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Subject: [Story] Relocated, simple right?

*Chapter 1*

The Spartan III squad was used as a "fire and forget." However, unlike other squads of Spartan III's, this original squad has survived from basic training. Now they are positioned on a Covenant ship, hoping to find High Charities location.

"Mac! How much longer till you pull the data!" yelled Petty officer Stallone.

"Give me about three more minutes than the data will be transferred!"

"You heard him, three minutes" ordered Stallone, "hold the covenant S.O.B's till then."

The squad of four moved out, taking position.
Anna, the sniper, taking defensive position behind a dark blue column in the middle of the corner, Max, to the left of her with grenades in hand, Felix, taking the nearest position near Mac, and Lucas, taking the final opening. It was quite know, the calm before the storm. Bodies of dead jackals, elites, brutes, and grunts laid scattered on the purple floor. Stillness, uneasiness, just silence. Then, the pitter patter of feet, walking, then slowly growing to a jog, till the enemy was seen. A pack of skirmishers, with needle rifles at bare, aimed, and fired its pinkish, purplish plasma at the squad. Anna opened up first, taking out one in the body, then another in the head, two down, seven to go. Max threw the grenade, it bounced, then exploded, three were caught in the explosion, the rest dived out of the way. Felix and Lucas opened fire with their assault rifles, gunning down the rest.

"Two minutes!" yelled Mac over the gunfire. Even though they have taken out the skirmishers, they were soon flanked, one blue plasma bolt, missed Lucas' head by inches, the second, one, hit his gut, the third, his back, depleting his shields. He took cover, the beeping ringing in his ear. Anna turned around to, taking cover right behind him, shooting twice, then reloading. Felix unloading his Assault rifle, and Max, arming another grenade, his DMR in his other hand.

"Done! Lets get out of here!" said Mac, checking his DMR's ammo. The squad fell back, the elites in their wake.

"Party favors?" requested Lucas, Felix nodded, cocked three grenades, as well as Lucas, and tossed them. The Elite stepped right on them, his shields flared, died, and his lifeless body dropped into the crater left behind. The hanger bay was huge. Three stores tall and over three covenant spirit ships wide. The pelican that took them inside was under siege. Green plasma struck the hull of it. Zeta squad opened fired on the assaulters, many grunts and elites with a pair of hunters. Picking off grunts first, the squad slowly moved forward, dodging plasma bolts. And in a loud bang, the pelican exploded and melted away from the plasma's heat.

"Pilots dead" said Max

"No -blam!- Sherlock!" scolded Anna

"Enough, let's move, we can grab one of the spirits" ordered Felix. The squad moved, knowing full well that the covenant would be firing on them soon. The shooting stopped, silence filled the hanger. Then as it came so fast, it ended as quickly as it did. A golden elite, dropped down, pinning Felix under its foot, and stabbed him in the chest. The squad opened fired, their bullets bouncing off the alien's shield, then with a lunged, beheaded Max, it's blade cauterizing the flesh, making it impossible to bleed. The squad ran for the spirit, Anna opening fire with her sniper rifle, was caught in the blast of the elite's plasma grenade.
Mac turned "Lucas, take the data! I'll hold him off!"
"No, get in we can make it!"
"No, he's too fast" responded Mac, putting the data pad in Lucas' hand. Lucas boarded the ship, as Mac turned to face the elite. Lucas started the spirit, it hovered inside it's gravitational lock, then started to fly forward. As the ship left the hanger, a small blip made it on his motion tracker. He ducked, the elite's sword missing him by inches. Lucas rolled, trying to recover and pull out his assault rifle. He didn't have time. The elite was on him again, taking another slash at him. Lucas leapt backwards to avoid the blade, the tip of the blade, scrapping against his chest plate, melting it away. His shields flared, and died. Lucas gained his footing again. And as the elite prepared to make its final blow, Lucas stepped forward. He ducked, under the elites right arm as it slashed again. He grabbed the top of the elite's armor, using its leg as a step up. He unhooked his SMG, and unloaded a full clip behind the elites head. The shields flared, but the elite did not die. Lucas reached for his knife, placed it on the elite's neck, and pulled. The elite gagged for air, and slowly died. Lucas, the last Spartan of Zeta squad, set the spirit's computer to the rendezvous with the U.N.S.C. Super Carrier Martyrdom. He was the last one of his squad.

Prologue

[Edited on 04.12.2010 4:07 PM PDT]

  • 04.12.2010 4:06 PM PDT