Before you read….
'Italics ' - Single apostrophes denote thoughts.
" " - Denote speaking.
"Italics" - (Italics in quotes) Speaking over radio/comms
BOLD - Emphasis
Now that should be it. Enjoy!
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In the glimmering night, what seemed to be innumerable lights fell towards the surface of Heian. The planet, located in a system adjacent to the surrounding middle colonies of humanity. It was uninhabited but strangely contained lush plant life and even unknown ancient structures.
Under the night sky, clad in light blue combat armor, stood a massive, hulking, ape-like creature, a Covenant Brute Chieftain. It had malevolent, almost glowing orange eyes and a long, snow-colored beard that grew out to the middle of its chest. It stood at twice the height of an average man (10ft 3 in) and nearly as wide as a man is tall. In one hand, he held a torch; in the other was an enormous hammer weighing 38.7 kilograms (85 pounds) that gave off a blue light at the head of the weapon.
SMACK
"Fall asleep again and we'll be eating YOU next,"
With a growl, he knocked his paw holding the torch into the back of the orange cone methane tank strapped to its back, "OW!" it yelped as it fell down before slowly standing back up. It did not dare say another word.
Turning to the rest of the grunts under his command, the brute looked at them in disdain. "Get up," his voice maintained the same rough tone as he began to speak. "We are going back to the camp," he demanded as the Unggoy got up, mumbling complaints through their rebreathers.
"Hmm?" A small snarl of curiosity was let out from the beast as his eye caught something in the dark atmosphere. His eyes narrowed as he focused on a pack of meteors heading toward the planet's surface that was brighter than the others.
He watched as they continued to fall until they slowly disappeared, obscured by the dark tree line of a forest. Snorting, he kicked a grunt out of his way as he began to march back to his camp.
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Meanwhile, in a silent sector of a forest, the same bright objects that the ape had been observing began to impact the ground.
CRASH
At first, one landed it smashed into a cliff before ricocheting off of the rock face and into a pool of water below. Then three more fell immediately after, they made three separate craters in a triangle formation to the left of the cliff and the subsequent swamp. Another minute went by, and two more landed another half-kilometer away from the group of three together. Finally, the last object crashed through the forest canopy, plowing through a tree before stopping lying on its back.
Near the swamp, one of the objects let out a stream of gas before the entrance hatch of the M8900 Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle (SOEIV) drop pod shot off.
Stumbling out of the pod clad in black armor with a large oval-shaped black chest plate was Orbital Drop Shock Trooper (ODST) Master Sergeant Ryan Cortez. He held his head for a moment, shaking off the impact as he began to speak through his com, "Come in, Dutch, you there?" he asked.
Immediately, he received his response, "I copy," he said with a gruff voice, also apparently fighting back the effects of the atmospheric entry.
"We lost Checkman in the atmosphere. Find O'Brien, I'll go check on our…support," he ordered before activating the Visual Intelligence System, Reconnaissance (VISR) Heads up display (HUD). In a flicker, night vision and waypoints with Friend-or-Foe indicators (FOE) blinked onto the reflective glass of his helmet. Outlines outlined in green indicating friendlies stood in his peripherals.
Breaking into a brisk jog Cortez took off through the forest watching his step for roots and other obstacles until he finally came upon a Drop pod lying flat on its back with a large tree trunk sitting beside it.
The dirt kicked up by the rough landing had cleared, and the yellow-opaque glass reflected in the moonlight as a 16-foot-long (5-meter) metal coffin became visible. The same gas that escaped the Sergeant's pod was also released, but instead of the hatch being blasted off like before, a metal crunching sound could be heard as it only partially released.
"Damn," the brown-haired man remarked from beneath his helmet as he approached to help peel it off. But as soon as he took his step a loud BANG was heard, and staring at the pod, he saw that the hatch had been ejected manually.
Reflexively, the man brought his hands up as the metal door soared above him. He breathed a sigh of relief as it missed him by a large margin, and he turned back to see the occupant.
In place of the hatch, now was a large green-colored gauntlet covering a black undersuit. The gauntlet was attached to a partially extended arm, also wrapped in the same Army green armor. Slowly, he watched as the arm reached over, gripping the side of the bathtub-like seat of the pod, as another arm did the same with the opposite sides before a figure hoisted itself out of the unlocked box.
Standing under the moon's glow was a 7-foot-4-inch (224-centimeter) tall super soldier wrapped head-to-toe in Dark Green armor with a black undersuit, a Spartan. Its helmet bore the same color, but the visor was yellow-gold. The Master Sergeant made out a large blue 'A' painted over one of the green pauldrons. Overall, the soldier looked almost otherworldly as it stood in the pod under the pale light of the planet's moon.
"Woah," Cortez couldn't help but remark to himself.
The soldier's head seemed to instantly snap in his direction as if hearing his voice. Ryan, in response, gave a small wave to the green figure. The figure nodded before turning his head in another direction, away and into the forest.
Turning his head in the same direction, Cortez understood that he was probably looking in the direction of the other Spartan attached to this mission, according to the FOE indicator.
The Spartan once again shifted its view as it looked in a direction past Cortez, "Bravo-4 is sinking," a clear male voice spoke through the com to the ODST. It was a stern yet youthful voice that made Cortez think that the Spartan might even be younger than himself.
At the same time, he heard the Spartan's statement, he received a message from Dutch, "Hey Rye, I am gonna need your help with O'Brien," he said with a little urgency in his tone.
"Understood, I'm on my way," he said, turning but giving one more glance at the Sparta,n seeing that he was slowly climbing out of his drop pod and grabbing the munitions inside of it.
…
..
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Upon reaching the swamp, the Master Sergeant couldn't help but grimace under his helmet. Looking out at the swampy pond in front of him, he witnessed the giant metal pod slowly slipping deeper into the water. His VISR indicated that BRAVO-4: PFC O'BRIEN was inside.
He stepped off the bank he was standing on into the water. Immediately, he tensed as he felt the cool water splash the armor on his legs; thankfully, the shock trooper armor had built-in thermal regulation and was vacuum sealed.
He waded through the water that reached his thigh, taking careful steps before slowly sinking deeper into the muddy bottom.
Taking another step, he nearly tripped face-first into the water after finding no foothold. He felt around the sharp drop with his boot before realizing that the water would rise to just above his gut.
"Shit, Dutch go get the gear, and grab Jenkins and the Staff Sergeant while you're at it," he called out turning around to quickly head out of the pond and to his pod.
Just before the pair reached the shore, the remaining members of the mission made their way out of the tree line and into view. Two were ODSTs, their tags read CHARLIE-1: STAFF SGT JOHNSON,CHARLIE-2: CPL JENKINS. They carried standard ODST supplies, equipped with an M7S submachine gun and an M6C SOCOM pistol. Though on Jenkins's back was the massive M99 Stanchion anti-material rifle, it was a wonder how he hadn't gotten it snagged on a branch yet.
The other two were the most eye-catching among the surroundings.
Standing with one in front of the other were two almost twin-appearing Spartans, both reaching 7 feet (213 centimeters) tall, but the one he had seen earlier leading the group was nearly a half foot taller (15.24 centimeters). Their armament was different from all the others; instead of silenced stealthy weapons, they both were equipped with MA5B assault rifles and M6D Magnums. The only difference in the pair's load-outs was that one had an extra M99 Gauss Rifle on their back, and one had an SRS99C-S2 Sniper Rifle.
Neither of them appeared to be in much of a hurry, nor did they seem interested in the man about to drown in front of them.
Seeing their apparent lack of care, Ryan couldn't help but give an annoyed glare from beneath his visor. However, O'Brien had been the most vocal in sharing his displeasure over the inclusion of Spartans in this mission. The truth was that no one in his squad was happy with being relegated to being backup. It didn't help that one of them had not spoken a word to them, and the number of words the other said could be counted on his fingers.
Ignoring the pair of 'green beans', he turned his attention to the additional ODSTs after waving Dutch to go ahead, "Johnson, Jenkins the water's too deep. I need you two to go back to your pods and get your-" he was stopped with his words in his mouth.
"Negative," the same young male voice interrupted Ryan Cortez, grabbing his attention. Looking in the Spartan's direction, he watched as he disarmed himself, handing his firearms to the other Spartan who held them for him. Before the ODST could respond,d the Spartan continued, "He'd drown before you get back."
His words made the man shift uncomfortably as he was repulsed by the straightforwardness of the statement and its definitive tone. Flustered, he turned, ready to argue over the soldier's life, but was stopped once again. This time, a hand was placed on his shoulder, and looking over, he identified the hand to belong to Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson.
"Hold your horses, we're in for a show." his voice was bold and gritty but was laced with a hint of amusement.
Tilting his helmet in confusion, he stared with a questioning look, to which Johnson simply pointed out at the pond.
In the pond was the same Spartan walking through the water with ease. He looked like a Colossus, as even though he shrank with each drop, he remained enormous. Where Ryan had been waist-deep in water, it only came up to his thigh, and at the pod where he was certain he would only have his head above water, the Spartan had most of his torso poking out.
His eyes filled with intrigue, he watched the Spartan as he approached the mostly submerged drop pod. The soldier reached out, setting his hands on the titanium shell and gripping it tightly enough that the viewers on the shore could hear the metal groan from the pressure. Next, the Master Sergeant's eyes shot wide as the man suddenly began to yank up, flexing the undersuit and moving the pod.
Bubbles rose out from under the metal insertion vehicle, and it wobbled side to side in the mud. It quickly began to grow out from the water. The Spartan twisted his torso, bringing his catch to the far side of his body, before all at once he threw the thirteen-hundred-pound drop pod out of the water. His toss carried it over the water and even over the shore, where it landed with a THUD before rolling over itself a couple of times.
Cortez almost completely forgot about the feat as he tried to sprint through the water before he stumbled, realizing what had just taken place. Looking across the water,r he saw the Spartan once again wading through the water, unbothered by the strained movement. The golden visor gave a mysterious feeling as it reflected off the moonlight and water. He shook his head, wondering if maybe he had died on impact before turning to look at the Staff Sergeant. The Staff Sergeant, with his arm crossed, gave him a shrug as if what had just happened was normal.
'Great, it's going to be one of those missions,' he remarked to himself, shaking his head before making his way out of the swamp.
…
..
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CRUNCH...SCRRRATCH
A hatch was thrown off its drop pod, discarded like garbage being sent across a small field. Immediately following the titanium can being opened, a small, younger ODST tumbled forward out of the vehicle. He fell, catching himself on the ground while his helmet rolled off, displaying his maroon-red colored hair and an exasperated face.
"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU THROWING ME AROUND LIKE THAT?" He shouted in between deep breaths as he tried to catch his bearings.
Instead of hearing a retort, he looked back up to see his teammates, Dutch and Cortez, nod their heads at something behind him. Turning around, he looked up to find the shadow of a certain green super soldier peering down at him before wandering off.
Crouching down beside the man, O'Brien, was his squad leader. "You good?" O'Brien nodded in response, seeing this, the older man thought it was as good a time as any to break some bad news to him, "We lost Checkman in the atmosphere. I almost thought we lost you too, had it not been for him," Cortez motioned over to the Spartan who was re-equipping his weapons, stowing the magnum on his thigh magnetic clamp and slinging the spare M99 over his back with the strap.
Hearing of his comrade's death, his face looked sorrowful as he looked down, contemplating the news. Upon hearing of his 'retrieval,' his sorrowful expression turned into one with a little distaste before he dropped his helmet back over his head and began to acquire his equipment from the pod.
The rest of the group had already gathered their things, and once O'Brien finished, the ODSTs gathered around a flat-faced rock. Meanwhile, the Spartans stood off to the side, watching their surroundings. The Master Sergeant began the brief.
Setting down an old-fashioned parchment map made by previous scans of the planet's terrain, "We are here," he rapped his finger on one point of the map, "The primary target is right about here and the secondary will be right beside him," he placed his other hand pointing to a valley.
"It'll be a 14-hour fast march for us to make it to our spot in these mountains. For you, it should take around 12 to make it to your position, but you'll have a bit more climbing ahead of you," Cortez continually motioned to the positions on the map as he explained.
"Awesome 12 hours of marching with this damnthing on my back and two more climbing for dessert," Jenkins grumbled shifting uncomfortably with the heavy rifle on his back.
"Don't worry I'll be there to watch out during your nap time," Johnson joked getting a prompt middle finger from the other ODST he smiled before peering down at the map becoming more serious, "That spot'll put us almost 4 miles away from the target, you sure you can make that shot Jenkins?" he asked gauging his partner's thoughts.
Almost bored, Jenkins asked back, "Is a grunt's blood blue?" The surrounding ODSTs couldn't help but smirk hearing his words.
"That's what I wanted to hear," Johnson knocked his partner's shoulder piece playfully.
"That settles that," Cortez remarked.
O'Brien let out a long sigh, "It's a long ass march,"
"Then we better get marchin'," Dutch replied as the group prepared to move.
O'Brien couldn't help but look over at the pair of Spartans. They were still standing watch, but from the slight movements of their heads, it appeared that they were talking to each other through their armor. He snorted to himself, picking up his M7, "Let's just hope we aren't doing this for nothing."
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Approximately 12 hours after the drop off onto Heian's surface, the strike team had made its way into another one of the planet's innumerable forests. The journey had been difficult, but thankfully, the group was able to accomplish one of their objectives: Photographing and recording the various ruins on the planet's surface. This was one of the main reasons why not one but two Spartans, this late into the war, had been deployed on the mission.
After its completion and a brief skirmish with a nearby Covenant patrol, they continued with the mission, though they had lost an M99 and an SRS99 during the engagement.
"Hold," a male voice spoke through the team comm as he raised a closed fist up beside his head, signaling to hold position. The lead Spartan stopped crouching and resting his MA5B assault rifle across his chest, holding it with his other hand. The group behind him quickly did the same, and the other Spartan went so far as to hide behind a tree while peeking out.
The Spartan stayed silent as the group sat waiting for something, anything to happen. Needless to say, the ODSTs were fed up with being kept in the dark by their over-armored 'teammates'.
"Did you drop your wallet or something?" The shortest of the group jeered to the soldier.
"O'Brien shut the hell up!" another whispered, turning to face the ODST at the back of the group.
The Spartan, seemingly ignoring O'Brien's comment, continued to stay still as he seemed to be watching something. At this point, the other Spartan seemed to be doing the same as both golden honeycomb visors peered out ,looking at something beyond the treeline until-
"Down!" the Spartan quickly ordered, dropping to his belly as the other Spartan did the same. Though confused, the ODSTs followed suit.
A second later, a purple figure zipped into view before buzzing the tops of the trees. The flyer, a Banshee as it was referred to by UNSC military personnel, sped off above the forest flying in the direction the team had just come. The trees beneath its path swayed and buckled from the air displaced above, and the wind stirred up below its anti-gravity pods.
A moment later, both Spartans were back up, "Clear," the order was all the others needed to follow suit, "Charlie-1 on me," the Spartan said, bringing the ODST with the white breastplate to him.
The two seemed to have a conversation with themselves before the ODST turned and looked over his shoulder. "Jenkins, Christmas came early! Come here!" he waved another ODST in the group over.
The Spartan pulled the M99 he had been carrying throughout the duration of the mission off of his back. He carefully guided its strap, being sure not to get it caught on any of his equipment before placing it firmly in the hands of Wallace Jenkins.
"Thanks, Dave," Jenkins said with gratitude, after all, he was the one who lost the first one earlier.
"Don't lose this one," One might have thought the Spartan was making a joke if not for the same calm tone he had used throughout the mission.
"Well this is our stop ladies," Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson turned with his sub-machine gun in hand to the rest of the ODSTs, "We'll see you in hell or the RV. Good luck," he knocked his fist on the Spartan's armor and said something that the rest couldn't hear before he waved nodding to his partner Charlie-2. The pair then began making their way through the underbrush toward their designated shooting spot.
Once they had left the Spartan pointed to a cliff face that was visible through a gap in the canopy overhead, "That's our sniping position, we'll be close on time, but we'll make it if we pick up the pace," his words weren't easy on the ears, but hearing that they still had a chance to complete the mission motivated the group enough to not complain. Seeing that there were no objections, the lead Spartans began moving ahead at a pace visibly faster than before.
The ODSTs followed along after them. O'Brien in the back snorted grumbling to himself before tagging along. He couldn't help but make one more check behind them, sweeping the forest background with his silenced SMG held high. For some reason, he felt as though they were being watched. Shrugging the feeling off, he moved to catch up to the main group.
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2 Hours later, the group at their destination stood watchful of their target.
"Right on schedule," Master Sergeant Michael Cortez couldn't help but comment as he watched the Phantom drop ship fly in from beyond the horizon of the setting sun.
"All that's left is to ace the big wig and go home," Corporal Miles remarked, similarly watching through a pair of binoculars.
O'Brien snorted, "That's if he doesn't miss," he antagonized, watching the back of the Spartan that had been silent through to this point. The Spartan was crouched, holding the Sniper rifle that was propped up by its bipod. Before Dutch could slap the young man in the back of the head, a few words were let out from the other side of the cave.
"She won't," the words caught the attention of the conversing ODSTs as they looked over to the owner. S-003 was the designation that their HUD displayed, and the de facto leader of the operation continued to look through his own range finder. O'Brien, still not convinced, shook his head and did the same.
The three ODSTs stood back from the opening of the cave that displayed the grand landscape. At approximately 2 miles away, a temple with rows upon rows of Elite guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder with remarkable discipline. The area of the landing zone was prepared, the shooter was in place, and all that was needed was the man, or rather alien of the hour.
As the male Spartan stared through his binoculars, he couldn't help but feel as though the ground was shaking. Underneath his helmet, he adopted a confused expression as he tried to make sense of what could be causing it.
"GrrrAAAUUUGH"
S-003's head snapped to his left as he heard the deep guttural growl of a beast. The roar only seemed to be heard by him, but the moment he looked to his side, he found the sound's creator. A Brute Chieftain had emerged, a long titanium combat knife was still sunk into one of its eye sockets, and its white furry mane was drenched in blood from other wounds.
The ten-foot-tall monster of an ape-like Alien touting soaking wet armor came barrelling through the cave's entrance, knocking over two ODSTs, having not seen them. The Spartan heard the crunch of the metal-plated armor as they fell onto the stone floor. It ran with a giant gravity hammer in its hands without regard for anything except what it had its sights on, hell-bent on turning that thing into dust. That being the grey-armored ODST O'Brien and the Spartan Sniper.
Without hesitation, the male Spartan sprinted from his spot, entirely focused on reaching the pair. In a matter of moments, the over 7-foot-tall human crossed the entire chasm just as the Brute had brought his hammer to deliver a blow from across his body with every ounce of his strength as his muscles bulged to their limit. The Spartan's hands shot out like snakes, gripping the back plates of both soldiers' armor before he flung them behind him with almost herculean strength.
Once safely out of the crushing weapon's range, the Spartan let go, trying to defend himself, but it was too late. He turned his head and braced his shoulder to block as the hammer smashed into his shoulder before bouncing off and continuing into his helmeted head.
The armored pauldron sheared off with the blow, tearing off a blue Α (Alpha) insignia. The helmet's visor was dented inward substantially, and cracks had formed running into and throughout the surrounding metal helmet. Sparks from damaged wires and shattered electronics arced in the air around the helmet.
Zzzt!
The force of the attack knocked the Spartan to the side, and he fell over to the ground, not before propping himself up with his good arm. His mind clouded in a haze, he lay tasting blood as his head swam, ignoring the many warnings and alerts the armor was speaking to him. Within the dented helmet, the Spartan's mind only held a single thought:
'How did I get here?'
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Welcome to the story! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of what is to come in the far future.
Honestly, this is my last attempt at writing a Halo-fic so wish me luck and stick along for the ride. As I am planning for this to be fairly long, but not so long that it won't have an ending.
These first few chapters will be a bit slow, but once we hit the Human-Covenant war we'll pick up some steam.
Any way drop any questions and I'll see you next time.