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  • Subject: Retribution
Subject: Retribution

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

My first Fan Fiction based off of a Machinima Script I wrote awhile back. Will have six spots reserved for my first six parts and will post more as I get them written. Hope they are enjoyed!

Meanwhile, here's the Plot:

At the end of Halo 3, things are cooling down on Earth, though on the far-off planet of Sanghelios other plans are being executed as, yet another, Prophet has shown himself. This fourth High-Prophet who goes by the name of Hate wishes to bring Retribution down upon the races that killed his brethren, the Humans and the Sangheili. His plot includes brainwashing all of the remaining Sangheili on Sanghelios to join his new covenant of races and using their over-whelming power to wipe out the Humans.

The only Sangheili who manage to escape his indoctrination are the remaining forces in Earth's side of the Milky Way led by Thel Vadam and his Shipmaster Rtas Vadum. With the Chief missing, and the Arbiter on his way home to his doom, two new heroes will rise up to defend Earth's outlying colonies and hold together binds between Sangheili and Human. The road will not always be easy, and many will die... heroes will fall... plots twisted. Be ready to hit the ground running and rescue our frail race from utter destruction.

  • 07.04.2009 7:28 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Prologue: Under Attack

*Beep, beep, beep, beep!* Blake Cougar's alarm was going off at 0600 hours just as any other day aboard one of Earth's scientific space stations might start. Blake smacked the snooze on his alarm and rolled over to the cooler side of his military-issued cot, thinking to himself, "It's not my shift yet, I can sleep in another hour. maybe two."

An hour later an alarm resounds throughout the station. Blake reaches to turn off his own clock to realize the noise was not his alarm. After making the realization that something bad was happening on board the science station, Blake immediately dressed himself in the white shoes, green slacks, white T-Shirt, and green jacket that was his uniform. After grabbing a small side-arm he kept in his desk drawer, an MG6 Magnum, this he tucked into the waist-line of his slacks, he made his way from his bunk to the mess hall at the end of the corridor on his right.

Men in Green suits, Red suits, Blue suits, and White suits are talking to each other with the usual chatter that goes along with any emergency, "What's going on?" "Are we under attack?" "Is it the Covenant?" As more and more people converge on the Mess Hall, Blake slips out his access card and opens a doorway to a maintenance hall on his right. After proceeding inside, he closes and locks the door behind him to be sure no one follows, then making his way down the dark corridor. After several twists and turns Blake walks out into the blinding light of the Command Deck. Red lights are flashing and alarms blaring as men in black uniforms move about hastily. The security force already suited up and wielding various different UNSC close to medium range weaponry.

Locating the Commander in charge, Blake makes his way through the busy men and women hastily to have a word with the only man with a level head on the whole station. As Blake approaches the Commander, Thomas Potter, the commander is just finishing giving orders through the intercom.

"...Personnel on hand in case of attack. I repeat, I want all Security Personnel on hand in case of attack." As the Commander finishes with the announcement he turns to Blake who salutes him with a stiff arm. "What are you doing here maintenance? At ease."

"I was curious about the situation, sir," Blake began, "Are we under attack?"

The commander let out a long sigh before saying, "Son, I sure as hell hope not. However an unknown craft just slipped into the system and is on it's way here. It'll arrive in less than fifteen minutes."

Blake looks around the room at all the Security Personnel armed with BR55s and MA5Cs, and the men and women running the diagnostics and weapons systems. The idea of death never loomed on Blake's mind before but now, it was more prevalent than any other feeling he might've had at this point. This was about survival now, he needed to get off this station and immediately.

Heading back down the maintenance hatch he used to get to the Command Deck, Blake heads towards the security block in search of the only friend he had made on Nebula Vera. As Blake draws nearer to the gun racks and armor storage units, he can hear rummaging sounds and grunting from behind a stack of heavy-duty crates. Sprinting over to the crates, Blake calls out greetings to whosoever may be there.

"Yeah? What do you want? Cant you see I'm-," Bart stops short as he realizes who he's talking to, "Blake, what in blazes are you doing here? You need to be at your post, ready to take care of any damage."

"Are you mad? Listen, there was an unknown vessel heading our way. The commander said it was fifteen minutes out ten minutes ago. It-will-be-here-soon. We need to get out of here!" Blake had picked up an M7 SMG with a sling and now had it on his back with a clip of ammo attached to the strap like a bandolier.

"Blake, come one. Stop fooling around we need to-." But Bart is cut off by a large explosion and the sound of shearing metal as the whole station shakes and red-alert is issued station-wide.

The familiar bell-toll rings as the PA system chimes in with the Commander's voice, "This is a station-wide Red-Alert. I want all available men to pick up arms immediately. All official personnel are to make their way to the docking bay now. I repeat, This is a station-wide."
As the Commander's voice fades out, Bart and Blake are already running, not to their stations, but to the nearest path that will lead them to the docking bay. The two men are mere feet from the bay entry-way as they turn a corner and are halted by congestion in the hall-ways. A checkpoint had been set-up to prevent non-officers from leaving the station.
"Damn, how are we going to get past that?" Bart exclaims to Blake, "We don't have Officer paperwork and for good reason, we aren't officers!"

Blake looks around anxiously trying to find a way out before noticing what it was he was looking for, a maintenance hatch, "C'mon! We might have a chance to get there through here."

As the duo make their way down the dark corridors of Nebula Vera's Maintenance tunnels, the smell of fuels and synthetic materials grows stronger. At the end of the tunnel there is a guard posted in front of the Maintenance hatch with a BR55 whom is quickly dispatched by Bart as soon as the door slides open.

"What the hell was that?" Blake exclaims in amazement.

"That..." Bart begins as he wipes the blade of his combat knife, "was our survival over his, he was going to die anyway. He isn't an officer."

As Blake opens his mouth to argue, another explosion rocks the Station drowning whatever words Blake had dug up. As the shockwave spreads across the station, more shearing and a violent concussion follow. Moments later a loud bang is heard and another violent shaking as a chunk of the station passes by a viewport, bodies and supplies floating in empty space. Blake and Bart rush to the nearest Shortsword fighter jet, Bart taking the pilot seat and Blake Co-Piloting.

As the ship releases it's magnetic landing gear, a small jolt shakes the craft before it rockets out of the open bay door. Almost immediately after leaving the bay, the small fighter craft is struck with a Plasma bombardment round, decimating all but the fuselage and the left-side of the fighter. As the ship enters the host-planets atmosphere, Blake hits his head on the side of the canopy and all goes black as the ship begins chipping away in the intense heat of entry.




[Edited on 07.05.2009 8:24 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:29 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter 1: A Rough Landing

Blake wakes up to find himself in a lush green environment, the birds are chirping, a nearby stream is trickling away peacefully, and the sound of wild-life all around is overwhelming after the events of the last thirty minutes. Suddenly, Blake feels a warm sensation on his face which he at first corresponds with the glowing sun. But the warm sensation became hotter, until it was too much to bear. Blake begins screaming as he burns to a crisp and he watches his own skin fall from his muscles, which in turn shrivel up, veins screaming and blood evaporating until all that is left is blackened bones. At this point, Blake awakens screaming and sweating.

"Whoa, whoa.... we're safe, calm down, we made it." Bart's reassuring tone and pressure on his shoulder is all Blake needed to relax.

"Wha- How? I remember fire all around us... then everything was black..." says Blake, as he struggles to remember the past thirty minutes.

"We crash landed there," Bart points over to a small crater, still smoking with burnt grass all around it, "We were lucky we hadn't exploded on impact."

"You dragged me all the way over here? That's at least twenty feet! How'd you move me and all the gear?"

Bart shrugs his shoulders at Blake before saying, "I guess adrenaline took over. Now come on, no more questions. You took a hard hit to the head and you have some burns from laying your head against the canopy during entry. You need to lie down."

Blake manages a weak smile at his companion, "Thanks for watching out for me. I knew I made a good choice."

Bart stares at Blake quizzically, "A good choice? Good choice in what?"

"Good choice in my best friend." Blake squeezes out his last sentence before collapsing back to sleep, unconscious.

Bart looks down at the man who weighed one hundred and sixty pounds, that he could pick up with one arm, then looked around at the small camp. The two cots, the small burning fire, the survival packs from the Shortsword, and the weapons and ammo. Everything that would seem extraordinary to any other human was second nature to him. Bart can't help to wonder as he watches over this insignificant maintenance worker how he had befriended him. Was it the time he saved Blake from that hot-headed security officer, or perhaps the time Blake almost fell into a large turbine. Whatever generated this friendship, Bart's life now seemed to revolve around keeping this one man alive. No matter what little adventures they get caught up in.

The next day, Blake awakens to find a small mammal, almost squirrel-like on a spit over a low fire. As he stares at the small parcel, he realizes Bart is already eating one of the animals. Blake reaches for the squirrel-animal over the fire picking it up, and examining it.

"What is this? Some kind of squirrel?" Blake inquires to Bart.

"You just wake up from a major head injury and the first thing you do is try to find out what I've caught. Why not just eat it and enjoy the hot meal. It could be hot mush instead you know." Bart gestures towards the Shortsword's survival packs as he finishes his sentence.

"Well, when you put it that way..." As Blake bites down into the squirrel he can't quite decide whether it tastes like steak, chicken, or some mixture inbetween. At any rate, it was cooked well.

"See, was that so hard? Really, you should learn to act more instead of think." Bart smiles over at Blake as he takes another bite.

For an hour the two sit in silence enjoying their meal. Bart had captured enough of the small creatures to make a boastful Thanksgiving Dinner if this were the time, or the place, for such a holiday. With a full stomach and light head, Blake lays back down on his thin cot falling back into a peaceful slumber. He awakens to find Bart sitting with his back to him about ten feet away. Blake decides to walk over to him and have a seat.

"Do you not sleep?" Blake nudges Bart gently, chuckling.

"Only when it's absolutely necessary... Or I'm given an order." Though Blake was joking around, it's obvious that Bart is feeling tense about the subject of sleep. Blake can only wonder why Bart acts so strange with questions about physical needs.

"Well, whatever. I'm happy to be alive right now. Do you..." Blake struggles over the question as a lump forms in his throat, "Do you think anyone else made it? I mean, it was practically falling apart when we left."

For once, Bart shows emotion as he angrily responds to Blake's question, " It WAS falling apart, Blake! Did you not see the chunk of metal streaming human bodies? I mean good god, we're lucky to be alive right now."

Blake drops his head in shame as his pride takes a beating, "Sorry, I just... I was hoping for the best, you know?"

Bart sighs and shrugs his shoulders, looking over at Blake, "Hey, I get it. You're trying to find the silver lining. But Blake, here the silver lining is all gone the clouds have taken over. There's no chance for them now."

Blake, feeling deflated, picks at some grass at his feet, "I guess you're right. Hey, do you know where we are at least? I know the planet is Colony Omega II, but any idea of nearby settlements or perhaps a small village?"

Bart sighs before pulling a small device from his pack which Blake presumes to be some sort of GPS as, after messing with some buttons and dials, Bart responds with, "There's a small town east from here. If we pack up now, we should make it before nightfall. Go light though: Guns, ammo, and necessities only. Anything else will only slow us down."

"Right." Is Blake's only response.

Blake stoops to strap his M7 back across his shoulders and over his back, excess ammo still on the strap attached to the gun's grip and shoulder rest. When Blake turns back towards Bart he finds that his friend is now wearing a standard Marines' helmet with small square visor over his right eye. He looked absolutely intimidating holding his BR55 with his MG6 in its holster on his right thigh. Nodding at Bart to show that he's ready, Blake takes the GPS from him and pockets it. Both men begin heading East as the suns glare down at them from above with their twin beams of UV rays.






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:12 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:29 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter 2: Omega Guerilla Squad

As dusk draws in, shrouding the savannah-like surroundings in a deep orange glow, the outskirts of the settlement is easily visible on the horizon. As the two men move closer to the buildings farthest out from the town, the residual smell of death after a massacre hangs in the air. The melancholy atmosphere generated by the settlement is enough to somber up Blake's optimism terribly. Bart suggests they camp out-side of the town for the time-being and Blake follows him to a spot near the edge of a thin forest of trees, they set-up in a small clearing just large enough for both cots and the minimal supplies.

"What could make them do this?" Blake begins, "Why, after all our races have been through to stop the flood and Halo, would they attack us?"

Bart, standing on the edge of the camp, hangs his head before looking out over the horizon, "I don't know Blake. But I promise you know, the bastards will wish they hadn't."

"Do you think Chief will ever show up, Bart?"

"What?" Bart asks, startled, turning back towards Blake.

"Well, he saved our asses before. Do you think he'll make it back in time to do it again," Blake shrugs before continuing, "No one can stop the Chief."

"Look, Blake. We don't need a Spartan to save us. He's as good as dead right now, lost in god knows where. Why don't you just rest and not worry about it, alright?"

Blake lies down on the cot he was using as a seat, supporting his head with his right arm behind his head, "Yeah, I guess you're right. G'night Bart."

Bart grunts at Blake as his response before turning his back on him to watch the camp; as Bart turns around, something hard smashes into the back of his head, dazing him. Spinning around to see his attacker, Bart falls backwards onto his rump trying to keep his eye lids open. A man in a dark uniform is standing over him with a hammer, as Bart's vision begins to fail him the figure does a strange call back over his shoulder which is responded to with a similar call. More figures appear as Bart falls unconscious.

After, what must've been hours judging by the amount of light coming through a nearby window, Bart finally awakens to find himself laying in a soft mattress in a large white room. Across from him, Blake lays asleep, sedated maybe, on a similar mattress. The room is at least twenty feet by fifteen feet and has several beds like his and Blake's. With a jolt, Bart realizes his armor and weapons are missing and begins to feel very vulnerable in just his Shirt and padded cloth pants. Blake is still in his Maintenance outfit, save his jacket which is hung on a rack nearby. Momentarily a female figure walks in wearing a white doctor's gown and white hat with a Red Cross. As she notices that Bart is awake, she smiles kindly and walks over to his bed.

"Well, hi there sleepy-head. And how are we feeling?" The nurse asks with the tone of a mother worried for her sick child.

Bart notices she's wearing a name-tag inscribed with her name on it, "I'm, er, doing better now I suppose Ms... Weatherby is it?"

Ms. Weatherby looks perplexed before realizing she's wearing a name-tag, "Yes, that would be me. Your friend should be awake momentarily. At which point the Commander would like a word with the both of you."

Bart stares at the nurse, confused, "Commander? Where are we exactly?"

"Well," Ms. Weatherby begins, smiling again, "this would be the infirmary."

"You mentioned something about a Commander..?" Bart asks again, becoming annoyed.

"Why yes, Commander Sullivan. He's in charge of the OGS after all." Ms. Weatherby replies with a matter-of-fact tone. "Now lay back down, you need your rest."

Not wanting to prolong the Nurse's visit, Bart lays back on his soft mattress and drifts off to sleep. In his dream, Bart sees men in doctor's uniforms above him, working on him. He can see the evil instruments on the shiny silver tray beside his head, feel the leather bindings holding him in place: on his wrists, his ankles, and his waist. As one of the doctors picks up a scalpel and presses it to Bart's skin, he awakens in the infirmary sweating and shaking. Blake is sitting on the side of his bed holding the sides of his head, as if trying to stop it from splitting in half.

"What happened? How did we end up in this room?" Blake asks while holding his head in his hands.

"To be honest," Bart begins, "all I know is that this is some kind of infirmary. We were supposed to meet some Commander Sullivan once you awoke, guess we better get moving."

Blake stares at Bart for a moment, "Can we trust these people? And do you even know where to go?"

"I don't know if we can or can't. But it's our only choice. As far as finding Sullivan, the nurse is due back any moment. I can hear her walking down the hall-way."

"What? I don't hear anything." No sooner did Blake say this, Ms. Weatherby walks in.

"Oh. Didn't realize you were both awake now." Ms. Weatherby states bluntly and in surprise.

"We'd like to see Sullivan now, if you will." Bart gestures towards Blake as he says this and walks over to where the Nurse is standing.

"Uhm, alright. If you'll follow me please." Ms. Weatherby gestures with her hands towards the exit before walking through the Infirmary door.

The halls of the building were brick painted white. On the wall facing the Infirmary door were several colored lines. One of which, the red one, said simply "Infirmary" and stopped in front of the infirmary door. A green line went down the left side with the words "Mess Hall" in bold white every few feet. The line the group was following was yellow and read "OGS Command" in black letters which covered the original white letters that had, at one point, read out "Barracks". Well, the group seemed to be somewhat organized even if not majorly so. Ms. Weatherby leaves Bart and Blake at the entrance to the room as she heads back towards the infirmary. The two men enter the room and are greeted by a man with a rough voice and piercing eyes.

"Sorry about the rough pick-up. I couldn't allow my men to get attacked by any damn zealots because you decided to have a little chit-chat." Sullivan sounds like a weary man who's had to deal with a lot of pressure.

"Where are we?" Blake demands. "Which UNSC base is this?"

"UNSC? Son, there is no official military this far out from Earth. All UNSC are back at home-base or in the larger colonies." Sullivan takes a drink from the coffee on his desk, "You're in the OGS headquarters, my friend."






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:13 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:30 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter 3: Recruits

Somehow during the conversation the day before, Blake and Bart had been recruited into the OGS. Due to their experiences and previous jobs in the UNSC, their ranks were of different caliber. Blake was recruited as a private, no real combat experience but skilled enough to use a gun. Bart, on the other hand, was given the rank of sergeant and his own squad, Blake included. Days went by without change for a week. However, during the second week of their employment, Bart and Blake were summoned into Sullivan's office for an important meeting. The duo salute Sullivan as they enter his office, Sullivan waves his hand in dismissal and asks them to take a seat.

"I'm sure you're curious why I asked for you to come here?" Sullivan began, winding his fingers together on his desk-top.

"Yes-sir," Is Bart's only reply.

"Very well," Sullivan stands out of his chair, walking over to a holo-screen, "There have been reports of Covenant sightings in the area depicted in red out in the savannah. Your mission will be to take them out."

Bart looks at the holo-screen, examining the formidable amount of red, "How large is the encampment sir?"

"Reports say about twenty, give or take. Should be a rather simple take-down," Sullivan pauses for a moment, "And we could use the supplies here."

Bart thinks the mission through, trying to find every possible way his squad of four men, himself included, could take on twenty armed Elites, unable to come up with a solution he inquires to Sullivan, "How can four men possibly defeat twenty Elites?"

Sullivan smiles at Bart in enthusiasm, "I was hoping you'd ask that. You won't be going in with four men, but with ten."

Bart and Blake look at each other wondering who's getting the promotion.
Sullivan continues, "Ah, confused I see. Mr. MacTyler, you can come in now."

A large stocky man dressed in UNSC military Attire enters the room. He appears to be Scottish and as he introduces himself, indeed has a Scott accent.

"Captain Shawn MacTyler at your service, gentlemen," MacTyler takes a moment to shake hands, "and ready to take command of this operation and kick some alien arse."

Bart nods at MacTyler in approval, "Glad to have you on board, sir. My squad is at your disposal."

MacTyler laughs and slaps Bart on the back, "That's what I like to hear! Course you're a bit stuffy but you'll do. Every army needs the serious types, eh?"

After the meeting Bart gets Blake and the rest of his squad suited up and ready to go. Within the hour Bart, Blake, MacTyler, and the seven other soldiers were geared up. MacTyler brought with him an M41 SSR and his modified for range MA5C. The rest of the group had generic weapons ranging from the MA5C to the BR55. The group required one Transport Warthog, and two Warthog LRVs, MacTyler in the lead car, driven by one of his men, Bart driving the transport hog, and Blake bringing up the rear.

What the team saw as they approached their destination was no small camp. Purple metallic walls had been constructed with fifteen foot tall towers to accompany each corner of the base, which seemed to be octagonal. The group silenced the warthogs a few yards from the compound to think through their battle tactics and to come up with a plan. As the discussion continues, one of the soldiers decides to relieve himself in some nearby shrubbery. As he loosens his belt and prepares to urinate, he is grabbed around his throat by a very large, very strong, invisible hand. The soldier does all he can to cry for help or beat on the creature but cannot do either. As his last breath escapes his throat he says in barely a whisper, "Elites...."

"Surround the humans. Don't allow them to escape, my brothers." The unknown sangheili tosses the lifeless man to the ground some feet behind him as he decloaks.

Bart removes his safety and lifts his MA5C to his eye, taking aim as ten elites decloak and surround the team. The other soldiers do the same and fall into a tight circle formation all facing out towards the attackers.

"Drop the weapons, worms, and your lives are spared. Don't, and join your ancestors today," The elite major snarls at the group of weak humans.

"Shove it up your arse, you worthless buffoon," Is MacTyler's reply as he hefts the M41 up to his shoulder and crouches down to take a shot. At the last second a stream of hot plasma cleaves the Rocket Launcher and the occupying rockets in half; which he tosses to the side, then re-arming himself with his MA5C.

"Men, I want you to know that you're all the best soldiers I could ask for," MacTyler removes the safety on his rifle as does his four remaining soldiers.

"You can't be serious, MacTyler," Blake begins under his breat, "There's too many."

MacTyler ignores Blake's words and addresses Bart, "Lad, I want you to take your squad and get the hell out of here. We'll give you a diversion. Get behind us and be ready to bolt on my order."

Bart nods at MacTyler and removes the safety on his own rifle.

MacTyler silently prays his last prayer before yelling, "Fire!"

The amount of suppressing fire upon the Elites is too much at first, the sound of multiple Assault Rifles firing at once deafens all within a ten foot radius. At the exact same second, Bart and his squad charge the two elites in front of them firing with all they've got. One of the Elites goes down, however the other remains standing and prepares to fire. At the last second, Bart jumps up and punches a grenade down the Elite's throat before continuing on with the rest of his men. An explosion ricochets off the surrounding cliffs and sangheili parts disperse in every direction. As Bart and his men reach the Warthogs, they turn to see MacTyler and his men die under a wave of Plasma as the Elites recover from their temporary stun.

"Mount up! We need to return to base ASAP!" Bart orders his squad and moments later the Transport Warthog is occupied and ready to move out.

The Sangheili Major then gives a signal to a hidden sniper wielding a Beam Rifle.

Out of nowhere, a thin beam of purple plasma rips through the front axle system sending the Warthog flipping and barrel-rolling into a ditch. The marines in the back are sent flying after the first flip and die on impact with the ground. Bart's vision grows fuzzy as he tries to recover from hitting his head on the dashboard. Blake is already out cold on his right, slumped over in the passenger seat. Bart finally blacks out, lying against the steering wheel, horn blaring.






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:14 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:30 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter 4: Shadows

Blu' Taughonee is out on watch, patrolling the cliff-wall which conceals the location of his brothers' base within a small cave. Sticking low to the shadows, Blu' slinks down his patrol path and is wielding a Covenant Carbine, Plasma Rifle bouncing on his thigh in its holster. Out of the silence, Blu' can hear Humans yelling in the distance. Within minutes the rapid popping of Human weapons and electronic hissing of Plasma weapons tears through the usually quiet landscape, followed by an explosion and more yelling. A few moments later, a Human ground vehicle with four occupants tears down a dirt path several yards from Blu', the soldiers in the back firing their ballistic weapons at the antagonists. From up high, a clearly distinguishable beam rifle laser tears into the frail human metals and the ground-based vehicle flips and lands in a ditch, a resounding bass noise issuing from its direction. A group of sangheili inspects the bodies and, content with the damage, proceeds back in the direction they'd originated from. Blu' uses this timing as his chance to inspect the wreckage for himself. The twisted metal of the transport vehicle was indistinguishable from scrap metal at this point, a small fire burning in the engine compartment. After thoroughly checking for signs of life, Blu' grabs the two limp humans and carries them back to base for medical attention.

"Welcome back, brother. We were becoming impatient," Zar' Grotawnee begins, then notices the limp forms, "Brother, why do you bring them here. Will they not see us the same as they see our enemy?"

"These humans are frail and require attention, brother. I could not,honorably, allow these warriors to die any death outside of combat." Blu' retorts, signaling with his hands for added emphasis.

As Blu' and Zar' argue, Blake begins to gain consciousness. He prepares to rub his sore head when he hears the Elite voices. He instead decides to sit still and pretend to still be unconscious. He learns that the larger Elite, Zar', is in charge of Blu', the smaller elite, and a group of four more. He also discerns that these soldiers had inhabited the cave for some time. Blake listens in as the two Elites carry on in their conversation.

"Brother, would you not do the same for any other comrade?" Blu' demands, his voice raising.
Zar' grabs Blu' around the throat, lifting him into the air, "Do not question my honor!" Zar' sets Blu' back down, "Very well, we shall tend to the humans. Do not let your judgment fail me, brother."

Blu' nods at the ranger in charge of his small insurgency. At this point, Blake's heard enough and decides to sit up on the metal table he was set on. All of the Elites in the room turn towards him at which point he pauses not sure whether to try to fight them, or grab Bart and flee. Eyeing his weapons on a nearby stone, Blake tries to move in a way to allow him to bolt and grab them, but stops as a piercing pain temporarily paralyzes him, he's got some broken ribs.

Blu' notices Blake's intent and moves the guns to a safer location, "That would be unwise, human. You are outnumbered and wounded. We pose no threat to you, however, as we are civilized after all."

Blake grows angry with the Elites before him, "Civilized?! Your kind has murdered, pillaged, and otherwise laid waste to Human colonies and now are attacking again! How can you call your kind civilized?"

Zar' now grows angry himself, "You see, brothers? The humans would gladly kill us in our sleep just as well as the rest of our blinded race."

"What do you mean, your blinded race?" Blake inquires to the large Elite as he hops off the table, shuffling over to a nearby cave-wall. The whole time, the Elites are watching him, hands on guns, until he is finally settled.

Zar' sighs in exasperation as he gets ready to recite his tale of tragedy and disgrace among his people, "Human, the sangheili who attacked you today, are no longer my brothers. There was an incident on our home-world. Those of us who could escape, did. There is no place for us on Sangehlios until our current conflict is settled."

At this point, Bart awakens dazed and confused, as he spots the cave full of Elite soldiers, he makes a reach for the usual spot he'd find his MG6 Magnum just to realize it isn't there. He notices Blake sitting in a corner of the cave and mouths to him, "What's going on?" Blake simply shakes his head and replies, "Just sit back and relax, it's story time." "What?"

"Humans, I hope your discussion is over as there isn't much time. If you are interested in my tale, then hold your tongues." Zar' adds a small growl at the end for emphasis which gains the men's full attention. Zar' goes into a fully in-depth story over the happenings between the beginning of the first contact war to the destruction of the Ark and the salvation of all races within the galaxy. "These, humans, are past events, am I not correct?" Bart and Blake give a simultaneous nod at the Elite who continues, "Very well. Your race knows loosely of the Arbiter. You humans also know of your demon's bind to the Arbiter through honour, though your race insults the severity of the bind with the word 'friendship'."

"Friendship can be a pretty powerful thing, Elite." Bart interjects, looking over at Blake as he does so.

"Perhaps to your short, pitifully frail, lives it does. We sangheili do not feel such necessities for simple relations. We build our bonds over hundreds of your Earth-Years, these are not broken easily. Only a partnership during great tides of battle may speed up the process of an honour-bind." Zar' responds to Bart, making his interjection seem worthless, "The Arbiter, Thel' Vadamee, was a great sangheili as he served and wore his armor well."

"I don't understand. What does this have to do with attacking Earth and her colonies?" Bart interrupts, "Is there more than you're letting on?"

"You're very perceptive for your race, human." Zar' looks out the cave entrance before returning his gaze to the humans, "In our previous confrontations, we were blinded by the Prophet's lies. We followed his orders under the premise that we would appease our Great Rings, that the Great Journey and salvation would be our own to grasp. This was not to be." Zar' signals at Blu' to continue and leaves the room.

Blu' steps forward and addresses Bart and Blake, "After the Prophets understood their lies grew thin and we sangheili were opposing their rule, our blood-enemies, the jiralhanae, became their new favorite pet." Blu' grunts in disgust for a moment, "The mindless brutes followed orders that no sangheili would risk his honor to do."

Blake interrupts again, "I still don't see where this is going. What's happened, are you in a civil war with your own race?"

Blu' nods at Blake, "And much more. Another prophet has declared himself ruler of the Sangheili and has formed a New Covenant of races. He dictates that the human race is a filth to be destroyed, calling a crusade against your kind. Those of us who have shown loyalty to the Arbiter fled, or remained here; The Arbiter, himself, however, has gone forth to bring peace to Sanghelios, taking all our hopes with him."






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:15 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:31 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter Five: The Return Home

Thel' Vadamee watched through a viewport as space seemed to stand-still, even though his carrier ship was moving at top-speed back to his home-world. The Arbiter cannot help but think to himself how dark the situation was, yet how grateful he was to intercept such an important message. Thel still remembers the incident, details fresh in his mind. He had just ordered his shipmaster to take his men back to sanghelios, the rift which opened allowed transmissions from his home-world to be picked up for a brief moment. The transmission had said, "Your spiritual cleansing, my sons and daughters, is soon coming. All that must be done is rid this galaxy, nay this universe, of the human presence!" The bone-chilling message angered the Arbiter; he knew what must be done. Leaving several of his ships behind, Thel took his flag-ship, The Shadow of Intent, and its crew back to sanghelios to confront this false Prophet of the gods. He knew not what awaited him there, only knew that the chances of blood-shed were high. As The Shadow of Intent pulled into one of the very large hangars near the Capitol city of Vadam, Rtas 'Vadum gave Thel a questioning look wondering if this was such a good idea to come without the rest of the fleet.

"Brother, if our lives are forfeit I would rather some of the sangheili loyal to me would survive to avenge my ending." Thel replies to Rtas' silent question.

"Arbiter, your words show bravery and honor within you that I have never heard from another sangheili. You have my loyalty now and forever, as shall the sangheili that follow you." Rtas ends his sentence with a respectful nod.

As the Shadow of Intent drifted slowly into docking position within the hangar, engineers and unggoy maintenance crews flooded the area to inspect the ship for damages, which are minimal if any. After the inspection is completed, the Shadow gets an ok from docking command to lower her docking ramps and relieve her crew, though only Thel, Rtas, Usze 'Taham, and N'tho 'Sroam leave the carrier en route to Vadam keep, the very place where Thel, and his family in its entirety, had lived and grown. What a bastard this 'Prophet' was to use this as his base of operations. This made the encounter personal; this meant that Hate must die a harsher death, preceded by torture and pain. While thinking through all the various ways a prophet might die, Thel is stopped by two Honor Guards, their lances crossing over the entrance, one of whom adress Thel, "Arbiter, leave now. If you enter this room, your death is certain. Hate knows you've come for him. Heed my warning."
"Thank you brother, but your warning will be of no consequence to me today. I have already accepted my death, but perhaps I can save the lives of those who follow in my footsteps." Thel's words bring looks of amazement and wonder from the Honor Guards, and looks of betrayal and dismay from his followers.

Once inside, Rtas confronts Thel, using his name for once rather than his title, "Thel, you cannot truly believe what you spoke. My ears must have deceived me, was that truly conviction on your tongue?"

Thel stops and looks his friend in the eyes, "No, there was no deceit. If it means saving my brothers from destruction by the hand of another false Prophet so be it."

Rtas grabs Thel by the shoulders, "You must abandon this way of thinking! We will all make it out of here alive, do you hear me brother? Forget this plan of martyring yourself for your followers!"

Thel shrugs off Rtas hands and turns to face his sentencing, "Were it so easy."

Thel leads his three most trusted brothers into the place of highest honor and loyalty, and also their own possible graves. The four sangheili stand in the center of the large circular room, on both sides is half-empty booths where normally an audience would be sat. Now, just a handful of onlookers, neither against nor for the Arbiter, sit there accompanied by the occasional Honor Guard on duty. The usual High Council seats were removed from their typical locations, replaced by Hate's lone anti-gravity chair. A jiralhanae accompanying him on either side, their race now reserved to guard the Prophets directly due to their larger muscle-mass and weaker minds. Hate glares at the prisoners which walked so readily into his grasp, and addresses them as such.

"Mongrels, you've walked directly into the heart of your enemy, released yourself to my will. You're lives are forfeit; all of you are worthless in the eyes of the universe. You, Arbiter, have chosen the vermin's side. You are dead where you stand, your comrades, however have choices. Will you die with this Heretic, or will you embrace salvation and join my glorious crusade?" Hate eyes down first Thel, then his three companions. Rtas takes several steps forward, speaking for Usze and N'tho as well as himself.

"Your false promises of salvation and plans for Crusade only insult our honor as you offer them to we sangheili before you. Your words fall on deaf ears in this chamber. We are loyal only to the Arbiter." Rtas finishes his short speech with a snarl.

The Prophet, without showing any form of surprise or signs of a change in plans, orders for the four sangheili in front of him to be taken to a prison-room and locked in separate cells so as to lessen the chances of a planned escape. Thel's execution is scheduled for the next day, when the suns are highest in the sky and to be done in the courtyard for any and all audience view. As Thel enters his cell, the familiar electronic hum can be heard, without turning around he knows that he is trapped until his execution.

************************************************************* ****************************************

The Field Master aboard the Shadow of Intent began, very quickly, to lose his patience. The Arbiter had said to wait two days, but he had also mentioned frequent radio-calls, had he not? A'zar 'Shuman was a very paranoid sangheili for his kind, in combat this had saved his skin multiple times, sure. But in situations such as his current assignment, such waiting and watching gnawed his patience and his nerves thin. A'zar knew the Arbiter would be in trouble as soon as he stood foot within Vadam Keep. Opening up comm. within the Shadow of Intent, the ranking Shipmaster gave the order to undock and proceed back to Earth immediately.

"The Arbiter has not returned. We must honor him with our loyalty to his word, we are returning to the human world known simply as Earth."

As the Shadow of Intent's anti-gravity thrusters propel the ship slowly backwards, then up, the several unggoy and engineers outside the ship scatter for cover as they were not yet prepared for the carrier's departing. As the great flag-ship of the Arbiter leaves the atmosphere, sonic booms resonate across the whole of Vadam Keep.

************************************************************* ****************************************

"Did you hear that? Our brothers are leaving us behind. They're honor is worthless and their loyalty broken." Rtas is addressing Thel as he says so, snarling in the end.
"No, my brother they are going along as planned. I hand-chose the Field Master, A'zar for his paranoia and impatience; there was no honor tarnished or loyalties broken today" Thel listens as the last remnants of sound from the Shadow of Intent's departure resonate off of the walls of Vadam Keep.






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:16 AM PDT]

  • 07.04.2009 7:31 PM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Chapter Six: Execution

Thel awoke on the hard, metallic floor of Vadam Keep's dungeon to see the same thing he's seen his entire captivity. Blue, slightly humming energy wall, purplish-pink metallic walls, floor and ceiling, and Rtas still trying to re-assure him that they would escape, his honor would not allow other-wise. But Thel knew the truth, he knew the horrible unmistakable truth; Thel 'Vadamee of the great Vadam keep was to be executed on his own courtyard. Today was the day the first Arbiter would die on his own lands, by his own people, as a traitor to his kind. Thel knew that his death would go down in sanghelios records; he'd be remembered as a villain and not a hero. Within moments, the quiet patter-patter of unggoy feet sidling over to his cell, followed by the heavier sounds of a large sangheili, probably an honor guard, became audible in the somber room of the dungeons. As the unggoy deactivated the containment shield, Thel looked into the Honor Guards face. There was no anger, no hatred, not even fear. There was only pity on the sangheili's face, and compassion, and sorrow. Though the Honor Guard obviously felt these emotions for the arbiter, there was no emotion in his voice as he spoke the bone-chilling words. "It is time, Arbiter. You have shamed the Covenant and the Holy Prophet has declared you a traitor. Come, your execution is nigh." Thel holds out his arms as the unggoy inch slowly forward trying not to touch the intimidating creature before them, binding him in similar cuffs to the ones he wore when branded by the ruthless jiralhanae Tartarus, as ordered by the prophets before being deemed Arbiter. Thel is lead down the walk of the doomed, knowing that his impending death lay at the end of his path.

************************************************************* ****************************************

Rtas watched as his ally, his brother, the very sangheili he had built an honor-bond with, was taken from his cell, cuffed, and lead out of the dungeon. The Shipmaster could do no more but pound on the impenetrable force field in front of him, creating a concussion across the barrier and blue flashes of light with each smash of his fist. Rtas screamed in rage as this great war hero of Sanghelios was being lead to his death in the very courtyard the two had learned to sword-fight and hone their abilities. As Rtas was about to turn his back and move deeper into his cell, a loud banging came from over head, then the sound of slicing metal. Rtas moved back to his force shield to get a good look at what was happening about. A very loud electronic hum resounded from above, the force shield between the ceiling and the floor above was deactivated, what was going on? Sparks erupted from the ceiling and small chunks of metal began to be chipped away, someone was coming through, but this was impossible. The dungeons of Vadam Keep were impenetrable, let alone through the ceiling! However, Rtas watched, as did Usze and N'tho in their chambers across from the Shipmaster. A bright bluish green light erupted from the growing hole causing a chunk of ceiling to crash on the floor with a resounding thud; Rtas squinted to see who the visitors were as four figures around five feet tall lowered themselves into the dungeons, supported by a rope and pulley system of some form.

************************************************************* ****************************************

Thel averted his gaze from the surrounding audience, ashamed that they should see their once-great hero in this state; never to be recorded as a hero, but as a traitor and prisoner. Thel was the very first Arbiter to be imprisoned and executed as a traitor to his people. History would not be kind with his name or his status. His family would be shamed and dethroned from all of Vadam. His own country would fall under the leadership of another family, or fall to the might of a neighboring nation. Either way, Thel knew that the ending of his life was nigh, as well as the end of the family of Vadam as a family of high status. In the distance, Thel could see Hate upon his chair, glaring, practically foaming at the mouth, at the sangheili who had killed Truth, Regret, Mercy he would be slain and dishonored here in the courtyard of his own family, for his whole race to witness. Thel watched as a large jiralhanae, the one known as Pragarus, wielded a large metallic staff. Pragarus slammed the staff onto the metallic stage he stood upon which activated dual curved blades on one end, similar to axes used by human executioners, Thel reflected, and wielded his weapon with both hands, roaring above the crowd so the Arbiter would recognize his already bespoken doom.

************************************************************* ****************************************

As the dust settled, and the sound of metal crashing upon metal resonated and was gone, the sight before his eyes awed Rtas. Four human Special Operations soldiers, commonly known as the human ODST, stood in the center of the room. One of which held a special saw with energy-weapon teeth built into the chain of the device. As the ODSTs disconnected the zip lines attached at their belts, the one with a red stripe across his arm ordered the others to deactivate the containment shields. After which, Rtas addressed the leader directly.

"Human, your kind has shown great loyalty and un-surpassed honor this day. You have come in an attempt to rescue the Arbiter, am I not correct?" Rtas takes the proffered weapon, a Plasma Rifle, from the sergeant, Usze and N'tho do similarly with their corresponding rescuers.

"Yeah, that's the plan. Where is he, we couldn't see him outside the structure, and he's sure as hell not in here." The sergeant swaps out his silenced M7 for the silenced BR55 hung on his back.

Rtas nods at the ODST sergeant, "The Arbiter is being lead to his execution. Come, human, make haste if we are to rescue him." Rtas leads Usze and N'tho out the door, the four ODST all wield their silenced BR55s and follow the four sangheili.

Down the corridor leading from the Dungeon are two Honor Guard soldiers with their backs to the containment cells. The ODSTs take point, quickly dispatching the two enemies with their combined attack. Two lifeless Elites sink to the floor, lances falling to the ground with a dull metallic thud. The group of insurgents moves farther down the hallway, finding an exit out to the courtyard. There are four jiralhanae standing there, who all turn towards their new play-things smiling devilishly. It's the Sangheili's turn. Focusing all their fire upon the same Brute, the three sangheili pick them off one-by-one, leaving the smell of charred flesh as the cooked bodies begin to cool.

"We must make haste," Rtas orders, "We haven't much time for more of these conflicts; the Arbiter will have died at any moment if we tarry here much longer!"

The group of seven rush down the remaining several feet of the corridor, out into the bright light of the three suns of Sanghelios. The sight they witness is one of sorrow, defeat, hatred, and failure the Arbiter is being stripped of his armor, publically de-ranked and treated as a heretic. The Prophet moves forward inscribing with a small energy dagger Forerunner runes of hatred and anger into Thel's skin, fresh purple blood flowing from the wounds. Thel is forced by his energy-bonds to kneel before a small pedestal and places his head across the metallic stand. The large Brute Pragarus stands beside Thel 'Vadam, slightly grinning as he prepares his death-blow. Pragarus lifts the large energy-weapon above Thel's neck, everything seeming to go in slow motion. Rtas bellows a scream of anger and rage, trying to charge forth, but is held back by Usze and N'tho, who are saddened by the sight, but do not wish to die. Thel turns his head slightly so that he may watch his comrades' hurting faces and tortured looks, how ironic when he is the one being executed, for them to be tortured. As Pragarus lifts the axe again, taking steady aim, Thel stares at the human Special Operations soldiers standing with his own brothers, and for the first time witnessed by a human, a single tear drops from the former Arbiter's eye. As the axe flies downwards upon the Arbiter, the sounds of thin skin slicing, bones cracking, and cartilage tearing, Rtas lets out another bellow of anger and hatred, this time tinged with pain. Knowing that their mission was a failure, the ODSTs provide cover for the Elites as they make their way back inside, Hate's Honor Guard now making a straight line for the mixed group of sangheili and human soldiers.






[Edited on 07.06.2009 10:16 AM PDT]

  • 07.05.2009 8:25 AM PDT

Yeah. I'm back. Whatcha gonna do about it?

Part 7: Finesse and Pain

A week has gone by since Blake had been saved by this small contingent of Elites. How strange that his greatest current enemy, and possibly only ally, were one and the same. After his ribs had set, he and Bart began sparring in the spacious cave to better hone Blake's hand-to-hand abilities. Never has anyone hit Blake as hard as Bart could; the force of impact always making him stumble and rub location of Bart's well-aimed jabs. The rest of Blake's training included advanced Energy and Plasma weapon combat techniques which were taught to him by Blu' Taughon. He had dropped the double 'e', according to him, because he refused to have that reminder of his days in the Covenant hanging over his head. As Blake's finesses began to expand beyond those of an ordinary mechanic, Bart's skills exploded in comparison. As Blake became a master, Bart was an expert in any and all the skills taught by the Elites. Bart began to throw farther, punch faster, move faster, and his marksman ship was always on-point, never missing a target.

As Blake prepared for his training regiment for the day, climbing the cliff-face barefoot and gloveless, a distraught Elite rushed out of the cave entrance yelling for all to come and listen to the comm. radio inside. As Blake drew nearer, he could make out words in Sangheili that Blu' quickly translated for the humans in the cave, "Thel' Vadam is dead this day. I, A'zar 'Shuman, was given orders to return to the human home-world. I bear grim news: a new Prophet has indoctrinated the whole of our home, Sangheilios! Our peoples are under the influence of this false Prophet of the Gods and his covenant. The un-holy fiend declares a Crusade against human life. The Arbiter declared we must take arms to protect the humans, so be ready, my brothers. This will be a war not soon forgotten."

The last words rung out in Blake's ears as fear and anger coincided within his body, causing him to lose strength and his knees buckle. Blake sinks to the floor, staring at a small brown spot surrounded by larger beige spots. Voice of anger and fear filled the cave, though incoherent to Blake at the moment. All Blake could think about was the doom that would surely follow in the footsteps of the horrid message. Tearing up, Blake sat there for several more moments before a rough hand shook his shoulder, pulling him out of his somber meditation. Blake looked up into Bart's face, who gestured towards the cave entrance for Blake to meet him there, and walked off. Unable to move he just sat on the floor staring at the spots until he was afraid madness would grip his mind and not let go. Blake walked out into the bright sun to speak with his comrade and friend.

"Things aren't looking too good, are they?" Bart said while watching a patch of white clouds drift peacefully by. "A whole planet's worth of soldiers now at Hate's disposal, not to mention what multitudes of races he may have brought with him in his 'Great Crusade'."

Blake just stared at the floor for several minutes after Bart stopped talking, trying to get his thoughts together. A whole planet, plus whatever other races Hate had at his disposal? "Bart, do you think we'll make it out of this alive? Our last Spartan is gone, lost somewhere in space and no one knows where he's at. I've always been sure as long as Master Chief was around to protect us. Now, I don't know what to think."

Bart grew suddenly angry with Blake and forced him to look into his eyes, "Look, we don't need a Spartan to save us. The human race is strong enough without genetic alterations, clones, drugs, or anything! Our race survived an onslaught against the Covenant before without help. Now, we have allies whom we probably don't even need. As far as I'm concerned I'm glad that tin-can is lost in space. The Human race can now show what we're capable of without gene-splicing or anything of the sort." Bart pushed past Blake and proceeded back into the cave to speak with Blu'.

Blake falls back onto his haunches and looks up into the peaceful skies of Omega II, unable to get the idea of doom and certain death from his mind. Blake falls backwards and slowly drifts off to sleep as the worry eats away at his consciousness.

************************************************************* ****************************************

When Blake awoke, he found that the suns have fallen over the horizon leaving an eerie purple glow over the landscape as Twilight settled in. Blake sat up, listening to the sounds of crickets and the faint growls and roars of distant predators hunting in the night. A faint, though closer, growling made itself audible from within Blake's bowels. He hadn't eaten all day after hearing the news from the Shadow of Intent's recorded message as it passed by Omega II, en route for Earth. He then stood and entered the cave and made his way over to the pouch with rations and water. His meal in hand, Blake made his way to a corner of the cave and sat down intent on eating. After a moment, he could hear voices echoing off the walls of the cave as Bart and the large Elite, Zar', conversed over a plan of action.

"My brothers are scattered among your colonies. They must be united if we are to survive this conflict." Zar's commanding voice spoke out in frustration.

"You expect me and Blake to do this alone? I may have a strong ancestry but that does not mean I'm as strong as an Elite Major. I'm sure the whole of this fight will not be against Minors."

"This is true Human, yet your strength and prowess would gain you honor even among Sangheili ranks. How did you manage to hide your lineage from your race for so long? You are an oddity of the universe."

Bart's voice grew quiet at this point as he opted to speak to the Elites in their native tongue with such fluidity, Blake could not believe his ears. But Blake knew that the voice belonged to Bart, even in the guttural snarling and growling of the Sangheili language. Sounds of shuffling feet and voices getting louder caused Blake to finish his meal quickly and act as though checking his equipment. As Bart and the Elites entered the room, Blake looked up and addressed the group with a nod. The Elites returned Blake's greeting with a respectful nod of their own and went on their way to scout and hunt for a meal. Once the Elites had all left, Bart made his way over to where Blake was standing and laid a hand on his shoulder before saying, "Well, looks like we're going to be out of this cave soon. The Elites are looking to commandeer a ship for us so that we may gather forces and equipment before heading to Earth."

Blake simply nodded at his compatriot that he understood, trying his best to look calm and collected while in reality thoughts of betrayal and confusion rushed through his mind. This man who Blake had befriended had some sort of secret lineage that made him strong enough to equal a small Elite, probably stop any human with brute force alone. What about this man made him so much different from a normal human, what made him so much more powerful than most of his races yet still despise Spartans? Blake watched as his friend walked to the corner of the cave where his bunk was made-up, lying down with his back faced towards the center of the cave. Blake shuffled over to where his own bunk took up residence and laid similarly to Bart, unable to stop the thoughts racing within his head. Inaudible to anyone else, Blake whispered out loud, "What is that man?" Before he closed his eyes and drifted off into a restless sleep.

  • 07.06.2009 10:17 AM PDT