foe behind the corner.

He moved very slowly forward, pistol raised to his eyeline, eyes scanning fervently for any sign of movement, ears pricking at the slightest of imperceptible sounds. He told himself to keep his hands loose on the gun, for he would need them to do what he was planning, but his experienced hands kept an unbreakable grip in the pistol's cold bulk. Smoke neared the open door, beyond which was the stairwell, bracing himself.

Smoke flew threw the door and the Jackal loosed a shot in surprise, but he grabbed its shield and threw it down the stairs; it landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom and Smoke jumped on it- it struggled and tried to push him off it, its shield pressed close to its chest; Smoke pressed it down on its neck with all the force he could muster, and listened as the Jackal kept struggling but slowly lost its fight for life. The shield slowly pushed harder and harder into it's neck, but Smoke didn't relent; harder still and it dug into the Jackal's neck, a spurt of arterial blood blossoming from its jugular, and cascading down Smoke's armoured chest like a purple waterfall. Michael looked into its eyes and smiled, as he saw its last thoughts and emotions run through it before they flickered and died; the Jackal convulsed and finally was still.

Smoke picked up its shield and moved up the stairs slowly, anticipating the presence of the snipers above. He inched higher slowly, his eyeline slowly seeing evermore of what was above; he quickly backed down again when two bolts of deadly blue streaked towards him, one a burning deep crater in the metal behind him and the other striking his shield, his body juddering from the force of the impact. Michael raised his borrowed shield and ran towards them as fast as he could; when he was near enough he dived into the first one, knocking it to the ground and sending its rifle tumbling off the bridge. The thing clawed viciously at Smoke's neck and he recoiled, recovering just in time for the second Jackal to raise its Beam Rifle; he levelled his pistol and fired into its face before it had the chance, and put two rounds into the back of the first Jackal, which was retreating after the loss of its weapon. It collapsed, gurgling sounds emanating from deep inside its chest. Smoke resisted the urge to make its last moments more painful as he saw down below the Ultra raise a stricken Marine by the neck and slowly draw a long dagger. Michael dived, grabbed the second Jackal's rifle and drove a shot through the beast's head, leaving a hole clean through it. The Marine collapsed to the floor, in shock, as Smoke looked down at the remaining Marines. He flicked his rifle quickly around him, his sharp mind assessing the situation; from the bridge Michael had a good vantage point of the battlefield.

"All clear!" he shouted, and several marines ran to check the dead and dying. Smoke saw a Marine pick up a biofoam canister from a dead soldier, only to replace it again after he saw it would clearly be empty; its contents poured hurriedly over a massive plasma hole in the marine’s chest. Fuel rod, most likely, Smoke thought, watching the Marine throwing it back down in remorse and sharing his sentiment.

"ODST Second Squad, report in," Michael ordered over the COM, taking the opportunity to regain contact with his squad.

A pause, then a static-laden response. "Sir, we're under heavy fire, Covvies are pushing hard down the main road towards the bridge, can't hold out much longer!" Amelia Dawson replied, shouting to make herself audible over the gunfire. "We're heavily outnumbered, got wounded, need immediate assistance!"

"Copy that!" he replied, and his thoughts turned to the rest of his squad. "Wendy, is anyone else with you? What about Warlock and Church?"

"Got Warlock and Spade here with me! Been trying to raise Church but he’s not responding. Sir, we're in need of immediate backup!"

"Understood, hold out as long as you can!" he said, and her voice vanished from radio. He brought up the drop position of Church and the current one of Wendy on his VISR, trying to work out how to reach them both. But they were in opposite directions- Church deep in Covenant-occupied territory and the other three under fierce assault. Smoke took a moment's pause while he debated what to do. He could go for Nash, Philips and Dawson, but he couldn't just leave Bishop in deep with no one coming for him. Or he could go for Church, but that was the wrong way, back in to Covenant territory...

Movement caught Smoke's eye; he turned and saw its source, observing from the bridge two Wraiths and dozens of infantry advancing down the road. He looked at the Beam Rifle's ammunition dial- enough for seven shots, or thereabouts. Suddenly he knew what to do.

"Marine!" Michael shouted, calling to the senior-most infantryman below him- the one he had just freed from an Elite's grip. "What's your name?"

"Corporal Thomas Carter, sir," the corporal replied, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"What's your current objective?"

"Orders are to hold this position as long as is humanly possible, sir," he said, blood glistening on the side of his face and the front of his armour- not all of it his.

Michael glanced back up the road, the Covenant still out of range, and not likely to spot them until after they crested the raised area of the road. "Your position's just been compromised, soldier," he said, looking down on the Marine check over his remaining men. "You're to fall back to the bridge, rallying troops on the way, and support a squad of ODSTs there. Tell them Smoke sent you. Oh," he said, belatedly retrieving something from a magazine holder on his chest, "Ask for Wendy and give her this." Smoke dropped the object into the Marine's hands, an empty bullet casing with a metal chain through it. The trooper held it up and saw as it caught the light, the word 'WENDY' engraved into it. "She'll understand," Smoke finished assuredly.

"Sir, why can't you give it to her yourself?" asked Carter, confused. "What about you? What are your orders?"

"My orders," he said slowly, almost thoughtfully, "are to fight the Covenant." As the marines moved out, Michael turned around and aimed his Beam Rifle, its alien crosshair resting lightly on the head of a golden armour-clad Elite.

Next Part Preview
Smoke nudged the golden Zealot's head with his boot, shifting its dead bulk slightly and allowing him to stare right down the dark hole tunnelling clean through it. He kicked it in disgust, then moved to inspect the dozen or so other Elite corpses that littered the area. Discarding his spent beam rifle, he returned to the site of the marine's stand, under the bridge where Michael had fired from, now cleaved apart by a plasma mortar. Smoke gathered up ammunition and picked up an assault rifle, stowing it on his back with his battle rifle. Michael checked his VISR for his objective, then moved in its direction, listening for movement over the fires of the two Wraiths' burning hulks. The smell of the residue of the plasma grenades that ruined them hung thickly in the air. Bishop's pod was broadcasting emergency signals from the middle of an area called Brennan Park. Whether Church was there was another thing entirely- he could have been killed on impact, or worse. His pod went down in Covenant territory; if he had any sense he would have got as far away from his drop zone as possible.

Michael's helmet buzzed. "Smoke, its Wendy, respond over."

"Amelia, what's you status?"

"We're currently falling back to the Harbour Bridge, we've got wounded and are low on ammo, Covenant forces are pursuing. There's fifteen of us, six wounded, two critically. No sign of any friendly forces sir. I think we're our own," Amelia lamented. He heard the hopelessness in her normally unwavering voice.

"I've sent reinforcements to your position, about a dozen marines en route," he replied. "And they're rallying more along the way."

Now Smoke heard the quake in her voice replaced by confusion, and a faint tone of irritation. "So you're not coming?"

"No," he said. "I'm going to get Church."

"Oh..." her voice trailing off. Amelia glanced back round at Spade and Warlock, guessing their expressions through their darkened visors. Smoke hadn't written Church off, even if they had. Wendy sighed. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Robson wouldn't come back with Church. Maybe not even himself. But she knew him, and he'd know too.

A salvo of plasma fire raked the team, and Wendy turned to face a Ghost streaking towards them, aiming for the bridge immediately beyond them. She raised her MA5C and fired long from her last mag. Spade unpinned a frag and dashed it ahead of the vehicle, which tried and failed to decelerate; the grenade ensnared the Ghost and its operator in a hail of splintering metal, shredding the Grunt.

"Good kill Spade," she said to Nash, approaching the inactive vehicle. "That'll be a scout for the main force behind us."

"The one we're supposed to be engaging," said Warlock, disgruntled.

"Yeah, well," Wendy retorted, "we're not in much of a position to defend ourselves right now, let alone achieving our objectives."

Hearing a low humming sound, Spade looked up from the conversation and followed a marine's line of sight. A khaki green Pelican sailed between the skyscrapers, its underside scarred with a line of scorch marks from a plasma weapon.

"UNSC infantry, look out below. This sector's being evacuated for regrouping across the harbour, climb aboard."

Amelia looked at the pilot as the Pelican spun, and he set it down. "We need resupply and reinforcements, not evac. Our standing orders are to stop the Covenant at this bridge."

"Copy that," the pilot replied, "I might be able to assist you with that." Seconds later there was a series of crashes as the Pelican dropped six weapons pods where it squatted.

"Marines, Warlock, Spade, load the wounded into the Pelican," Wendy ordered. "We can get them out at least."

The troopers carried the injured soldiers into the dropship's open troop bay, where the crew chief and a medic took over. "You helljumpers did a good thing bringing these men with you," the female crew chief said solemnly. "The best of luck to you."

"We did our best," Warlock said pensively, setting down a heavily wounded and unconscious marine. "And that's what we'll keep doing." Warlock almost tripped on a large black polymer case on the floor of the Pelican, stacked up with numerous others. He unclipped the lid and confirmed its contents; two dozen high explosive charges, just as the print on the side indicated. "Corporal, I'm commandeering this ordnance to stop the Covenant crossing this bridge."

"You're welcome to it," she replied, distracted by helping the medic. "Surplus ordnance. Purely by chance it's onboard."

"Wendy!" he called to Amelia, dragging the crate to the Pelican's edge. "Come and give me a hand with this!"

Wendy came round the Pelican's back, irritated, ending her conversation with the pilot informing her where and how many Covenant he had seen. "Help with what?!" she snapped, her nostrils flaring through her depolarised visor.

Amelia stared at the black crate, with the words 'HIGH EXPLOSIVE' and the serial number of explosive charges printed on the side. Spade lifted out two full crates of assault rifle magazines, while two more marines brought out a battle rifle and sniper ammunition crate each. A third came out with a single AIE-486 Heavy machine gun, its folded tripod slung over his shoulder, dragging a crate of four ammunition drums behind him.

"Jackpot."

The Pelican lifted off, carrying the wounded and leaving behind nine well supplied infantry, three ODSTs and six Marines. Two troopers had grabbed rocket launchers, and Amelia and Spade both shouldered sniper rifles.

"Alright, lets get this position defensible!" Wendy ordered. Four marines set up defences in the form of metal weapon barricades and sandbag walls, while two deployed the heavy machine gun. Warlock set up the ammunition crates and readied medical supplies, while directing the twelve marines. Amelia and Spade took position in two buildings overlooking the area on either side of the road, preparing their plentiful magazines. Three marines planted remote detonation charges in the enemy's path, while another three rigged charges to the bridge. The whole defence took forty minutes to set up.

"Sir, got movement, thirty metres  northeast!" a marine called to Amelia over the radio.

Wendy checked her motion sensors, seeing dozens of grey unidentified targets moving towards them.

"Confirmed, twenty plus contacts, unknown type! Ready on the guns!" she barked.

Warlock watched the twenty or so grey dots draw nearer and nearer, approaching the corner at which they all aimed. A second before they rounded the corner his motion sensor caught his eye- the dots turned yellow.

"Hold your fire! Targets are friendly, repeat targets are friendly!, stand down." Warlock broadcasted to his allies.

Amelia kept her rifle levelled at the corner, though loosened her squeeze on the trigger. The first marine rounded the corner, looking tense and beleaguered.

"Hey, over here!" Warlock shouted from behind the barricades, and the new marines headed in their direction. "Marines, what's your objective?"

"Our orders are to rendezvous with the troopers at the bridge," the leading marine called. "That's you lot, I'm assuming."

"Smoke's help," said Amelia quietly, as she looked down on the reinforcements from her sniper's nest through a smashed window. "How was he when you last saw him? What did he say?"

"He had just saved my ass from an Elite," he said, feeling his neck uneasily. "May I assume you're Wendy?"

Wendy frowned under her visor, invisible. "Yeah, that's me. Who's asking?"

"Sergeant Thomas Carter, Bravo Company 35th Marines. Gunnery Sergeant Robson gave me something for you."

He produced some small item from a waist pouch, and slung it up to her. She snapped it from the air and, holding it so that the object dangled from her upraised hand, leveled it with her eyes. The 12.7x99mm casing swung from side to side from its metal chain, the word 'WENDY' engraved into it; carved roughly with a combat knife years ago. Her steely blue eyes followed its sway, reading into what it meant. Memories deep inside her bursting to the fore. Raw emotion not felt for seven years. And a token from the past that she didn't think existed anymore. She remembered the first time she met Smoke; sniper practice in which he outdid her. How him and the other men made fun of her for being female. How they called her Wendy. How she threw her spent casings at them in a wild fit of rage, only to get them all back the day later, every one with 'WENDY' carved carefully into the side. She remembered how she scattered them all from the back of a Pelican, never to be seen again. She remembered the engraved bullet casing he gave her back, one he had kept. And the passionate kiss they shared under cover of darkness.

All of these memories and emotions flooded her mind in an instant. Amelia stood stock still, barely registering anything but her own thoughts slowly lowering her outstretched arm.

Smoke.