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Destruction with Impudince and Ignorance.
This is jsut something i started writing, I DO NOT KNOW how the actually campaign story goes, i just thought it would be nice to write something about the upcoming game. This is what i have so far.
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Chapter One: "Landing"
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Brian, nicknamed "Rookie" by his Helljumper platoon, lifted his SMG and climbed out of his drop pod. The wet, cracked floor almost made his boots slip. He cocked back the bolt on his gun and walked forward, through the hole in the crumbled buildings wall. Above him, search lights from a Phantom scanned the area near him. He jogged down the alley and hid behind a piece of rubble. His HUD picked up a brute patrol coming his way.
They were armed with Stealth Armor, Spiker Rifles, Carbines, and one even had a Fuel Rod Cannon nestled against his chest. Brian held his breath as they passed by, and then ran down the rest of the street. Ignoring all the flashing signs of evacuation.
He decided to rendezvous at the several different hot spots where the ODST drop pod soldiers had managed to stay alive. Brian raised his gun cautiously raised his silenced SMG and entered a lobby of a hotel. He noticed a soldier crouching near his drop pod and waving at him.
"Ey' Rookie, glad to see your alive. Anyway, you managed to steer clear of those brute patrols? Some came near me and I showed em' why we're called Helljumpers." He gestured towards some armored bodies on the ground near him.
"Uh...yeah Timmy. Anyway, why don't you stand up so we can get the hell outta' here?" Rookie asked as he turned around and scanned the street for enemy movement.
Timmy grinned, "well, see Rookie, in the fight...." Rookie groaned, "I kinnda' got injured on my leg. And my helmet blew off."
"Dammit Timmy, Sergeant was right, you are a wild card. Fine, I'll help you up, but you owe me sooo much if we get killed!"
Timmy laughed and reached out with his arm as Rookie pulled him up. Then, hobbling with him, they set out onto the streets again.
"See Rookie, I think we needa' find at least three more guys from our platoon before we go anywhere. I know where one of the locations is, gimme a sec...." Timmy fumbled with a small computer in his vest, "ah here we go. There's a downed pod about three blocks down in the museum. The ODST trooper inside's supposedly suppose to have a green light status bar. Let's check it out."
"Easy for you too say," Brian mumbled, "you don't have to carry a guy on your shoulder."
***
Their footsteps echoed loudly against the empty, wet, entrance hall. They passed broken glass cases, stepped on bullet shells, and even over burned bodies. Timmy's face glowed with a pale, grim, slash of the lips. They heard a groan from a dark corner and rushed over.
There was a soldier clutching his stomach and groaning. A trail of blood was painted from the drop pod to the soldier.
Rookie put down Timmy and ran over to the soldier; his HUD displayed the soldier's name as Michael.
"Holy -blam!- Michael, are you okay? Damn it, where are you hurt?" Rookie asked worriedly.
Michael whispered weakly, "my chest vest...it's shrapnel from Spikers. Restricted movement....piercing flash...hu-hurt..."
Rookie nodded and slowly pried open Michael's vest and slowly wiggled out a piece of big shrapnel that was jammed inside Michael's chest and put a piece of cloth over the bleeding. Then he took out a syringe and jammed it into Michael's stomach.
Slowly, Michael's breathing became less ragged, and his chest eased.
Behind Rookie, Timmy spoke, "uh....Rookie? We got a problem; we got some landing party visitors." His voice sounded nervous.
"Who?" Rookie snapped.
"Oh, just two Phantoms and a -blam!--load of elites."
***
Rookie sighed, asserting the situation. It reminded him of when he had been reassigned to the ODST unit. He had been given a BR 55 and sent out into the wilderness. To join the Helljumper platoon he had needed to dispatch five ODST’s and two Spartans. He had managed with the ODST’s and had even gotten one of the Spartan’s, but a Spartan with a serial number of 00117 had pegged him.