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  • Subject: The Forgotten Spartan
Subject: The Forgotten Spartan
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

For the record, this is a fanfiction story that I wrote, it has no official connection to Bungie, it is merely my story.


PROLOGUE

0800 Hours, December 17, 2514(Military Calendar)
/Epsilon Eridani System, planet Reach

UNSC Priority Transmission
076452B-74
Encryption Code: Red
Public Key: file/access Delta
From: ONI Section Three
To: Dr. Catherine Halsey M.D., Ph.D., Civilian
Consultant (CIN: 10141-026-SRB4695)
Subject: SPARTAN/Approval
Classification: Restricted


/Start File/

Dr. Halsey,

Project SPARTAN green lighted. SPARTAN I Augmentation To take place 10 years after this transmission. Any Recruit you Request Will Be Yours.











CHAPTER ONE






1700 Hours December 17, 2524 (Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, ONI Medical Facility, in
Orbit around Planet Reach


The Cryopod doors opened, and Dr. Halsey walked into the room. The pods were lined up along the wall and various tubes connected to them. The Doctor’s heels clicked loudly on the tile floor as she walked towards the pods. The man in the pod on the left stumbled out and fell on his hands and knees. His physique was perfect, “good” she said to her self as she turned to face him.
“Congratulations Lieutenant,” she said, “ You’re the only survivor.” The man started to choke and his hands slipped. He fell on his face and slipped into unconsciousness.

0800 Hours December 27,2524 (Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Hawthorne Medical Facility,
Planet Reach



First Lieutenant Matthew Simmons awoke on a hospital bed. His vision was blurred, but he could see that he was hooked up to several machines and I.V.s. outside the room’s window was DR. Halsey conversing with a Doctor, Simmons marveled at her intelligence, she was the reason he agreed to be in this program at all. The woman was brilliant, and there was something unexplainable that attracted Simmons to her. His thoughts were interrupted by Halsey’s entrance.
“ How are you Lieutenant?” She asked.
“Fine,” he replied, they both new this was a lie, Simmons was in immense pain, his bones ached, all his muscles seemed torn, and he could barely move.
“ Of course you are,” she said mockingly, “ You have been given command of an ODST Platoon on Richter VII, I think you will enjoy it.” Simmons knew that would be trouble, ODSTs were the finest units the Marines had, and they didn’t take to kindly to fresh meat, either. But what had Halsey said, if he survived the Augmentation, which he did, he would be physically altered to have physical prowess to the likes of which he could not imagine. Being hardly able to move, though, was something he could imagine.
“ You will make a full recovery within the week, then you will be transferred to Richter VII aboard the Destroyer Cherokee” Halsey told him.
“ A week!” Simmons shouted, Halsey was not startled at all, “ I’m not waiting a week,” he told her, as he pulled the I.V.s from his arms, unconnected the machines, and stood up.
“ I would really advise more rest,” Halsey told him.
“ And I would really advise you stow it ma’am, I’m leaving.”
“ Doctor’s orders,” she said Defiantly
“ You’re a civilian, I am a Marine,” he told her as he strode out of the room
“ You may be a marine,” Dr. Halsey said softly “ but more importantly you’re a Spartan.”


Chapter Two


0800 Hours January 3, 2525 (Military Calendar)
Aboard UNSC Destroyer Cherokee en route to
Richter VII



Simmons had made a “full recovery” all right, could run over 50 KPH, and he had always been a slow runner before. He could also lift around eight hundred pounds. Everything seemed slow to him, too, like he was watching the world at half-speed. He marveled at his muscle mass and reflexes. He went to the gym aboard the Cherokee every day, went down to the section that was rotating at two Gs and would work out for hours. He also studied tactics and reviewed ancient battles; he would be ready to lead his platoon for sure. The only thing that bothered him about his new life was the fact that he was alone; he was the only survivor. His wished some of the others had survived. His best friend from the academy had been in the pod next to him, Dr. Halsey said the Augmentation went too fast, and his brain over loaded from all the change. She also said she was happy with the results. How? Nineteen men died, one survived, how were those good results? The Doctor must have had her reasons, she always did, but Simmons did not know what her reasons for this could have been, how had she helped humanity at all? Simmons pondered this for days, he refused to go into Cryo, and was therefore left with ten days to do nothing but think, work out and dread the day they would arrive at Richter VII.

On the Day they were scheduled to arrive on Richter VII Simmons went to visit Major Sullivan, he was the executive officer of the Battalion of ODSTs stationed on the Cherokee. Sullivan had been a teacher at the Marine Academy At Quantico on Earth, and Taught Simmons for two years. Simmons wanted to ask him for advice on how to lead the hostile men in his charge; he wanted advice you couldn’t get in a book. As he took the elevator to the Major’s quarters he contemplated why the man had given up his teaching post for field duty, was he itching for combat, or sick of fresh officers asking him for advice on Marine life? He hoped it was the first one as he knocked on the Major’s door.
“ Enter,” said a grizzly voice, Simmons remembered it as the Major’s. He opened the door and walked in. Sullivan had put in wood paneling and pictures of HEV pods dropping were hanging on the wall. It smelled of smoke, which was of course against regulations, but if anyone dared tell that to the Major, they would regret it during their Hospital stay. The Major’s voice wasn’t the only thing grizzly about him, he was 6’5, all muscle and looked as though he weighed three hundred pounds, At first Simmons felt threatened, then he remembered that he could lift Sullivan over his head and throw him through the door, and he straightened up. Sullivan was looking over a data pad, then looked up at Simmons, he had a scar streaking down his left cheek that was not there when he left Quantico, his once slick black hair now contained streaks of gray. He had aged a lot since he had been transferred to the Cherokee and made a dozen drops into rebel territory.
“ Can I help you, Lieutenant?” He said, glancing over his data pad once more
“ I hope so, Sir, I was hoping for advice on leadership now that I am going to lead a platoon of my own, Sir.” Sullivan dropped his data pad and got up from his desk, and walked around Simmons, surveying him, he stopped in front of him; he apparently liked what he saw.
“ I’ve heard things about you Simmons, men say you can lift 800 pounds, that’s not human, what do you have to say about that?”
“ Nothing, Sir,” Simmons knew that project SPARTAN was classified.
“ So you admit it then?” the Major said inquisitively.
“ I have changed since the academy, Sir” Simmons said hoping the Major would change subjects, he did.
“ So you want advice, eh? Well I’ll tell you one thing Simmons, show them who boss, remind them it’s you, not their Sergeant, you, can you do that?” the Major asked him.
“ Yes, Sir I can.” Simmons told him.
“ Good, then you’re dismissed, Lieutenant” Simmons saluted Sullivan and exited the room. Show them who’s boss? This was the Marine Corps; his men should already know who’s boss. But Simmons made a note of the advice anyway, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.
Simmons packed his things into a duffel bag, and then slipped into his uniform. He placed his Standard Issue M6C Magnum in its holster, picked up his bag and walked to the hangar. The Cherokee would get in orbit around Richter VII and Simmons’ Pelican Drop ship would go down to the surface on its own. With the planet in such chaos with the recent rebel insurgency, Simmons thought this was a bad idea, one drop ship would be an easy target for rebel anti aircraft.


[Edited on 07.09.2007 3:38 PM PDT]

  • 08.10.2005 2:45 PM PDT
Subject: FanFiction please Read.
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Bungie Crossword Solver.
UNSCDF Supreme Commander

★★★★★
In terms of FPS Games:
PC > Xbox360, PC > PS3.

wow I love it! more if you please! :)

  • 08.10.2005 2:48 PM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

due to critic's acclaim, on the other post ( which has been deleted) i have added more to the story.



Simmons walked into the Cherokee’s Hangar and looked around, there were three pelicans and only five Longsword Fighters, a small force compared to what most UNSC ships carried. He walked to the middle Pelican, which was being prepped for takeoff, he saw three men talking at the rear of the ship, and walked towards them. One of them was the Pilot, the name Charles was printed on his helmet and flight suit. There was a lighting bolt stenciled on his left sleeve, the insignia of the 36th Naval Air Squadron, they were famous for making their drops faster than anyone else. Good, their pilot was assured to be talented at evasive maneuvers, they would need that. The pilot was talking to a an ODST named O’Donnell, he was a lance corporal, and seemed intrigued when Simmons arrived.
“ You the Lieutenant goin’ down to the surface?” the pilot asked.
“ Yes, I am,” Simmons told him. Next the third man, a colonel, spoke up
“ Then I believe we are ready to takeoff, Warrant Officer,” the senior officer told the pilot. Simmons could not believe he had not realized the man was an officer, and snapped a quick salute, which the colonel returned, seemingly indifferent to the breach in etiquette. The Warrant Officer walked into the Cockpit of the Drop ship, and the Colonel and O’Donnell strapped themselves into their crash seats, Simmons followed suit and two Maintenance personnel shut the back hatch, which hissed violently, signaling Atmosphere pressurization. A voice came from the cockpit, seemingly the Copilot’s, “ Welcome to UNSC space lines flight 4311, one way to Richter VII , there will be no in-flight movie, or in-flight meal, and no Stewardess’ are onboard. We hope you enjoy you’re flight.” The Copilot’s mocking tone echoed through the back of the Drop ship as the Lance Corporal cracked a smile, it quickly faded away, as the Drop ship entered Richter VII’s Atmosphere, and the pelican started shaking violently. “ We are now experiencing some turbulence, if there was a seat belt sign it would be turned on, so just don’t get up,” the Copilot shouted back to them. O’Donnell turned to Simmons and looked inquisitively.
“ Something wrong, Lance Corporal?” Simmons asked him.
“ No, Sir, it’s just I believe you’ve been assigned to my unit, Sir,” O’Donnell told him; he had a thick Scottish accent.
“ Well I believe you’re correct, but I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you,” Simmons told him. O’Donnell had thick Brown hair, and his nose appeared to have been broken several times.
“ Well, I just, I’ve heard stories, Sir, I was in Cryo the whole time, but people tell me you work out like a machine, that you go to two G’s and lift for hours, no one can do that.” O’Donnell told him, he seemed to be bursting a bubble inside him, and his feelings flowed uncontrollably, a bad sign in a Marine, let alone an ODST.
“ Well I won’t lie to you, O’Donnell, I am not weak, and yes I did work out many times this past voyage, but I don’t believe I am a machine.” Simmons said flatly, O’Donnell looked satisfied, but Simmons knew he wasn’t. The turbulence stopped, and the Pelican ride became smoother. The Copilot’s voice sounded again, “ We are about thirty minutes out, and will begin taking evasive maneuvers in ten minutes, if we survive, it should stop in about five minutes.” Simmons hoped he was joking. He wasn’t. They heard flak blast around them, the Pelican moved nimbly between it. The Pilot was certainly talented, and he seemed to be so in control that he could will the flak out of their way. Simmons admired this. He wondered if his Brother, a member of the Twenty-Third Naval Air Squadron, was this good, his brother had been a pilot for three years, and knew nothing of Simmons’ status as a Spartan. Neither did his uncle, Captain of the UNSC frigate Antitem. Simmons could never tell them about SPARTAN, but he knew if they met in person, they would be suspicious.
The flak stopped and the ride became smoother, Simmons estimated another fifteen minutes until they reached Camp Ulysses, where he was stationed. Simmons dreaded the landing, he wasn’t fully prepared to meet his Platoon, and the Major’s advice didn’t help. But Simmons knew it would come, and tried to occupy him self with his duffel bag, which had become loose. He reattached it to its hook, then looked at its contents, his spared uniform, clips for his sidearm, and a data pad of information on his platoon. He turned it on and glanced over their surface records, O’Donnell’s was last, it seemed he was to lead Simmons demolitions squad, O’Donnell didn’t seem that type, but Simmons knew not to question HighCom assignments.
The Pelican touched down at Camp Ulysses, and the three men exited the back hatch, after being quickly refueled, the Pelican took off. The Colonel walked towards the camp’s Headquarters and O’Donnell started walking towards his barracks, where the rest of Simmons platoon was. Simmons walked to the officers’ quarters and entered his room. The floor was wood paneled, and the entire room smelled of wood stain. It was bare except a cot in one corner, and a dresser in the adjacent corner. Simmons placed his spare Fatigues in the dresser, put his spare ammunition one his belt, and threw his duffel under the Cot, then walked out of the room. He went to headquarters and was given his orders and a Warthog then explored the base in his new Light Reconnaissance Vehicle. The Base was positioned at the foot of a tall mountain, which had many tunnels that were once old mines, now used for storage and a fallback position, in case of overwhelming attack. Simmons doubted that all the Rebels in the UNSC combined could take this camp, which had a Regiment of ODSTs, an entire Naval Air Squadron, and fifteen scorpion tanks, not to mention almost three thousand regular Marines. Simmons doubted that Ulysses would ever fall to the enemy.

  • 08.11.2005 5:09 AM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

No one else has replied, but i wrote another chapter so here it is- ( and no, Simmons Is not -blam!-

Chapter Three



0700 Hours, January 15, 2525 (Military Calendar)/
Richter System, Planet Richter VII, Camp Ulysses



Simmons Walked up to his Platoon’s barracks, outside were two MPs. As he walked up they asked for his identification, Simmons knew you didn’t need identification to enter a barracks and became suspicious. He noticed they had no insignia, and knew it was a trap. He acted like he was reaching for his papers, and then smacked the first man in the jaw, which shattered, and the man fell to the ground unconscious. The second man attempted to un-holster his weapon. Simmons grabbed his wrist and twisted, breaking the man’s bones. Simmons grabbed the discarded pistol and pressed the barrel of the gun to the man’s chin. “Explain yourself!” he roared. Before the trembling man could answer the door opened and a Sergeant walked out. His dark black skin reflected the sunlight like a mirror. The name Dominique was stitched on his fatigues. Simmons turned to him, his temper flaring. “ Why was I attacked?” He demanded.
“ Looks to me like you did all the attacking,” the Sergeant said jokingly. Simmons dropped the ODST and pointed the gun at the Sergeant.
“Answer my question, soldier,” Simmons said
“ It just our way of saying hello,” the Sergeant said jokingly, a crowd had gathered behind him.
“ Let me show you mine,” Simmons said, he dropped the pistol and punched the sergeant hard. He flew back into the arms of a Private. “ And you don’t want to see how I say goodbye,” Simmons told him, this time cracking a smile.

Simmons walked back to his quarters and got out his data pad, there was a message on it.

UNSC Transmission 23445D-65
Encryption Code: Green
Public Key: File /excised access Charlie
From: Colonel Hastert, CO Camp Ulysses
To: First Lieutenant Matthew Simmons
Subject: First Mission


/Start file/
Lieutenant you first mission will take place tomorrow at
0300 hours. You will be briefed at 0100 Hours at
Briefing Room 1

/End file/


0300 Hours, January 16, (Military Calendar)
Richter System, Planet Richter VII, Outskirts Of Camp
Ulysses


Simmons dropped one more clip of ammunition for his MA5B Assault Rifle into his backpack before slipping it on. Then he got in the passenger seat of his Warthog and inspected his rifle. Most of the men seemed unhappy that they were not dropping in HEV pods, Simmons didn’t know why; they were unsafe and apparently very uncomfortable. Lance Corporal O’Donnell jumped into the Driver’s seat, and Private Hanks got into the gunner’s position. Simmons put on his helmet and his HUD flickered to life. He had a motion tracker, an ammunition counter and five acknowledgment lights, one for every squad leader and his Sergeant.
“ Status,” Simmons said, and the five lights turned blue, then faded into darkness. Simmons’ mission was to ride into a known rebel hideout, capture a rebel operative and bring him back to base. There were ten regular warthogs with three men each, the other twenty men piled into two “pickup” warthogs with extended beds that sat twelve each, these warthogs would carry the prisoner. Simmons watch showed 0301 Hours, and it was time to go. “Let’s roll!” he said to O’Donnell, who then put his foot on the accelerator and the convoy followed. Simmons marveled at what a force he had with him, as the dust from the tires flew into a cloud above them and drifted into the morning sky. The chain guns on these vehicles were enough firepower to blanket an area big enough to clear an LZ that would fit land fives pelicans with ease, which could add over a hundred men to the battle, but Simmons knew that wouldn’t be necessary, this mission was a milk run.
They drove for over an hour and the sun was starting to rise. They arrive at the staging area one mile from the rebel campsite. Simmons opened a COM channel to his squad leaders. “All right, its show time, Blue team are you in position?” he asked, the first light winked. “ Green team?” another light flicked on “Red team?” the third and fourth lights blinked blue. “Then that just leaves us O’Donnell,” are we in position?”
“ Yes, Sir, we are,” O’Donnell told him. Simmons clicked his COM three times; the signal to start, and twelve engines revved and the convoy drove down the hill towards the small campsite. As they got close Simmons saw a man running for a Jackhammer Rocket Launcher. Hanks thumbed the Chain gun’s trigger and the man was stopped in his tracks by a hail of bullets. Simmons had never seen a man killed before, but he expected it to bother him, this didn’t at all, which surprised him. When they reached the camp Simmons jumped out as O’Donnell turned to Circle the base. He thumbed the safety off and fingered the trigger. He turned to see a man picking up the Jackhammer, Simmons pulled the trigger and three bullets tore through the man’s chest, Simmons’ first kill, he was again not affected. He scanned the site, the warthogs had created a perimeter and the pinned down rebels were stuck inside it. Simmons looked for the Rebel leader they were after, he had picked up and out dated M4B rifle and was aiming at O’Donnell, Simmons was forced to shoot, he quickly pulled the trigger, a single bullet escaped the barrel and hurtled toward the man. It impacted in his shoulder and he dropped the rifle screaming in pain. Simmons ran toward him through the crossfire. He leapt over a body and landed at the man’s feet, he pulled him up and turned him around. The man let out another scream as Simmons handcuffed him. Two men ran over to him. Their Friend or Foe tags on Simmons’ HUD identified them as Private Brock and Corporal Grange. They dragged the Rebel to their Pickup Warthog and threw him in. Simmons clicked his COM three times again; the signal to get out of there. O’Donnell drove towards him and Simmons jumped in.
Simmons felt strange during the drive back. Not because he was affected by the battle, but rather because he wasn’t, combat was supposed to change a man, why hadn’t he felt any remorse or adrenaline rush. Then he remembered the Spartan program, he had been through too much already to be affected by this. Shrugging this off he opened a COM channel to Sergeant Dominique. “ Wounded count, Sergeant,” he said
“ Absolutely zero, except for the bite I received from our prisoner,” he chuckled, “ it was a perfect mission, Sir,” the Sergeant told him. A perfect Mission? What about the rebel casualties, weren’t they men all the same, why were they doomed to die. Simmons decided to leave that one to the Philosophers and congratulate himself, instead. He turned to O’Donnell as they got back and smiled, O’Donnell smiled as well, Simmons felt much more satisfied.


[Edited on 10/10/2005]

  • 08.11.2005 9:47 AM PDT
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Bungie Crossword Solver.
UNSCDF Supreme Commander

★★★★★
In terms of FPS Games:
PC > Xbox360, PC > PS3.

Thats really good, hope to see the next chapter soon!

  • 08.11.2005 11:40 AM PDT
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Yeah, its really good so far, the only thing i can see so far is that "O'Donnel" is an Irish Name, not Scottish, the Scottish Equivalent would be "McDonnel" or "McDonald", but thats really a nitpick, its really good.

Regards,
Ronnie

  • 08.11.2005 11:51 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

thanks for your support, i hope to have the new chapter( if not more) by tommorrow, because writing this is all i am doin, so keep tuning in, please.



[Edited on 9/24/2005]

  • 08.11.2005 12:21 PM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

Chapter Four

1900 Hours, January 16, 2525 (Military Calendar),
Richter System, Richter VII, Camp Ulysses Brig


Simmons first mission was a complete success. He was commemorated with the Combat Action ribbon, and the UNSC oversystem service ribbon, he wore them proudly as he walked into the Camp’s brig. He was checked by two MPs before entering, and then two more once inside. The brig usually had about ten MPs on duty. Today there were at least thirty. And they were all armed with both MA2B assault rifles and M6C pistols. Simmons passed into the interrogation room. There were two ONI officers and three MPs. “ You requested my presence, Sir,” he said to the senior ONI, a Captain.
“ Are you the man who was in charge of the raid at 0300 Hours?” he asked
“ Yes, sir” Simmons told him.
“ Figures,” the other ONI, a Lieutenant, said. Simmons forgot about etiquette and turned to the man.
“ What does that mean?” Simmons asked him. The senior officer threw the other man a cold look.
“ It means nothing Lieutenant,” the Captain said. “ Now we are here to interrogate this prisoner and I would like to do so” he said, turning to the rebel. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and his long black hair was tangled and matted. Simmons knew just by looking at him that he hated this man instantly. “ Do you mind telling me why this man, who was supposed to captured without personal injury was shot?” the Captain asked Simmons.
“ The blame is mine, he was about to shoot one of my men, and I was forced to act,” Simmons said, he thought he had done the right thing during the firefight, but this man said he did not. The Lieutenant in the corner s-blam!-ed again.
“ Lieutenant if it need be I can have you thrown from this room, and placed in a cell of your own,” the Captain said, this time to the ONI officer. The man coughed and straightened up. “ Now, Mr. Depp,” the Captain said, turning to the rebel. “ Do you mind telling me, oh, I know its so clichéd, where is the rebel base, and what are your secret plans?” The man gave a mirthless laugh, and looked straight at the Captain, “ Our base is everywhere,” he said, smiling, “ and our plans are to shoot anything with the letters UNSC on them,” the man said, now cackling. The Captain smacked the man in the face, and he stopped smiling.
“ Be more specific, please,” he told the rebel. Simmons looked with interest on the scene at hand, had he not just seen harassment, then again, did this man deserve more than what he was receiving. “ Lieutenant,” the Captain said to Simmons, “ You’re services are no longer needed,” he said, as two of the MPs came towards Simmons. He shrugged them off with ease and walked towards the door.
Simmons sat on his cot reviewing the briefing he was given before his mission. Nowhere did it say Depp could not be harmed, only that he was wanted alive. Why had the officer in the brig been concerned if no one else was? Just than Simmons heard a loud thump, as though an explosion had occurred on the base. But no such tests were scheduled today. Reacting instinctively, Simmons grabbed his M6C off his dresser and holstered it, and he ran out of his barracks towards the explosion. He sprinted faster than anyone else, and arrived there first. Two rebels had set off an antitank mine and where now fleeing. Simmons grabbed his sidearm and cocked it. He aimed, and shot the man on the left in the calf, he stopped running and fell, clutching his leg. Simmons remembered what the ONI Captain had said about personal injury to prisoners, and decided to chase the second man. The rebel had about a two hundred meter head start, it didn’t take Simmons more than half a minute before he overtook the man and brought him to the ground. He pinned him and looked around for the other rebel, he was about fifty yards back and being taken to the brig by two MPs. Simmons saw two more MPs running towards him and he let the rebel go. The MPs took the prisoner away, and Simmons started towards his barracks. Before he arrived there O’Donnell ran up to him.
“ You’re wanted at headquarters, Sir,” O’Donnell told him.
“ Thanks,” Simmons said to him as he rushed towards his Warthog, he hoped in the driver’s seat and drove towards Headquarters. Headquarters was a large building hewn into the side of Mount Ulysses. It looked like an oversized barracks from the outside, but inside there were five meters of Titanium A Plating on the walls, and over twenty MPs guarding the single elevator that traveled into the center of mount Ulysses. Simmons had to take a fingerprinting scan, a retinal scan, and a DNA scan before being allowed into the elevator. He was escorted by two of the MPs inside the elevator, which slowly made its ascent.
When the elevator finally stopped he was escorted to the receptions desk. A corporal sat at the desk, she had dark green eyes, and her beautiful long black hair flowed. Simmons suppressed these thoughts; they would lead to nothing but trouble. The MPs left and Simmons handed his identification to her and she signaled him into the room on the left. He walked in and saluted the Colonel sitting at his desk. The room was in half shadow and Simmons could not read the man’s rank or see his face, but the plaque on his desk said Col. Hastert. The Colonel saluted in the shadows and picked up a cigar, he lit it and started to smoke it.
“ You wanted to see me, Sir?” Simmons asked.
“ Yes, I did,” said the Colonel, he leaned out of the shadows and Simmons could see his face, he was the officer who flew down with him on the pelican. “ It turns out your recent mission,” he glanced at Simmons new medals, “ has won you some acclaim,” he told Simmons.
“ The success of the mission lies solely with my men, Sir,” Simmons said.
“ Of course it does,” the Colonel replied, “ but was it not you who captured Depp, were you not the one who stopped any use of rockets against you’re men?” the Colonel asked.
“Well, yes,” Simmons started to contradict him, but he stopped; he saw the Colonel’s point. “Yes, Sir, I was,” Simmons told him.
“ Well than I would say all congratulations should go to you Lieutenant,” the Colonel told Simmons, “ but congratulations are not why you are here. You are here to receive your orders for your next mission. The ONI spooks were able to break Mr. Depp, and we have discovered the location of the rebels operation.”
“ That is good news, Sir, but what does it have to do with my next mission?”
“ It is your next mission, Lieutenant, your platoon is going to drop in to the rebel location, capture the rebel leader, and then kill anything that moves,” the Colonel said, he puffed on his cigar and smoke filled the room. “ Do you understand your mission lieutenant?” he asked as he took another puff.
“ Yes, Sir, I do,” Simmons told him, “ When you say drop?”
“ Yes, Simmons when I say drop I mean HEV pods, you will rendezvous with the UNSC frigate Petersburg and then drop in, you will be picked up by Pelicans and flown back here.” The Colonel pulled open a drawer in his desk. He grabbed a cigar and a data pad. “ This first thing,” he said, indicating the data pad, “ contains all the information you need. The second,” this time indicating the cigar, “ is for a job well done,” he winked, “ and I hope we can enjoy one together soon.” The Colonel puffed his Cigar, “ Dismissed,”
Simmons saluted him and walked out of the room. He took the long journey back to his Warthog and then drove back to his barracks. He pulled his Warthog into its spot and entered the barracks; he slipped out of his dress uniform and placed his M6C on top of his dresser, he got on his cot and went to sleep.

0500 Hours, January 18, (Military Calendar)
Richter System, Richter VII, Camp Ulysses


Simmons awoke as his alarm went off. He dressed quickly and grabbed all his gear. He holstered his M6C and opened the door out of his quarters. He walked to his Warthog, to see O’Donnell and the Sergeant already in the passenger seat and the gunner position.
“All right we can move out,” the Dominique said as Simmons hoped into the driver’s seat and drove towards the airfield. When they arrived they saw five Pelicans being prepped for takeoff. Simmons parked his Warthog at the edge of the airfield and he and Dominique walked towards their Pelican. O’Donnell walked over to his squad’s pelican. The pilot was entering the cockpit, but Simmons could see the name Charles on his flight suit. Simmons and Dominique jumped in to the back of the pelican. He accessed the COM panel at the front of the Pelican’s bay and opened a channel to the other pelicans. “ Is everybody ready for dust off?” he asked.
“ Yes, Sir we are,” O’Donnell said over the COM. The four other squad leaders replied and Simmons gave the Pilot a thumb up through the window into the cockpit. The back hatch closed and they took off. Simmons inspected the drop ship, Dominique was the only other occupant, but there were crates supplies going up to the Petersburg where the other row of crash seats should have been. No voice came from the cockpit. Apparently Charles had received a new copilot. They experienced turbulence again as they went through Richter VII’s atmosphere. Simmons looked through the window to the cockpit. He could see the Petersburg through the front view screen; the four other pelican’s were behind them.
The pelican entered the frigate’s hangar, and the back hatch opened, and three men walked in and started carrying the crates out of the drop ship. Simmons grabbed his gear headed for the Petersburg’s weapons locker.

[Edited on 10/10/2005]

  • 08.14.2005 4:49 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

sorry, the rest didn't fit

[Edited on 8/14/2005]

  • 08.14.2005 4:50 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

He passed through several corridors before entering an elevator. Once it stopped Simmons walked into the weapons locker. It had been upgraded for Simmons’ mission; it contained over one hundred MA5B assault rifles, there were crates of M9 HE-DP fragmentation grenades, and there was a large locker labeled “Rockets”. Simmons walked over to the MA5Bs, he grabbed one that was modified. He attached ten clips to his vest and walked over to the crates of grenades. He attached a few to his belt. He saw an unmarked locker and opened it; there were ten M90 shotguns. Simmons grabbed one and slung it on his back, and then he placed two boxes of shells in his drop bag. Just then the rest of the platoon walked in. most went over to the rack of assault rifles, but some went towards other lockers. O’Donnell walked over to the rockets. He hefted one of the large launchers and grabbed a crate of extra ammunition. He grabbed an MA2B and placed it in his drop bag. Private Hanks walked over to the Lotus anti tank mines. He placed two in his bag, and then grabbed a shotgun. Simmons looked for the platoon’s sniper team. The spotter, Private Sanchez, had a laser sight in one hand, and a MA5B in the other. The Sniper, Private Allison, was customizing his S2 AM sniper rifle. He was the platoon’s only sniper, but he was all they needed, he could make a shot from anywhere. He certainly deserved the call sign “Omnipresent”. Allison seemed happy with his rifle and proceeded to grab an extra M6C and a handful of clips. Dominique walked over to Simmons; he was armed to the teeth. He had an M90 slung on his back, like Simmons, but he also had a Jackhammer rocket launcher, two M6Cs, ample clips of ammunition, and a knife attached to his boot. His drop bag looked like it contained thirty boxes of shotgun shells. Simmons could not believe Dominique could walk. He grabbed a combat knife from the table and handed it to Simmons. “ You might need this,” he told him, be fore departing for the HEV pods. Simmons waited for everyone to clear the weapons locker. What was once enough firepower to supply a small army was now almost empty. There were only have as many rifles, the shotguns were all gone, and the crates of grenades were empty. Simmons walked out of the now deserted room and walked to his HEV pod. Satisfied that everyone was ready, Simmons snapped on his helmet and entered his pod.

[Edited on 8/14/2005]

  • 08.14.2005 4:51 AM PDT
Subject: Chapter 5 is out
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

Chapter 5 is a short one, but here it is


Chapter Five


1000 Hours, May 17, 2523 (Military Calendar)
Sol System, Planet Earth, Quantico Marine Academy



Second Lieutenant Matthew Simmons sat on a low stonewall as he watched the Academy’s freshman walk to their classes. He was playing chess with his best friend, Amacus Ermo. Amacus had been top in their class at everything; no one could beat him. Except at fencing, Amacus was good, but Simmons was the best, he knew his way around a sword. Of course this meant nothing to the professors at the Academy, Amacus was still considered the best recruit since Admiral Cole. Simmons wondered why he had agreed to play chess with Amacus, because he always lost. Simmons looked down at the board, it was made of marble, and the pieces were pure gold. The set had been Amacus’ graduation present, whereas Simmons was given nothing. He didn’t care; his parents were the reason he was a UNSC Marine. They were the reason his brother was a pilot. They both wanted to get away.
Simmons surveyed the board. He moved his knight to take Amacus’ bishop. “Check,” he said, satisfied with the move. Amacus smiled, and then moved his rook and took the knight.
“ Checkmate,” he said with a smile. Simmons let out an explicative that caught the attention of the passerby. He looked away from them and at the board. He tried to figure out a move to escape, but there was none. Simmons had not even seen that rook. Amacus laughed at Simmons feeble attempts to find a move.
“ You may think its funny, but one day I’ll be better than you at something,” Simmons told him, but he didn’t believe it. Amacus put the pieces away and folded up the board. He placed the set in his bag and they walked to the mess hall.
Simmons grabbed his meal and sat down at an available table. Amacus arrived a short time later. Simmons looked over Amacus’ shoulder. There was a girl at the table over; she had long black hair, and emerald eyes. Amacus turned around to see what Simmons was looking at. When he saw the girl he smiled and turned to Simmons,
“ Thoughts like that will get you in trouble, my friend,” he said warningly. A boy sat down next to the girl and she kissed him. Simmons looked away from the site.
“ You’re right,” he said, resisting the temptation to look at the girl.
“ And would you mind telling me when I’m not, because I am clueless to when that might be,” Amacus joked.
“ My guess would be never,” Simmons told them.
A man sat down next to Amacus at the table, “Amacus, Simmons,” he said, they both nodded to him. It was Fred Peterson, an Ensign in the navy.
“ Just thought I’d drop by before I was deployed,” he told them.
“What ship are you going out on?” Simmons asked.
“ The Cherokee,” he told him.
“Well I hope we see you soon,” Amacus said to him. Fred looked at his watch and rushed off. Simmons finished his meal and scanned the mess hall. The girl was gone, and her friend was sitting alone. Simmons noticed a woman walking toward their table. There was something unexplainable about her that attracted Simmons. She had an aura of brilliance. She stopped two feet from their table, and Amacus looked at her, Simmons thought he noticed they same look in his eye from he had earlier, when looking at the girl behind him.
“Hello,” the woman said to them, Simmons instantly knew he would like her, “My name is Doctor Catherine Halsey,”


[Edited on 10/10/2005]

  • 08.19.2005 11:10 AM PDT
Subject: FanFiction please Read.
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This Is brilliant!

  • 08.19.2005 2:34 PM PDT
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i agree its very good

  • 08.22.2005 11:31 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

Thanks for the support.

  • 08.24.2005 3:51 PM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

People may not be responding, but I am still going to post-here's chapter six
Chapter Six

0630 Hours, January 18, 2525 (Military Calendar)
Richter System, Aboard UNSC Frigate Petersburg
In orbit around Richter VII


Simmons entered his pod and shut the hatch. He waited for the all clear signal and then punched the drop button. Fifty pods roared to life as they were launched down towards the surface of Richter VII. “Status report,” Simmons said. Five acknowledgement lights turned blue. So far so good, Simmons thought. The HEV pod was incredibly uncomfortable. Simmons waited for the drop to end, to get his feet on solid ground. One of the lights on Simmons’ HUD started blinking red, it was O’Donnell’s. “ O’Donnell what’s wrong?” Simmons asked.
“ I’m fine,” O’Donnell said and Simmons let out a sigh of relief. “ But Private Lope’s pod is malfunctioning, Sir,” O’Donnell said. Simmons swore loudly. “ He’s going to land a mile from the drop site, in the middle of enemy territory, Sir,” O’Donnell told him. Simmons called up a map of the drop site and the projected drop points of the pods, Simmons selected the five men nearest Lope and opened a COM channel to them. You five are to abort our mission and find Lope,” they said they understood. Simmons opened a channel to Lope. “ Hang tight soldier, help is on the way,” Simmons told him.
“ Yes, Sir,” Lope said, his voice was stone cold, he was not afraid. Simmons heard him thumb the safety off his MA5B. Simmons hoped the men would get there fast enough to save him. This snag would hurt their mission, they would be six men short, but Simmons had to make the decision he did, he wasn’t going to let a man die alone on the battlefield, not when something could be done about it. Simmons called up the map again. Their defenses would be weak to the north; Simmons reassigned a fire team from the east to pick up the gap. Now they would also be weak in two places, but much less so. Simmons trusted his men; he knew they could get the job done. Simmons looked at the timer, they would hit in five seconds. The pod’s descent slowed as they deployed their resistance fins. Simmons watched the timer, it reached zero as the pod smacked onto the earth. Simmons popped the hatch. He looked around; he was in the middle of a deserted street. Dominique appeared out of the pod to his left, and O’Donnell popped out of the pod in front of him. “ Move out,” he said. Dominique pumped his shotgun and walked to a fire escape and started to climb it. O’Donnell holed him self up in a doorway. “ We’ll need a fallback spot,” he told Simmons, then patted his jackhammer, “I’ll hold it,” Simmons nodded and prepared his MA5B; he slapped in a fresh clip and turned the safety off. He walked to the end of the road to an intersection. He pulled the map off the area on his HUD. He needed to turn left. He did, and standing there was a rebel, obviously alerted by the pods falling into the midst of his home, the man was loading shells into an older model shotgun. He saw Simmons and started to pump it. A shot rang out and the man fell to the ground. A vapor trail was rising into the air above him; the calling card of and S2 AM. “ Thanks, Omni,” Simmons said into his COM.
“ No problem sir,” Allison replied. Simmons followed the street to a dead end. He climbed onto of a dumpster and hopped over the wall at the end. He was in a narrow alley. At the end of the alley Simmons saw a rebel firing his rifle. Simmons fired a short burst and the man was knocked out of the alley by three bullets impacting with his side. Simmons walked to the end of the alley. Private Hanks was emerging from the cover he had taken as the rebel shot at him. Simmons nodded, and then Hanks did. “Is everyone in position?” he asked his squad leaders. All the lights blinked blue. “Lope, what is your status?” Simmons asked the stranded soldier.
“ I’m holed down in an alley, there’s three men converging on my position,” Lope said, still his voice showed no sign of fear. Simmons heard shots over the COM.
“ Make that two, Lope, the cavalry has arrived,” said a man over the COM, Simmons could not recognize his voice.
Simmons Opened a COM to his fire team leaders. “Does anyone need more time?” he asked.
“No, Sir,” he heard over the COM. Good.
“All right, let’s move,” Simmons said. Hanks crouched down and ran down the road. Simmons followed him. They stopped at the end of the street. The Rebel’s “base” was a building three stories tall, and it took up a whole block. Out side the entrance was LAAG gun, stripped off a stolen warthog. That would be a problem, Simmons thought.
Simmons heard a thunderous noise and saw a large trail of smoke as a rocket impacted with the LAAG. The gunner was swallowed in the explosion, and the gun was turned to a pile of scrap metal. Simmons waved hanks forward, and the man ran across the street. He stopped at the building and put his back to the wall. He glanced around and then waved Simmons over. He ran across the street at a full sprint, and barely had time to slow down before he got to the wall. “Cover me, I need to load my M90,” Simmons said to Hanks.
“Yes, Sir,” he said, and he stepped in front of Simmons. Simmons grabbed his shotgun and a box of shells. He loaded twelve buckshot shells into the magazine, and pumped it once. He placed his MA5B in his bag and turned into the building.
There were two men standing behind a desk on the far side of the room. They were out of range; Hanks would have to get them. Simmons turned to his left. There was a woman sitting in a chair, when she saw Simmons she started to grab her pistol from its holster. Simmons fired the M90. The shot blew the woman back four feet. Hanks had just entered the room. He leveled his MA5B and fired two bursts, they both caught their targets in the chest, and they fell behind the desk. Simmons checked the room; it was clear. He clicked his COM and waited for the answer.
Explosions rocked the building, and Simmons heard rappelling lines drop from the roof. He heard feet impact with the third floor. “We’re in,” Dominique said. Simmons waited for the rest of Hanks’ squad to fill in. O’Donnell was last. They started up the stairs to the second floor. Simmons heard shots overhead.
The squad filed out of the stairwell and onto the second floor. They separated, and Simmons followed Hanks. There were two guards at the end of the hall. They attempted to level their rifles, but Simmons had hit them both with shots. Simmons opened a door. He saw three men preparing their weapons. Simmons primed a grenade and rolled it into the room.
He ducked out of the room and waited for the detonation. Once he heard it he entered the room. It was clear, Simmons Moved into the next room, which was empty. “Second floor secure,” he said into the COM.
“Affirmative,” Dominique said over the channel, “Third is clear.”
“Alright let’s go,” Simmons said to his squad leaders. The acknowledgement lights winked and Simmons headed for the stairwell.
He heard gunfire from the street, and then a grenade exploded at the bottom of the stairs. Simmons grabbed his MA5B, as a man appeared through the smoke. Simmons fired a short burst and he fell to the ground. “Sir,” O’Donnell said from upstairs, “We got six contacts coming down the street,”
“Is it Lope?” Simmons asked.
“No, Sir,” O’Donnell replied.
“Then take them down, Corporal” Simmons barked into the COM.
He ran down the rest of the stairs and looked out the window, several men were coming down the street. Simmons smacked the butt of his rifle into the window and it shattered. He aimed at the first man and opened fire. As he did this, a grenade was hurled from the roof, and two of the men were down. Simmons motion tracker now showed thirteen enemy contacts coming down the street. And an additional five were sneaking down an alley.


[Edited on 10/10/2005]

  • 08.27.2005 7:22 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

And the rest-
Simmons heard a rocket fire overhead and three of the blips from the alley were gone, but then four more appeared. The platoon was pinned down.
“Dominique, Keep your squads on the roof and lay down suppressing fire from the roof. O’Donnell, get your squad down here, now!” Simmons shouted. Two lights flickered and faded. The door above him opened, and Private Hanks appeared, followed closely by the rest of his squad. Simmons checked his motion tracker; there were twice as many enemy contacts as before. He looked out the window again and spotted two targets running towards the building, Simmons fired a spray of bullets in their direction and they were cut down. He ducked under the window as the rebels replied two him with suppressing fire. Private Hanks jumped up and fired a three round burst of the window and turned to the left. More fire shots came through the window. “Allison where are you?” Simmons said after opening a channel to the sniper team.
“ We are trying to get to your position, but we’re meeting heavy resistance,” Allison said, and Simmons could hear him picking off targets as they spoke.
O’Donnell’s squad continued to keep the rebels from advancing, but more and more contacts showed up. Simmons checked his motion tracker again, there were now too many contacts to count, his tracker was all red. Simmons looked up, and saw a Private shoot out the window, but he was too slow getting down, and a round caught him in the chest, it tore through his armor and he let out a scream of pain. Simmons turned to the rest of the squad, “Suppressive fire!” he shouted to them, and them turned to the private. He dragged him to the back off the stairwell and laid him down. Simmons had trained extensively with field medicine, and was the closest thing to a corpsman the platoon had. He called over Corporal Redding, who carried the medical supplies. He grabbed a canister of biofoam and shoved it into the Private’s bullet hole. The man screamed as Simmons poured it in. He yanked out the canister and grabbed a roll of gauss. He tore off a section of the Private’s armor and wrapped him up. He looked at Redding and pointed to the private, Redding came to attend to him, and Simmons ran to O’Donnell, who was crouched next to the window. “Sir, we are running low on ammunition, we need to get out of here.” He said.
“ I know, I’m gonna try to get Ulysses on the COM,” he replied and tried to open a channel to the base, all he got was static. He swore and turned to O’Donnell, “No response,” he told him. Simmons fired out of the window until his clip was empty, and he ejected it and slapped another.
Simmons checked his motion tracker again, there were six yellow blips coming towards them. “Lope,” he said to himself, and opened a channel to him. “Lope, where are you?” he asked.
“We are advancing on your position now,” Lope told him.
“Dominique, concentrate your fire to clear that road, it’s our way out,” Simmons said through his COM. Ten MA5Bs fired simultaneously from the roof, and Simmons opened a new Channel, to Allison. “Get to the extraction point,” he told the sniper team, “we’ll meet you there,” Simmons told them.
“Yes, Sir,” Allison said.
Once the road was clear, Simmons waved O’Donnell’s squad out of the building. They filed out and ran to Lope’s position. “Dominique, get your men down here!” He shouted. Dominique’s light turned blue, and he heard footsteps above him. The rest of the platoon exited the building, and Simmons waited for Dominique. When he arrived they both ran across the street and met up with the squad leaders.
“Time to head for the extraction point,” he said, and pulled up his map of the area. He laid out routes for the squads, and then sent them to the four NCOs. Their lights blinked blue, and the squads separated.
Simmons turned to Dominique. “We are going to meet up with Allison and Sanchez,” he told him, and Dominique nodded. He dropped his empty jackhammer launcher and pulled out his two M6Cs. Simmons checked his ammo counter, it read 56. He turned down the street, and Dominique followed. Simmons kept his eye on the rooftops. He wasn’t going to be ambushed. Simmons followed the street to a four-way intersection. He pointed Dominique up a ladder, indicating that Allison was up there. Dominique started to climb up the ladder. Simmons prepared to follow him when he heard an engine roar. An old truck came into his view, in the back was a small turret, and a man was on it. Simmons leveled his MA5B, but he knew it would be too late. The man on the turret prepared to fire, but suddenly fell out of the back, as a large vapor trail rose from the spot. Simmons realized that Allison still had his back. The driver of the vehicle must have noticed that he had no gunner, because he started driving straight at Simmons. “Allison,” Simmons said as he fired at the vehicle, but he could not land a shot on the driver.
“I’m out, Sir,” Allison replied. The driver was twenty meters away when Simmons heard shots above him. The driver was hit several times and fell on the wheel, the truck swerved to the left when it was two meters from Simmons. He looked up; Dominique had secured his footing on the ladder, and swung upside down and opened fire on the vehicle. He nimbly pulled himself up and continued to climb. Simmons followed.
As Simmons pulled himself up the last rungs of the ladder he could see Allison and Sanchez inspecting their weapons. Sanchez had just slapped a clip into his MA5B, and Allison was checking the sight on his M6C. Dominique scouted the rooftops, “If we cut across those two buildings,” he said, indicating to the roofs adjacent to the one they were currently on, “And them jump onto that one,” he added, indicating to a building two stories shorter, “We have a clear path to the extraction point on the rooftops the whole time,” he said. Simmons looked at Dominique’s plan, it seemed like it would work, and Simmons trusted the Sergeant’s scouting abilities.
“All right,” Simmons said, “Let’s move out, Dominique take point. Sanchez, watch our six,”
They moved across the roof swiftly, and made the short jump to the next roof. Once they crossed the next rooftop they arrived at a large gap between the two buildings.
“Can we make that?” Sanchez asked.
“Of course we can, Marine,” Dominique said. Sanchez did not seem convinced.
“Sergeant, Secure the rooftop,” Simmons said. Dominique took a step back, jumped and cleared the gap. Simmons indicated to Allison, who also made it. Simmons took three steps back. He grabbed Sanchez’ arm and pulled him back as well. He started to run forward, and jumped at the last possible second. They flew forward, and down onto the building. Simmons braced for impact and checked his trajectory, they were coming in fast, and Simmons wasn’t sure the roof would withstand their weight.
He came crashing down and the shingles on the roof buckled and cracked under the impact. Sanchez flew onto his stomach and tore more shingles off. Dominique pulled the Private up and handed him his discarded MA5B. Sanchez stood up, and Dominique continued across the rooftops. Simmons kept an eye out for any activity on the rooftops, but there was nothing; the entire area was deserted. Dominique held up a hand to indicate they stop. He crouched down and scouted the area. Simmons could see the extraction point in the distance. “ O’Donnell, are you in position?” Simmons asked over the COM.
“We are all ready for dust off, waiting for your arrival,” O’Donnell said. Simmons closed the channel and turned to Dominique.
“Are we ready to go?” he asked.
“No, Sir, there is a patrol below us, or more what’s left of one.” Dominique said to him.
Simmons looked down, there were five men sitting at the front of the building. One of them was wounded, and was being treated by another. They were apparently regrouping after the attack. They had no idea Simmons was above them, and apparently were oblivious to the fact that five UNSC pelican drop ships were five hundred meters from them. They had picked a bad place to regroup. Simmons pulled the last fragmentation grenade from his belt. He turned to Dominique, who apparently had the same idea and was clutching his own fragmentation grenade. Simmons held up three fingers, he put on down, then another. As he put down the last finger he yelled, “Frag out!” and they both unpinned their grenades and dropped them onto their unsuspecting victims. They exploded on impact and sent shrapnel flying into the air. Simmons aimed his MA5B and looked for survivors. All five men were lying on the ground motionless. Simmons motioned Sanchez down the fire escape, and Dominique followed.
Simmons waited for them to reach the ground. Dominique waved to them that it was all clear. Simmons and Allison went down the fire escape and followed Sanchez to the extraction point. The Pelicans were all ready, and O’Donnell waved them into the second Pelican. Simmons strapped in and the pelican rose of the ground.
Simmons looked around the pelican, Dominique was inspecting his helmet, and O’Donnell was looking out the back of the drop ship. Simmons looked towards the cockpit; through the window he could see the pilot. There was a lightning bolt on his shoulder, and Simmons wondered if Charles was again flying him. He thought it was odd, but he shrugged it off.

  • 08.27.2005 7:25 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

and the last piece...

They started their descent over Ulysses’ airfield, and Simmons noticed there was an unusually large number of personal waiting.
As they got out of the back, Simmons noticed colonel Hastert standing in the distance. He was discussing something with the Squadron CO, Major Chambers. At the sight of Simmons arrival Hastert ended the discussion and walked toward him. Simmons also noticed the two ONI officials from the interrogation room standing on the far edge of the airfield, they were looking straight at him, and it made him uncomfortable. Simmons saluted Hastert, who barely thought to return it. “Lieutenant,” he said as he shook Simmons hand. Simmons knew something was about to happen. “Congratulations,” he said.
“Thank you,” Simmons replied, while keeping a watchful eye on the ONI officers. Hastert started walking towards them, and beckoned Simmons should follow. He reluctantly did, and noticed that he was subconsciously thumbing the safety of his MA5B. He immediately flipped it back on, and tried to suppress his feelings, he knew that ONI spooks could smell fear.
“Hello, Lieutenant,” the Captain said. Simmons saluted him, but he did not return it. Simmons had no idea what was wrong, but something must be. “We would like you to join us for lunch, at 1200 hours, tomorrow, in the officer’s club.” The captain told him. Simmons nodded that he understood, but he truly did not. Why would two senior officers want to have lunch with a Lieutenant?
“That will be all, Simmons get some rest,” the Colonel said, and the Two ONI officials strode off at once. The colonel walked towards his warthog, which was flanked by two others. O’Donnell walked up to Simmons, “What was that about, Sir?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” he said to him, “But I am going to find out,”

  • 08.27.2005 7:27 AM PDT
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shhhhhhh

Wow dude, have you posted this in the group yet, im sure dark angle and stuff would like to see this.

p.s its cool.

  • 08.27.2005 7:44 AM PDT
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wow u r very creative and i hope u post more

  • 08.28.2005 5:46 PM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

Thanks, i am going to

  • 08.29.2005 3:55 AM PDT
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Meh, 10 Mjolnir IV's own all.

-TGP-

  • 08.29.2005 5:09 AM PDT

DO NOT send me invites for clans or groups. You will be blocked.
Success is measured in blood; yours or your enemy's.
my siggy
me bringing the pwnage on the better game
Posted by: dalmedya
Bungie doesn't see gamers any more. They see walking credit cards.

edited due to my own stupidity

doh!

[Edited on 9/2/2005]

  • 08.29.2005 7:09 AM PDT
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Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

When i said spartan, i meant Halsey's spartan, i know about the original spartans from sparta, this is a fanfiction story about my theory for why they are called spartan II's, and i don't hink that it is becasue of the Spartans from sparta.

  • 08.29.2005 7:25 AM PDT

DO NOT send me invites for clans or groups. You will be blocked.
Success is measured in blood; yours or your enemy's.
my siggy
me bringing the pwnage on the better game
Posted by: dalmedya
Bungie doesn't see gamers any more. They see walking credit cards.

o0o0ohhhh

  • 08.29.2005 7:27 AM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
  • user homepage:

Read about the Forgotten Spartan I Program
Butane: To protect the world from devastation!
sir_brilliant: To unite all people within our nation!
Rainman89: To denounce the evils of truth and love!
sir_brilliant: To extend out reach to the stars above!
SpaceGhostFlyer: Jessie!
Butane: James!
sir_brilliant: Team Rocket blasting off at the speed of light
Butane: Surrender now or prepare to fight
sir_brilliant: Meowth, that's right!

So please don't flame me.

  • 08.29.2005 7:30 AM PDT