User:Pikapi/Losing Hope

Chapter 1
Everything was calm for an instant. Silent, pitch black. To an outsider, this scene could have been misinterpreted as peacefulness and serenity. The individuals who were a part of it new better. Lurking in this dark were some thirty human souls. What they all were before this instant was irrelevant at this point. What defined them was that they were all on the same platform. In the silence, they could feel the courage, fear, and other primal instincts running through each others pulsing veins as though they were all interconnected. In a sense, the emotional bonds they shared was a beautiful thing, but still, the tension was so thick that any one of them could have cut at it with the combat knives they had holstered against their uniforms. They all had one thought on their mind: that this was surely the quiet before the storm, and from what they could gather, one hell of a storm was brewing.

Without as much as a signal, the soft humming of engines rose slowly, yet steadily, like an ominous chorus. Then, like in the mythical story of Genesis, light flooded into the empty blackness. A tremendous breeze carried itself through like water a second after it had overflowed a dam. The calmness was irreversibly broken.

They were being lowered into the storm.

The engines of aircraft were already blaring, and impossible to ignore. The people already on the scene rushed over to their places, their feet scurrying as though it was a game of musical chairs that their lives depended on. Three pairs of feet stood out. Where others swept across the ground making little to no noise, they impacted the platform like plates of heavy metal colliding. These were the feet of the Spartans, giants clad in thick-layers of armor. Although proportionate to the other members of the group, they were clearly larger and more powerful in every way. They stood out from the rest of the crowd like sore thumbs. Out of politeness, they stood guard, encircling the perimeter of the lowering platform to ensure that there were no accidents.

The light was also an issue, those protected by visors didn't have to squint, however, all of them needed a second to adjust to the light, including the Spartans. When the platform came to an abrupt and bumpy halt, and the soldiers felt that they had thoroughly adjusted themselves to the torrential winds, they prepared to peer out into the expanse beyond their little platform, frightened at the the scene that might roll out before their very eyes. They were greeted by a beige, dirt and dust-infused sky. Then came the scare they tried so hard to prepare for. Purple and blue streaks of light shooting across the sky, and equally frightening chunks of flaming debris falling in every direction. They had all seen this before, only previous times, they had witnessed these aerial battles from a safe distance. Now they were all about to become part of the action, and an unlucky few were destined to become the next victims.

The Covenant always had the unfair advantage in the air. The Spartans, however, stared head-on with not as much fear as an undying lust for vengeance. The human population was still far from annihilation, but the Spartans knew very well that they were a dying breed. For all they knew, they were the only Spartans left, or at least to have endured the masacre that had just occurred on Reach. Their teams were no more, but they were still standing, and they were not going to rest until their enemies in this genocidal campaign, the Covenant Empire, was neutralized.

"SPARTAN-123, SPARTAN-B311, and SPARTAN-G231." a voice began over their communications.

"I don't know anything about any of you. I never thought of Spartans as anything more than a myth up until now, but if the things I've heard about you are true... god, you might be all humanity's got left up its sleeve. This is a tricky maneuver I'm pulling here, delivering you right into the midst of enemy territory. There is no doubt in my mind that