[C-Deck] Who's There?

[Durant, M.]

1900 Hours, May 1, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Aboard UNSC Templar, C-Deck,
En route to the hangar bays

Second Squad marched down the ladderwell, among the the Platoon Sergeant, Gunnery Sergeant Cruz. The first two fire teams secured the landing immediately while Sergeant Mason went to work on the forward bulkhead. A map of the area downloaded to his HUD thanks to the Lieutenant, with a,course highlighted to the hangar area.

There were hangar bays on each side of the ship. Those on the port side were labeled C-1 through 6, while those on the starboard side where labeled 7 through 12. The map did not state whether or not the hangars were in any condition to land troops, nor did it mention whether or not they contained atmosphere. As far as he could tell, however, any hangar would do.

Managing to work his magic, the bulkhead opened to reveal a thoroughly wartorn corridor. The amount of viscera was horrendous. Bodies were strewn from one side of the corridor to the other, and blood coated the walls and floor. It had all long dried, but it was still a disturbing sight to bare witness to.

It was obvious terrible things had happened here.

[Deleted]

Vlad moved with his unit. He was on his first mission with his new team, and so far he seemed to be the middle of the pack in terms of experience. There were fresh faces in their ranks and there were hardened veterans whom had been in since first contact. He swallowed some spit that had gathered in his mouth, the rancid taste of the cyro nutrients was still strong in his mouth, but he was used to the taste by now. As he moved down the stairwell, his mind wandered to how his life had been since he was “convinced” to enlist three years earlier. He thought of Earth and how everything was so different out here, but yet it was almost the exact same. Save for the whole Covenant army trying to kill everyone thing.

But this was why he was out here, to prevent them from ever reaching Earth however it needed to be done. Even if it meant occasionally having to fight some insurrectionists, even though fighting them was few and far between. His mind just kept going, it stopped at the memory he had of watching the Covenant ship start to glass Kholo. He kept his mind on the men he had watched die there until a ping in his helmet caused him to return to the present. He tapped his visor as the map of the Hanger Deck showed up in his vision. His eyes glanced over the map as he studied it, committing it to memory in case he didn’t have time to look at it again.

“It’d be nice if the map could tell us which hangers weren’t going to space us.”

“At least we have a map Dunn. Charlie team, form wedge and face six.”

Vlad stopped with his team at the base of the stairs and turned around with their rifles at the ready while Mason worked on opening the bulkhead. Vlad waited patiently, but could tell that this was going to be a disturbing mission. He had expected to find a completely ship, but the looks of the battle markings on the walls would mean that there weren’t many, if any survivors. Hell they hadn’t even found a body yet, something that he was grateful for, but almost making him more and more suspicious as time passed. He was about to ask about the bulkhead when he heard it open and turned long enough to see the carnage that ensued in the corridor. Vlad saw how tight the corridor was and reached back for his shotgun. It was the same M90 CAWS Mk. 1 that had been handed to him on Kholo. He had used it to kill a few aliens, so he trusted this shotgun more than the MA5C he held in his hands. At least his MA5C had a M301 attachment this time, which was nice to have.

If this was his armament on his first op then he might like Oscar Company better than Zulu Company back on the Leviathan, who was always running low on one thing or another, more often than not though, they were lowest on ammo due to the consistency of their missions and how long those mission lasted. He suddenly heard a sound next to him coming from his Point, Duplass. He reached over and patted him on his back as he looked between Gunny Cruz and Sergeant Mason awaiting orders. If whatever had done that was still on this ship then their lives were about to get very interesting.

[Mason, I.]

Mason examined the bodies as he moved toward the middle of the corridor. His squad made quick to secure the area. It seemed that these bodies were far too disfigured to understand what exactly had taken place. The only thing that was for certain was that the dead stood little chance while they were still living.

Mason knelt down next to one body in specific. It was slightly less torn up than the others. The head was half missing, with bits and pieces of the CNS spilling onto the ground where the marine apparently fell back. He could imagine sweet smelling cerebrospinal fluid mixing with coagulating blood and rotting flesh. It was the smell of a battlefield after the battle was a day past. Plenty of men feared this smell almost as much as they feared battle. However, not because of the intensity of how foul it was - but because what it was.

He scanned carefully down the rest of the marine’s body, looking for clue to what had transpired. A large laceration ran down the chest, abdomen, and eventually ended at the genital region. A severed arm was laying about ten feet from the body as well. This body shed some light for Mason, but not enough to make any certain judgements; so he stood up and moved past. As he did, he took one last look at the body, ”she won’t be having kids anytime soon.” he muttered sarcastically.

He looked around at the doors; a few of them seemed to be marked up pretty good and would probably be tricky to get open. He noted Corporal Mstislav kneeling near the hangar doors leading to the first bay. ”Corporal Mstislav, let’s find out what we win behind door number one,” Isaiah said with a point to the doors. Second squad got ready for the doors to be opened.


Isaiah glanced around at his men. Whatever jitters they had on the ride over, were long gone. Whatever fears they may have had, if any, were at the back of their minds. A build of tense anticipation filled the room; they were all waiting to see if door number one would reveal the cause of this massacre.

[Cruz, J.]

Cruz examined the bodies of several of the dead Marines as soon as the bulkhead had opened. It was odd that most of the small arms fire was directed all around the area instead of toward just one area. It appeared that Mason was looking around as well and had his own suspicions. One body in particular seemed to be out of place as far as wounds were concerned. Seeing that pushed Cruz into action for his suspicions were confirmed. Opening a private channel to both Durant and Killinger, Cruz quickly starts ”Major, LT; we got a –“ but he was cut off by pure static.

The jammer had effectively cut them off from the rest of the platoon. This meant that it was meant for more than just long range comms. ”Second squad secure your EVA masks and make sure your weapons are fully loaded and hot. Comms with First are down and we are in the middle of a hatchery so to speak. Keep your eyes peeled and everyone watch each other’s backs. We need to get Third in here as soon as fucking possible.” He hoped that first squad hadn’t already encountered the true threat. He didn’t know how many there were, since they wouldn’t need nearly as many troops to take the TEMPLAR as most other ships.

The only question left was; how did they know where the TEMPLAR would be? They wouldn’t have unless they had some serious intel that could only come from someone in ONI themselves.

_

Acting on the Gunnery Sergeant’s orders, the entirety of Second Squad re-secured their EVA equipment as well as double checked their weapons. The greener members of the squad looked nervous sinc e the Gunnery Sergeant appeared to be uneasy about something. The veteran members of the squad, those who knew the Gunny’s demeanors, steeled themselves for what was to come. They knew that he knew there was more to meet the eye. He hadn’t stated it yet and that was what unnerved them most of all.

When he did state his thoughts, that’s when everyone froze. As the Gunnery Sergeant stepped toward the hanger door he had a steely look on his face and a fire of hatred burning in his eyes. ”Lads, it’s the Covenant.” was all he said as he hit the button to oopen the door.

Inside the hanger looked like a battlefield that you would normally see on a planet, except in zero G. Coagulated blood floated through the air as well as spent shell casings. The control panel for the hanger doors were to the squads left inside a control room that was by far the most decimated area in the hanger itself. As Second Squad fanned out and set up a makeshift perimeter, Gunny Cruz ran for the control room hoping that it was still operational.

Thankfully there was a small red light flashing to signify the button that would open the hanger bay for ships to land. Without thinking the man literally punched the button. Seconds later the doors opened to reveal Third Squad’s pelican hovering in front of the doors. ”You hae five seonds to land and disembark Third, we have the Covenant here and comms with First are being jammed.” Cruz spat out as the Pelican entered Hanger 1.

Before anybody could react or blink two rockets hit the pelican. One cut through the left wing causing it to go flying through zero G and cutting Lance Corporal Purna and PFC Duplass in half. The second ropcket hit the engine disabling the shiop even further. The Pelican banked hard to the right and collided with with the bulkhead, flattening the cockpit upon impact. The rear hatch was blown completely off and several members from Third Squad were visibly dead.

Moments later the gunfire erupted from all over the room as Spec Ops Ranger Elites appeared out of thin air.

[Mason, I.]

“Sangheili!” Mason shouted as they materialized out of thin air.

The eruption of gunfire was sudden and intense - echoes reverberating harshly off of the metallic walls.

This was a worst case scenario for second squad. The Sangheili Rangers were brilliant masters when it came to low gravity combat - and close quarters was their speciality. Their extremely high mobility proved to be a tough match for any and all opponents. This was the exact reason the Covenant used them so sparingly. They were an ace up the sleeve for special warfare missions, like this one.



Mason knew, despite the odds, that he had personally drilled his squad endlessly on this exact type of situation - a close quarters ambush. They had a better chance than most. And even though Mason would never say so himself, he was an ingenious tactician when it came squad-sized battle strategy. He just hoped his training and teachings rubbed off on the rest of his squad - a marine can’t give orders clearly when he’s too busy fending off freaks of nature.



Without even having to mutter a word, Rio and his fire team were making haste towards the downed pelican. The other two fire team leaders were instinctively leading their marines as well.

Mason was going to make his way towards Cruz, but an elite appeared right next to him. These beasts knew every aspect of obtaining an advantage and keeping it - this one specifically positioned himself to prevent Isaiah from bringing his rifle around. The Elite slapped the rifle barrel down before Mason could draw it up. It was a jacked up situation for Omen 2-2. This wasn’t his first up close encounter of the sort - he instinctively dropped his trigger hand down to his pistol and pulled it out of the holster. His assailant was one step ahead of him, ripping the pistol from Mason’s grip with his off hand while simultaneously bringing up a needler in his other.

The Sergeant knew the key to situations like this one was for there to be no hesitation. There is no time to think about what to do next, simply react and flow - let the body instinctively fight. Such as it is in grappling; a fighter must always be moving and advancing to the next step until he or she can finish the fight. With one such as this - Isaiah’s goal was to attack a weak spot in the Elite’s armor; which is just what he did.

Mason ducked under the needler as the beast brought it to his head; narrowly escaping three fatal round. Isaiah planted his left foot onto the Elite’s left as he rebounded up from ducking. With one swift move, the aging veteran catapulted himself up onto the Ranger’s back and unsheathed his fixed blade knife. The Elite’s high mobility and strength ending up being his curse - he plunged backwards in attempt to smash Mason into the wall behind him. Mason expected this type of chaotic response and was ready. He aligned the handle of the knife to hit the wall and drive the piercing tanto style blade directly into the spine. Instantly the Covenant warrior became limp and slid down the wall. The entire exchange between the two took less than four seconds.

Mason gave a tug and his knife reluctantly slid out - the dead Elite spasming as it did. Mason quickly sheathed the knife, picked up his pistol, stuck his rifle to his armor, grabbed the dead Elite's needler, and began engaging more Covenant as he made his way towards the platoon sergeant. Needlers were the perfect weapon against these enemies.

[Durant, M.]

The battle in the hangar had just begun. The Marines of Second Squad rallied, having trained for just such a scenario thanks to the leadership of Sergeant Mason. However, that was training, and this was the real thing.

Meanwhile, the Marines of Third Squad had had it rough. The crash landing had left everyone jarred, and according to Sergeant Willowbay's assistant squad leader, there were a few Marines knocked unconscious. Willowbay barked orders at those still conscious and started on his way out the blood tray, only to retreat back inside as a hail of mixed gunfire - plasma and a variety of human weapons wielded by the enemy - crashed against the hull of the downed aircraft. He fired off several controlled semi-automatic bursts with his BR55, and keyed his headset. "Oman Two-Two, this is Two-Three. We're pinned down, taking heavy fire! Over."

Before Sergeant Mason or Gunnery Sergeant Cruz could muster a response, a glowing orb landed on the floor in the midst of the Marines. "GRENADE!" someone screamed as the plasma grenade began to shine brighter, becoming its own source of light in the room.

Mistislav, realizing that there would not be any time for anybody to escape the blast radius, made a split-second decision. Turning on his heel, he propelled himself onto the grenade and shouted for everyone to get back. A second later, the grenade exploded in a brilliant flashed of blue and white, mixed with crimson blood as the young Marine was flash vaporized by the blast.

Dunn, whom had witnessed the whole thing, exclaimed, "Man down! Mstislav's gone!" Plasma exploded at his feet, reminding him that at the moment there were more pressing matters to attend to. There would be time to mourn the dead later. Right now, he and everyone else had to keep themselves from joining them.

[Bukar, O.]

The interior of Hangar C-2 was a mess. The walls were pockmarked by bullet impacts, crates were carelessly strewn about or torn open, their contents spilled out on the floor, and there were quite a few discernably alien bodied sprawled about in pools of multi-colored blood. Off along the port side near one of the landing pads was a tall, slim device made out of the characteristic purple metal of Covenant design. Huddled beside it, adorned in the infamous obsidian armor of the Marine Corps' elite Orbital Drop Shock Troopers - their faces masked behind opaque midnight blue visors - were two men.

Gunnery Sergeant Omar "Gravedigger" Bukar knelt beside the Covenant jamming device, his silenced MA2B at the ready as he scanned for further targets. His partner, callsign Brutus, was hard at work rigging explosives to the hammer in order to knock it out. They'd had to clear the hangar of the Covenant guarding it, but that hadn't been much of a challenge. Even these Covenant, whom appeared to be rather experienced in zero-g combat, hadn't expected an attack from above. The skirmish had been over as quickly as it had begun, and the two had confidently sauntered their way over to their objective.

As Bukar covered the demolitionist, his mind reviewed the events of the last two weeks. The price for the Captain's overzealousness had been heavy, to be sure. No sooner had the Templar exited slipspace were they ambushed by the Covenant. The aliens had managed to board the ship, and the resultant fighting had been brutal.

Most of the crew had been wiped out in the span of an hour. Those that hadn't - mostly members of Crusader Four, an ONI Section-III Beta-5 Assymetrical Action Group assigned as added security aboard the ship - began a protracted operation to rid the ship of the borders and finish initiating Cole Protocol.

Captain Francois, the ONI Spook in charge of the squad, hadn't lasted very long after ordering an assault on the bridge. The plan had been a decent one, but no one could have imagined how heavily fortified the Covenant's position on the way to the bridge. Casualties were heavy, to include the Captain himself, and Master Sergeant Baldwin had ordered for the squad to pull back.

From there, the Beta-5 operators launched a series of guerrilla strikes against the Covenant. Having had the time to learn the intricasies of the ship's design, the Helljumpers made use of the maintenance sub-levels to get the drop on their enemy. However, that only seemed to work for about five days before the Covenant had learned their tactics.

Master Sergeant Baldwin was killed and the reigns of leadership had fallen on Bukar, as the next-in-line in the chain-of-command. By then there were only a handful of men left, and it wasn't long before the Covenant started to actively search for them in hopes of squashing what resistance was left. He didn't know why they hadn't simply left yet. They could have easily just returned to their ship and reduced the Templar to floating space debris; but, it seemed their plans had not yet been finished.

Two days ago the Covenant had found the Helljumper's hide. The assault had killed off everyone except himself and Brutus, and they had been forced to flee into the sub-levels, playing a game of cat and mouse with the alien occupiers. So far they'd managed to evade them and hadn't walked themselves into an ambush.

But, that's mostly because they stopped using the sub-levels and started navigating the ship via the ventilation. In fact, that's how they had managed to sneak into the hangar undetected and attack them from above. Bukar had suggested to his partner, whom had been the leader of Charlie Team before they'd all been killed, to try and take out the jammer when they started picking up garbled short-range transmissions on the COMMs. If a rescue party had arrived, he wanted to be able to get in communication with them and warn them about the Covenant that were on board.

Bukar turned to his partner, coming out of his reverie, and was about to say something when the deck quaked beneath their feet, nearly causing him to collapse to the floor. The muffled sound of an explosion and something big scraping against deck plates seized his attention.

"What in the name of God was that?!" Bukar thought aloud, his voice deep and somewhat gravelly, with a distinctly North African accent underlying it.

Brutus said something that went in one ear and out the other as he looked toward the wall to his right, which seemed to have been the source of the commotion. The racket of weapons fire could be heard, sounding distant yet close at the same time. "It must be coming from C-1," he decided. "Hurry up with the charges so we can move out. Someone might need our help."

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant stormed down the steps with his rifle at the ready as the ruckus from Hangar C-1 reached his ears. Major Killinger, Private Wilkas, and the Marines of First Squad trailed not too far behind as his armored boots clanked against the metal grating of the C-Deck landing. He swept his rifle from right to left, ensuring the area was clear, before approaching the massive bulkhead door up ahead.

"Secure masks," he barked over his shoulder as the others joined him. He waited long enough for them to refasten their EVA masks over their faces and turn on their oxygen supplies before hitting the button to open the bulkhead door. It ascended into the ceiling that revealed a messy, gore-filled hallway beyond.

Lieutenant Durant stepped into the hallway and swept it with his eyes, the stock of his weapon pressed against the crook of his shoulder as he checked to make sure the immediate area was clear. After what had happened in the topside chow hall, he was not about to overlook even the slightest of details that could inadvertently result in another ambush. He was happy to note that the coast appeared to be clear and motioned for First Squad to lead the way.

Sergeant Stone snapped orders at his squad and Team Two took the helm, moving slightly ahead of the Lieutenant. Durant gestured for them to move forward and the team led the way down the corridor towards the first door. Upon reaching it, their fire team leader had the fire team stack up at the door.

Durant watched Stone assume the fifth position in the stack. The point man for Second Fire Team slapped the panel beside the door and the door receded into the wall. A split-second later a bolt of plasma shot through the opening and crashed into the opposite wall.

"Friendlies in contact," the Marine announced. "Second and Third are in trouble!"

Michael sighed and nodded his head. The Covenant had gotten the drop on Second and Third Squad just like they had managed to ambush them. He bolted forward and moved to the side opposite of Team Two of the door. Peering inside he grimaced.

At the far end of the hangar to the right was the Pelican that had carried Third Squad, its nose against the wall and one of its engines emitting a cloud of black smoke. Tracer rounds zipped out the back of the Blood Tray towards a handful of Covenant troops attempting to overtake the downed bird.

Off to the left near the center of the hangar was Second Squad, fighting desperately against the alien onslaught to keep from being wiped out. It appeared that they had taken some casualties since the firefight had begun.

Durant nodded to the others and then keyed his radio. "Omen Two-One Alpha and Charlie, move in and head for defilade. Engage targets at will, suppressing fire. Friendlies are to the center left and far right, so watch your crossfire. Two-One Bravo, stay here and provide covering fire. Over."

[Cruz, J.]

As the Pelican crashed Cruz was jumping into action and the fray. Taking aim at the Ranger that wielded the SPNKR on the wall above the hanger door, Cruz shot once with his shotgun. The fifteen tungsten pellets spread wide as the left the muzzle colliding with the ranger and ripping through not only the shields but its armor as well. Racking his weapon he sighted an Elite that was landing on the topside of the downed Pelican, sighting Third squad with the MA5B that it clutched. Releasing another Quad naught shell and racking to release another at the target, Cruz watched with satisfaction as the 30 pellets literally tore the Elite’s torso into pieces.

”Mstislav, Dunn; get Third back out to the hall. Second set up a defensive perimeter around the Pelican!” Cruz ordered. Out of his peripheral vision, the Gunnery Sergeant noticed a few members of Third Squad limping out of the downed craft to help with the evacuation of their team. The enemy had the complete advantage in this situation, not only with numbers but with their angles. Cruz aimed for the small groups of the Covenant knowing full well that his shotgun was by far the most deadly weapon in the hanger bay.

“Somebody get Third o-“Cruz was cut off by a blinding maroon explosion from the rear of the Pelican. Racking the last shell, the pissed off Gunnery Sergeant sighted first Elite he saw and exploded its head. Cruz took cover as rounds impacted the wall mere inches from his head. Second Squad seemed to be doing their jobs without needing very many orders. They managed to set up a makeshift defensive line. Well as best they could, given the situation, and were working on attempting to get Third Squad out of the downed bird. Finishing his reload, Cruz popped out of cover and disemboweled an Elite who was firing an M739 squad automatic weapon.

Regardless of how many Covenant they seemed to be dispatching more would end up popping out of nowhere. It was as if there was an infinite supply of the enemy. “How’s everyone’s ammo?” Cruz called out as he pumped two more shells at random Elites. Most of the Marines were either running low or using their sidearm due to the amount of fire they were putting down range. Private Boal took cover behind the same group of crates as Cruz. The man was hit several times and was attempting to clear a jam out of his MA5B. Upon closer inspection, Cruz could see that an enemy round impacted the bolt carrier and embedded itself into it. Making it completely useless until they brought it back to the armory for repairs.

The Gunnery Sergeant smacked the weapon out of the Private’s hands and gave the man his sidearm along with a few magazines for it. Boal nodded his appreciation before he got back to work. Despite being with Oscar Company for less than 4 months, Boal was proving himself as a Marine in the Gunny’s mind. Despite being shot several times and being fresh from SOI, Boal was still fighting his hardest. Cruz wondered how First Squad was doing and if they were ambushed like Second and Third were. As if on cue the bulkhead opened and First Squad moved in firing on the enemy. Seconds later his face was covered in blood.

[Faust, M.]

 Faust secured her mask and glanced at her fire team, checking that they secured their own masks. She had been atypically quiet during the mission so far, but never the less she had lead her fire team well. The hallway was clear fortunately, Michelle hoped that they might make the rest of the mission without any further hostile contacts. Yet such a hope was a naive one. Hearing Stone's order, she signalled for her fire team to take the lead with her. Up front was where Michelle preferred to be, leading by personal example and being the first into the fight.

Reluctantly she let the point man take point, following the LT's gesture, her fire team led the way. 
"Stack up" Michelle ordered through her mike, pressing against the wall, just behind the point man, she checked her rifle as she did so ensuring that there was a fresh magazine in the rifle. After waiting for three seconds the point man opened the door. A plasma bolt whizzed through and impacted on the wall, "Friendlies in contact," the Marine announced. "Second and Third are in trouble!"

 Faust had hoped that she and her fire team would be allowed to go in guns blazing, Michelle's aggressive nature gave her the fierce desire to close with the enemy. Durant however seemed to possess a different plan for Faust and her fire team. She held her tongue, now was hardly the correct time to argue with her superiors. "Solid copy, cover and fire!" Kneeling she moved round the point man for her fire team and took aim on the first alien she saw, squeezing the trigger she watched the Grunt stitch over backwards, blood spraying from the bullet wounds. Her fire team opened fire around her, Michelle continued to open fire an Elite fired a burst of plasma fire catching the point man in the chest. The marine fell back and Faust staggered as the marine fell against her. "Nein!" Michelle cried out, dragging the marine back with her behind cover will the other two members in her fire team kept firing. 

Laying the marine on the ground as carefully as she could Faust, checked for a pulse finding none. The plasma had burned right through the armour just above where the heart was. "God damn it!" Faust yelled returning to her firing position and venting her rage through her assault rifle. "I'm going to kill every single one of you bastards!" This was normal for Faust, generally loud and in a real foul mood. She was enraged over the loss of her comrade and personal friend. "Nein! Nein! None of you will leave this ship alive you filthy alien scum-bags!" Michelle rampage of insults only came to an end when her rifle clacked empty. She tore the magazine out and rammed the fresh one home before leaning back around the wall, continuing to fire. 

[Bukar, O.]

The intricate system of air ducts and ventilation shafts of the Templar were difficult to navigate, even over relatively short distances. The tight, confined spaces did not make matters better when considering the bulky obsidian armor worn by Bukar and Brutus, whom was trailing closely behind him. There were several points in the journey between the two hangars via the vent shafts that Bukar had thought for sure he would have gotten stuck.

Fortunately, that had not been the case.

The sounds of heavy combat echoed down the tight confines of the shaft, becoming louder as the pair of highly trained Orbital Drop Shock Troopers neared their destination. Bukar stopped just before grating on the "floor" of the shaft, and peered through the slits in the vent cover down at the hangar bay below. The scene transpiring at least fifty feet below was that of pure, uncontrollable chaos. Covenant troops of Spec Op's variety appeared to have the upper hand, a seemingly all too common sight since they had arrived aboard the ship and torn it asunder. There were handfuls of men and women in standard Marine armor and EVA gear fighting desperately to push back the onslaught of alien troops.

Off in the right-hand corner was the massive hulk of a downed Pelican, with tracer fire from human weapons zipping out from the open blood tray. Two and two instantly clicked together in the African gunnery sergeant's mind, and he realized that must have been what had caused the small tremor earlier when he and Brutus had been in the hangar next door. Sidetracking to that train of thought, Bukar opened up a secure channel to the trooper behind him. "Blow the charges."

There was no reply needed, as the sound of an explosion coupled with the familiar resultant tremor was all that was needed to tell him the message had been received. His lips curled into a grin and he nodded to himself. The Covenant's short-range jammer was now no more, which meant that internship communication could resume unabated.

"Split up," Bukar ordered. "We've got friendlies in contact directly below us. Let's give them a helping hand."

The sound of Brutus's bulky form scraping against the metal of the shaft reached his ears, an auditory confirmation of his orders. The gunnery sergeant watched the battle occurring directly below him while he waited for his comrade to move into position for the attack. The firefight was intense, and there were already a handful of casualties that he could see from where he lay overhead.

He noticed the door to the hangar open, and more gunfire erupt from it and towards it. Reinforcements, Bukar thought.

"In position," the gruff, gravelly voice of Brutus droned over the radio. Bukar nodded curtly and gripped his rifle tighter, racking the bolt to ensure that a round was chambered. Seeing the bullet in place, he pushed the bolt forward and, with his free hand, removed the vent cover.

Etching himself forward, Bukar counted to three before sliding out of the vent. The lack of gravity held him in place in midair. He tucked his legs in and extended then until his boots touched the exterior metal of the vent shaft. He bent them and then pushed off, vaulting through the air.

He took aim on the first target in his sights: an Elite with a fuel rod cannon. Three quick pulls of the trigger was all that was needed to disembowelled the alien. Bukar grinned. Zero gravity was a hell of a thing.

Because of the lack of gravity, bullets were not tied down by the usual physics found in planetary environments. There were no outside forces acting upon the bullet in flight to slow it down and eventually stop it entirely. So, therefore, the bullet would strike with ten times the force it would normally possess.

To put things simply, Sir Isaac Newton was the deadliest motherfucker in space.

With the Elite down, Bukar went on to the next most immediate threat. A trio of Grunts slowly advancing on the Marines pinned down by the intense suppressive fire dished out by the aliens. A quick spray of. 390 ammo from his MA2B did the trick, gruesomely slaughtering the stubby, monkey-like aliens.

Glancing over at Brutus, he spotted the ODST laying waste to Covenant left and right. The aliens started to realize they were being attacked from above, and turned their attentions towards the armored duo. This offered the Marines an opportunity to seize the advantage while the enemy's attention was diverted.

He could only hope they took the opportunity and did not waste it.

[Durant, M.]

((OOC: I'm about to move things forward a lot, and I will be doing some character control here. I apologize for hijacking anyone's characters, but considering the low activity, I want us to be able to move forward before people grow bored.))

The arrival of the pair of ODSTs spread confusion and chaos amongst the ranks of the Covenant troops who moments ago had maintained the advantage over their adversaries. No one had been expecting an attack from above, which was probably why the move had been so devastatingly successful. The majority of the leadership in the room were offed thanks to the pair of Helljumpers, and the arrival of First Squad could not have come at a better time.

Sergeant Stone took the lead, charging into the room with his typical bravado, firing wildly towards the entrenched Covenant troops. Corporal Davis and the Marines of Team One were right behind him; they moved into cover with Second Squad and laid down covering fire so that Team Three could make it to cover unhindered.

Lieutenant Durant moved in behind them, with Wilkas on his heel, and took cover behind an unopened cargo container. He leaned out from cover and fired on a pair of Grunts that were rushing across the hangar with plasma grenades in hand, his rounds shredding them. The two aliens collapsed face-first before their corpses were flash-vaporized by the detonation of the grenades. A smirk tugged at the sides of his lips, and he was about to turn his weapon onto another set of targets when he noticed something.

The Covenant were retreating.

It took a moment for the actions to register fully in his mind. It was a sight so uncommon that his brain rejected the idea of it happening at first. He, at first, concluded that perhaps they were in the midst of an attempt to flank the humans to regain the advantage they had possessed only moments ago. But, when he noticed the enemy troops exiting through the doors on the opposite side and none returning, nor reports of any Covenant troops flanking his Marines, the realization finally set in.

The Covenant had retreated.

Despite the fact that he should have been smiling, he wasn't. He had spotted the bodies of some of his Marines lying on the floor, their bodies still putting off steam from being hit by plasma fire. By his count there were a couple missing, too. Such as Mstislav. Michael did not wish to think about what that could have meant.

With the battle over, the Marines all converged on their commanding officer. Durant's eyes fell upon the weary eyes of Sergeant Willowbay, whom was likely reeling from the loss of so many of his Marines in Third Squad. Even Sergeant Mason looked grim, despite generally being a very charismatic and motivated individual.

Second Platoon had lost many good people today.

The thought almost made the Lieutenant feel sick. Were it not for his mind taking over, reminding him over and over that those that had perished had died a warrior's death, he probably would have felt the urge to throw up. His brain kept telling him that they had all ascended to Valhalla, and were living a life far greater than his could ever be.

So, Durant swallowed and nodded in affirmation of his beliefs. According to his faith, they were in a better place. Instead of mourning them, he needed to honor their lives and their heroic actions by pushing forward and stomping the Covenant aboard the ship into dust.

His expression hardened and he even managed to crack a very faint, soft smile that garnered looks ranging from curiousity to outrage from his subordinates. To quell whatever questions or protest that might have been coming his way, he lifted up his hand in a gesture to have them belay whatever it was they had to say.

"Marines," Durant said, his eyes skimming over each and every one of their faces, "my brothers and sisters, we have suffered great losses today. Some of our brothers and sisters paid the ultimate sacrifice right in front of our very eyes, so that we could continue fighting. So that we may have a chance to vanquish our mortal enemies once and for all."

Michael paused, his eyes falling on the two obsidian-clad troopers, their faces hidden behind polarized visors. "You just saved a lot of lives, gentlemen. May I ask who you are?"

One of the ODSTs stepped forward. He was a little shorter than Durant, but not by much. His visor depolarized, revealing chiseled features of a distinctly African man. When he spoke, his place of origin became readily apparent.

"I am Gunnery Sergeant Bukar," the ODST said. "But you may call me "Wishbone." The stoic behind me is Staff Sergeant Brutus. We are what remains of the Crusaders."

Durant nodded and then focused on his troops again. "I know you are all angry, and probably looking for pay back. For too long we've been on the defensive against these alien heathens. I think it is time we go on the offensive. It's time we turned the tides of war in our favor. So, listen up and listen close."

After a short pause, he continued. "We are going to scour the rest of this ship for the Covenant, and eradicate them like the infestation they are. Starting with this deck, we are going to search this deck hangar by hangar until we've either killed every last alien freakshow on it, or have found nothing and we move on. Oorah?!"

There was a thunderous chorus of "oorah's" that caused the Lieutenant to smile. "Outstanding! Let's move out!" he exclaimed.

"We know where their drop-ships are located," Bukar said.

Mike nodded. "Then take point and take us there."

The ODST nodded and polarized his visor. Bukar and Brutus then took the helm, leading the platoon out of the hangar and into the corridor beyond.

((OOC: That's it for this thread. Get your last posts in, people. We'll move on by Sunday.))

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace went to get back up but stopped halfway and slid down the piece of cover she had been sheltering behind. She held her injured left leg with her hands gently while she stared seemingly at nothing. So many of her platoon had been killed... So many... She felt numb, like an empty shell held together by her armour. She may have stayed that way for sometime where it not for Durant's speech. At the sound of his voice her training kicked in and focused her attention onto her LT rather than the dark thoughts that infested her mind, sapping her strength and reducing her morale. 

His speech, stirred a fire in her heart and she managed to force herself to stand up. She had to at least keep trying for the sake of her team mates, even if she did not want to keep going herself. Grace holstered her pistol, having lost her assault rifle previously she could not help but feel motivated by his speech, it encourage her even though she was not a religious person. The medic came over to her during the speech and sat her back down gently, before spraying biofoam into the wound carefully. It hurt like a thousand tiny knives sinking into her flesh, she gritted her teeth clenching her teeth and refused to cry out from the pain. Grace had no idea as to what the doctor had told her, she had been focusing on her LT. 

With the ODSTs who had appeared out of nowhere it seemed, Grace believed that they could retake the ship and all make it off alive. She decided to make a vow to herself, if she made it through this battle she would write to her parents as soon as she had the chance. Grace wanted to tell them how she felt about them, how much they meant to her just in case she never got the chance to again. She cried "Oorah" Grace was determined to keep going, Durant's speech had done the trick for her, she was back in the fight for what it was worth. 

Grace with help from the medic managed to stand back up, she lent on his shoulder holding her foot off of the ground. It hurt when it touched the ground and Grace could not wait for the metal fragments that remained in her leg to be removed. The biofoam for now would help with the pain and keep the blood in her body. She doggedly kept trying to remain close to the LT however, even if injured her radio still needed to be near Durant should he need it. Of course keeping up with the rest of the platoon had become a bit of a challenge. 

[Stone, T.]

Stone had not expected to see Second and Third Squad so thoroughly pinned down by the enemy. The two groups had unknowingly waltzed right into the middle of a carefully crafted kill zone, and the entrance of Third Squad had been the event that had sprung the trap. As soon as the door to the hangar opened did his squad come under fire.

Second Fire Team took the lead, returning fire on the enemy as Stone prepared to rush in and assess the tactical situation from the midst of the battle. No sooner had he rushed in, firing wildly in a vain attempt to force the Covenant into cover, did a pair of ODSTs join the fray, attacking from above. With the Covenant's attention somewhat averted, Thomas slid into cover beside a handful of Marines and began to engage the enemy.

Only a few seconds passed by before the Covenant did the unthinkable. They retreated. At first it wasn't very obvious. A handful of troops disappeared while the remainder maintained a heavy suppressive fire on the Marines. Then a few more left. And then some more until all had eventually abandoned their positions and fled the hangar.

Relief spread over the majority of the Marines around him, grateful that the costly firefight had come to an end. Stone, however, was disconcerted by the action. The Covenant very rarely ever retreated, and generally their retreats were met with the eradication of an entire planet. If the Covenant had felt the need to retreat when they had so clearly possessed the upper hand, then they had to have had another ace up their sleeve. A card they were preparing to put in play to cause everyone else at the table to fold.

In other words, he wasn't convinced the enemy's retreat was something to be relieved about.

Regardless, he kept those thoughts on the backburner as the platoon converged on the Lieutenant, looking to him for his leadership. To the man's credit, he gave a somewhat inspiring speech that managed to motivate most of the platoon's personnel. Stone, on the other hand, merely nodded his head and turned his attention to his squad. "Alrigh' you limp dicks, this ain't no time to be poppin' out the party favors. The Covies might have turned tail 'n run, but that don't mean they're gon lie down 'n take it. Let's git our shit together. The Helljumpers are takin' point on this one, 'n I want y'all right behind 'im. Let's show these assholes who they're fuckin' with."

With that, he followed the ODSTs out the door, taking the helm of his squad.