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  • Subject: [Story] The Shadow Skull Squad (Chapter 2 Complete!)
Subject: [Story] The Shadow Skull Squad (Chapter 2 Complete!)

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

PROLOGUE

Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 18th February, 2550

The sun rose on another beautiful Earth day. The lush green fields stretched endlessly, as far as the eye could see; deep blue oceans glimmered with mystery. Earth: the jewel of all human colonies.

Unfortunately, Sergeant Taylor could not see any of Earth's natural beauty, because his face was being pushed into the desert dust by his drill sergeant. His 50 press-ups complete, Gregory Taylor stood up and faced his drill sergeant. Greg was the kind of man who could get lost in a crowd - he had short, spiky hair, the colour of straw, and at 5'9" people who didn't know him very well would often describe him as 'average'. In reality, Sergeant Taylor was anything but.

"I have completed the assignment, Sir!" he announced, snapping a smart salute. The drill sergeant, a heavily built man known only as Braxton, returned the salute.
"Congratulations!" Braxton's deep voice boomed out, completely failing the sarcasm that was intended, "You are dismissed. Carry on."

Greg lowered his hand and promptly left. He had been on his way to the mess hall when Drill Sergeant Braxton had jumped him, ordering him to do 50 press-ups for no apparent reason. Anyone wandering Camp Umbra by themselves would often become a victim to one of Braxton's surprise drills (one unlucky Private had once been sent on a random 10 mile hike across the desert).

The camp was home to exactly 100 of the best marines in the United Nations Space Command, and 10 of the best military minds to teach them. They were all training for deployment in one the most secretive military branches in the UNSC: the Shadow Skull Squad. Only the elite were chosen, and the process was gruelling - the training involved would test a Spartan, and everyone in the camp knew it.

Greg slowed down to a brisk walk, continuing inside the mess hall. The other 99 hopefuls were already eating, and as the Sergeant walked he could tell that they all knew what had happened. Sergeant Taylor was not a man who was usually late for lunch. Greg walked between the rows of benches that made up the hall.

Camp Umbra was a simplistic place, and the mess hall was no different, consisting of 3 metal walls and a flat serrated roof. The missing wall that served as a door woul often disrupt meals if a sandstorm came through the base. Inside there were just 2 long wooden tables, with benches either side - the food was produced in a kitchen next door, and the camp received regular supplies. "Only the best for the best," the marines would joke.

Greg sat down next to a man who had an angled face and dark gold hair that curled slightly at the edges. This man was called Blake Campbell, and he had been Greg's friend and teammate since they joined the Core together in 2539. They were each only 28 years old. Blake was around the same height and build as Greg - average, some would say. In reality, Sergeant Campbell was anything but.

Blake looked up and smiled as Greg sat down. "Another Braxton surprise?" he asked, trying to contain a laugh. "What was it this time?"
Greg shrugged. "Only 50 push-ups. No big deal." Blake almost seemed disappointed. He looked around and leaned in towards Greg's ear.
"You know it's selection tomorrow, right?" he whispered. Greg froze.
"What?!" he hissed. "I thought it wasn't until next week!"
Blake nodded. "I was speaking to Desmond. He let it slip." Drill Sergeant Desmond was by far the softest of mentors, and on the first day he took a special shine to Greg and Blake. They climbed the rope, ahead of the others; laughing as they rang the bell- Greg shook the memory from his head.
"But what about the final test?" Greg asked. Blake grimaced. They both knew the answer to that question.
"Looks like this is it then," Blake said. He thrust his hand towards Greg, who took it. They shook.
"May the best man win," Greg declared.
"No," Blake replied quietly. "Let's both win. Show those bastards how it's done." Greg paused, and then nodded in agreement.
"Tomorrow, then," he said.
"Tomorrow," Blake agreed.

Chapter 1 - Selection

UNSC Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

Tomorrow came.
It was a day like any other - hot and dusty. 98 of the marines at Camp Umbra had no idea what lay in store for them during the day ahead, as they had done (or not done) for the past 2 years. Random events were just one if the ways the Squad aspirants were tested; sometimes they would come under sudden attack by "rebels", or a building would be set on fire in the middle of the night. For the first time, two of the soldiers actually knew what was going to happen, and they already had a plan. And five others just in case.

Blake surveyed the map, which was being lit by a single lamp in the small room. Greg looked at his watch. 2:14am.
"Better hurry up," he said quietly, "The night guard comes along here at 2:23." Greg had often stayed awake all night, listening to the footsteps of the watchmen, the shallow breathing of the five other marines in his dormitory, the late night desert sounds.

"OK..." With his finger, Blake traced one of the thick red lines that covered the map of the surrounding dunes, hills and canyons. "Here! A small hut...must have been there for years...unused, on a high dune...that's the spot. That's the meeting point."
Greg bent over the map and peered at the red arrow. He stared at it for a while, his eyes scanning a route around the desert. He nodded slowly.
"Affirmative. Then what?"
"I don't know what the objective will be. We'll have to arrange a plan once we've regrouped. Bear in mind...we could be dropped off anywhere. The only intel we have is that we will be taken by Pelican to an LZ within 50 miles of the camp. Could be the first back - could be we have to get a flag. I don't know. All I know is..." Blake looked at Greg. They both said it at the same time.
"...we're going to win."

UNSC Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

"WAKE UP YOU MAGGOTS! WE ARE IN A HOT COMBAT SITUATION! THIS IS NOT A DRILL; I REPEAT - THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"
Sirens blared as the sergeants rushed the marines to the barracks. Blake managed to glance at his watch - 6:00am. The instructors were saying it wasn't a drill; Blake highly doubted that. It was the day the final test was due, after all. He sprinted across the courtyard into the barracks, where his armour awaited him. It wasn't MJOLNIR, but it was the next best thing: state-of-the-art, ODST-inspired and fully functioning, members of the Shadow Skull Squad Scheme were specially trained and licensed to use Shielded Tactical Recon Armour Protection, or STRAP. This gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "strapping in", and the soldiers never let each other forget it - some jokes never die.

But the name was all the marines could find fault with - the armour was near perfection. Compared to the MJOLNIR armour, the STRAP was lighter and more agile, but it lacked the increased protection and intelligence that Powered Assault Armour gave. The armour looked very similar to that worn by Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, and the helmet was almost identical. STRAP incorporated layers of defensive alloys which, combined with the improved shielding, made the armour resilient to EMP charges, radiation and light weaponry of any kind. The helmet was the most intelligent part of the armour - it contained an advanced HUD and could connect to the soldier's neural interface, increasing reaction time and providing the marines with a wealth of tactical information in combat situations.

Over the years the marines had made special adjustments to their armour. Blake had added a slot on the right breastplate for his trusty combat knife, whereas Greg had stayed up long into the night altering his helmet to complement his long-range fighting style.

Blake was reminded of the last fact as he slid into his armour. The inside layer was a special gel-like substance, moulding to his body and allowing him to move freely. The gel also absorbed sweat, storing it in small containers strapped to the combat belt or releasing it through the many filters used to dissipate toxins and environmental poisons.

Blake slipped his helmet on. The heads-up display flickered to life, and he already felt faster and stronger. He brought up a small map and searched for Greg's call sign. The HUD told him he was in the next corridor. Blake left through the door, the first to get changed, when -

[Edited on 08.25.2010 9:29 AM PDT]

  • 08.21.2010 2:36 PM PDT
Subject: [Story] The Shadow Skull Squad (Chapter 1)

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Somewhere in the Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

Greg groaned and opened his eyes slowly. Suddenly his reactions kicked in, and he was awake, stood, with a pistol held firmly in his hand. He scanned the immediate area, but there were no hostiles - in fact, there wasn't anything. Just desert.

Greg holstered the M6C and, completely calm, ran a systems check. The priority was his SRS99C-S2 AMB Sniper Rifle - the weapon was Greg's baby, his lover; he even slept with it in his bunk. He could do incredible things with his rifle: one of the other recruits told the story at every opportunity of how Greg has taken out an entire hostile team with one ammo clip in less than ten seconds from 7000 feet. Smiling, Greg shook the memory from his head and continued his checks.

The STRAP was functioning normally, but Greg had a splitting headache. Must've knocked me out once I was changed, he thought angrily. He knew he shouldn't have been caught off-guard like that. Especially when he was expecting it.
He hacked into the ONI network and brought up a satellite picture of his location on his HUD. He and Blake had managed to find a back door into the system the first few weeks of arrived at Camp Umbra, and had used it to their advantage ever since. Looking at the map now, he could see he was roughly 5 miles from the meeting point they had agreed on. Greg still had no idea what the objective was, so he could only assume that meant no one else did either. All he could do was stick to the plan. He marked the hut on his compass, set his motion tracker to the maximum range of 100m, and set off at a run. He could only assume Blake was doing the same.

Somewhere else in the Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

Blake jolted awake, pulling his knife from its sheath and grabbing hold of the nearest person to use for potential bargaining.

"Get off me, get off me, get off me!" whined the randomly selected hostage. Blake did not release his vice grip, but instead filtered out the hostage's voice (as he had been expertly trained to do) and took stock of his surroundings. He found himself in a small, dark, concrete room with no windows and only one open door leading to a flight of stairs, from which a warm breeze was flowing. Blake instantly knew three things: they were in an underground bunker; the bunker was in the middle of the desert, and his prisoner was feebly attempting to bite his finger. This last fact caused Blake's attention to finally rest on his current detainee. The man was relatively small, but the STRAP he was wearing proved he was a Squadron hopeful (Blake had already calculated the chance of the man stealing a STRAP at less than 0.34%).

"I said get OFF me!" the man whinged. Sighing, Blake released him. The man instantly backed away, checking his body for injuries. Blake slid his knife back into the casing on his breastplate and surveyed the man properly - he was, indeed, rather short, but made up for the fact with bulging muscles, which made him look not unlike a swollen dwarf. The man dusted himself off and removed his helmet.
"Ah. Adam," Blake said, with a hint of relief.
"Should have guessed," Adam Sheppard replied glumly, "You're always on the good end of the knife."
Blake laughed heartily and, slapping Adam on the back, paced around the room.
"Here it is," he said happily, picking up his helmet and sliding his head into it. The gel-layer formed around his cranium perfectly, the HUD connecting to his neural interface like an old friend. Blake bypassed the ONI firewalls and pulled up a satellite map, marking his objective. The hut was roughly 7 miles north-east of the bunker, a morning jog for the highly-trained operative. Blake pulled his BR55HB SR, more commonly known as the 'Battle Rifle', from the strap on his back, checking the functionality and ammo condition. The Battle Rifle's high accuracy and fire rate made it the perfect weapon for a SSS operative - single shots could be employed for assassinations but full auto could be enabled if the situation became more interesting.

Holstering the weapon, Blake walked towards the door.
"Hey! What about me?" Adam exclaimed. Blake whirled.
"Ah. Yes. Of course. Must assist fellow operative. Come along then," Blake replied vaguely.
The two soldiers grabbed their gear and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine.

"The Hut", Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

Greg was waiting for them, scanning the area with his sniper.
"You took your time," he said, without looking up.
"He doesn't have very long legs," Blake replied. Greg holstered his sniper and turned to face them.
"Found a friend, did you? Who is it?"
"Adam. He found me in the bunker."
"He almost killed me!" Adam cried.
"We've all been there, my friend," Greg said empathetically. Not many of the recruits had gone without clashing with Sergeant Campbell.
Blake looked through the dirty window of the hut.
"Much in there?" he asked.
"Nope," Greg replied, "Just junk. I've been surveying the area, the base seems to have been overrun my rebels of some kind...they have no insignias I recognise."
"What about other operatives?"
"I've seen a few wandering around, but nowhere near us."
"Good. It's likely we have to take back the base then."
"But we have live rounds with us! Surely we're not supposed to kill them?"
Blake shrugged.
"Who knows? We could always just shoot them in the leg."
"True," Greg nodded in agreement. The two fell into silence as they thought.
Adam, who had been following the discussion with interest, now felt suitably awkward.
"Sooo..." he began. The other two looked at him. Adam swallowed. "Do we, er...do we have a plan?"
Blake and Greg looked at each other and shared a wicked smile.
"Oh yeah, we have a plan..."

Outskirts of Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

Camp Umbra was less of a camp and more of a fortress - a huge metal wall, 20 feet high, surrounded the massive site, which covered at least a mile of space in a strange heptagonal shape. No one really knew why the outside wall of the base had 7 sides; it was one of the many unsolved mysteries of the camp.

The trio crept around the side of the base, their backs to the wall, weapons in hand. The continued silently Blake raised a clenched fist - the team stopped simultaneously. Blake placed his Battle Rifle next to him and began to moving the sand in front of him, brushing it away to reveal a dull metal plate underneath.
"What's that?" Adam hissed.
"Trapdoor," Greg replied quietly, "Dug our way out after 2 weeks using spoons."

Blake lifted the plate, exposing a dark tunnel underneath. He picked up his Battle Rifle and turned the attached torch on; the others did the same. Blake looked around one last time before beckoning the others into the tunnel. Once they had jumped in, Blake scrutinised the landscape. He fancied he could see movement on the horizon...his motion tracker wasn't picking anything up, but Blake trusted his eyes more than his tech. Deciding he could do nothing about it, he checked his STRAP one final time before venturing into the abyss.

  • 08.21.2010 2:37 PM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

The rebel soldier leant back against the shack wall and took a final drag from his cigarette before throwing casually on the ground and crushing it under his boot. He sighed, scanning the base for the expected intruders.

A sharp, sudden grating sound caused him to whirl around, weapon in hand. He cautiously checked around the back of the shack, and was surprised to find a deep, dark hole in the ground. Puzzled, he placed his rifle on the ground and knelt to the floor, peering down into the darkness. A sudden movement shocked him and he tried to cry out, but it was too late; a moment later, nothing but his rifle remained.

Blake kept his knife pressed firmly against the soldier's windpipe.
"I am going to let go of your mouth now," he said quietly, "and you are not going to make a sound. You will answer my questions or you will die. Blink twice if you understand me."
The soldier blinked frantically, and Blake removed his hand.
"How many are there?" he asked simply.
"A-a-about 20," the rebel stuttered.
"Live ammunition?"
"Y-yes."
"Is this a test?"
The man remained silent, looking at the dark faces that held him in the dirt.
"I said, is this a test?" Blake repeated, more firmly.
"I-I don't know what you're t-talking about," the rebel said finally.
Blake pinched the man's windpipe, causing the soldier to black out.
"He was telling the truth," Greg said quietly.
"I know," Blake replied.
"So what are we going to do?" Adam hissed.
The men were silent for a moment.
"We're going to take back this base," Blake said finally.
The others nodded, and they readied their weapons. Blake paused, collecting his focus.
"...go."

The team burst from their tunnel and took up defensive positions immediately, but there was no-one to be seen. Blake surveyed the surroundings: the tunnel had come out in-between one of the shacks where the Squad hopefuls slept and the huge wall surrounding the camp - they were right at the edge of the site.

Blake knew that whoever was running this operation would be at the command centre in the heart of the camp, so he motioned for the others to follow him. He wanted to get there with the minimal amount of fuss; he was still unsure whether this was a test or not, and he did not want to kill any fellow operatives.

The team moved swiftly and silently between the shacks, checking their corners at every opportunity. They managed to get to the mess hall without being spotted, but as they were crossing the open area towards it, a rebel soldier noticed them and cried out. He was quickly stifled by a three shot burst from Blake's Battle Rifle, but the cry had attracted other soldiers, who quickly flocked to the area. Slow and silent was not an option any more.

"Go, go, go!" Blake shouted, and the team sprinted towards the more densely packed buildings where they would have more cover, sliding through the dust into an alleyway of sorts a moment before the rebel soldiers arrived at the scene. The trio continued to run through the maze of shacks and buildings, bunkers and depots, avoiding the not-so-subtle rebels who were searching for them when it was possible, and quickly eliminating them when it was not.

A few bullets later the men arrived at the command centre, a tall, sturdy building encased in thick, dull metal. Blake quickly checked for any patrols but the space was quiet, and the shouts of the soldiers were far away.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Greg whispered to him. Blake nodded his acknowledgment, and cautiously moved towards the door in front of him, the other two men close behind him. Blake stretched his hand towards the door, but before he could touch it there was a shout nearby.

"NOW!" someone called, and suddenly half a dozen soldiers sprang from hiding places around the team, firing manically towards the three men, who made no response. Dust was thrown up all around the area and in a matter of seconds nobody could see a thing. After a minute or so the rebels stopped firing and waited for the dust to settle. As it did, a few of the soldiers became aware of a strange humming sound, a low, mechanical noise that filled the air. The dust settled, and where the three men had been crouching a few moments ago was a large transparent bubble. Inside were three very angry, very well trained, very alive men.

The brain of every rebel was just turning from the state of puzzlement to the state of absolute fear when the bubble shield deactivated; in a few seconds it was all over, and 6 soldiers dropped to the ground.

"Another one bites the dust," Adam said spitefully, and he attempted to spit on the floor. Greg looked at him, perplexed.
"Did you just spit inside your own helmet?"
"Shut up."
Blake held his hand up and the others fell silent.
"Let's go," he said. They went.

Command Centre, Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

The bottom floor of the command centre was a typical office-esquire complex, complete with bland wooden desks and bulky computers. Alert from their close encounter, the team moved swiftly through the room towards the stairs, their eyes scanning meticulously for any signs of hostile activity. Their scrutinizing went unneeded, however, as they reached and ascended the stairs to the top floor with no enemy interaction at all.

This worried Blake greatly.

Pausing at the door to the observation deck at the top of the tower, Blake nodded at his men, who nodded back. They were ready for whatever was on the other side of the door. Blake was proud of them - they'd worked seamlessly as a team and they'd made it all the way to the command centre with minimal enemy casualties. Now they were ready to face the next challenge, whatever it may be. Blake gritted his teeth, focused his mind, and then smashed the door down.

The observation deck was empty, save for a single chair on a swivel, which faced the large semi-circular glass pane that allowed one to see the half of the camp where the soldiers slept. It was a fairly nice chair - dark red, the kind that resonates with a power that had been well earned.
Blake holstered his weapon, and the other men followed suit. They took a step forward.
The chair began to clap, a slow, deliberate clap.
"Well done my boys, well done indeed!"

The chair swivelled around, revealing a man who was the very definition of ambiguity; he was an average height, average build, with an average haircut and boring grey suit. There was absolutely nothing noticeable about him. For some reason Blake found it hard to look at him for too long - his brain seemed to automatically want to ignore the man.

"And who are you?" Blake asked, mustering his concentration. The man laughed.
"I run this place, my boy! Now, take off your helmets so I can get a better look at you!" The man seemed to be enjoying himself. The team looked at each other, and then slowly removed their helmets. The man turned first to Adam.
"Hmm, Adam isn't it?" he said quizzically. "Yes, I remember you. Have to say, I didn't expect you here, but you obviously work well when you're with others." The man smiled, contented. He turned then to Greg.
"Ah, Gregory! Now you I did expect. Sharp one, aren't you? And so deceptive. Yes, you'll do nicely." The man smiled to himself again, a mysterious grin at some joke that only he knew the punchline to. Finally, he turned to Blake.
"Blake, my boy. I knew from the first day I met you that you would be the one to stand in front of me today. A born leader! You should be very proud of your men - you've worked seamlessly as a team and made it all the way to the command centre with minimal enemy casualties!" The man smiled that mysterious, wicked grin again, causing a shiver to run down Blake's spine. He shook it off.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blake said, "Who are you? The men out there had live ammunition - just what the hell is going on?"
At this the man seemed to fall out of character for a moment, and a flicker of surprise penetrated the mask of anonymity.
"Live ammunition?" the man muttered to himself, "That won't do at all; we'll have to see about that..."
Greg coughed purposefully and the mysterious man regained his composure, and his terrible smile.

  • 08.21.2010 2:39 PM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

"Well, my boys, isn't it obvious? My name is John Smith. I started this program, and I've been watching the movement of all 100 of you fine men and women as you have taken on my little tests. It's been most invigorating, let me tell you. That was some nice work hacking into our systems by the way," he said, giving Greg a wink. "At any rate, you three have passed the final test, its objective being the first team to come and see me, obviously. So now, let me formally reward you."

The man stood up and pulled three medals out of his pocket. He placed the first one around Adam's neck.
"Sergeant Adam Sheppard, I hereby promote you to the rank of Second Lieutenant of the UNSC Marine Corps, and position you in the Shadow Skull Squad."
The second medal was placed around Greg.
"Sergeant Gregory Taylor, I hereby promote you to the rank of Second Lieutenant of the UNSC Marine Corps, and position you in the Shadow Skull Squad."
Finally, the man placed the third medal around Blake's neck. The man smiled at him again.
"Sergeant Blake Campbell, I hereby promote you to the rank of First Lieutenant of the UNSC Marine Corps, and position you in charge of the Shadow Skull Squad."

The man stepped back and smiled at them all.
"Well, gentlemen, I do believe this concludes our meeting for today. You'll be hearing from me very soon concerning your first mission. You'll see yourselves out, won't you?" He smiled that wicked smile one last time, and then vanished.
Blake was incredibly surprised by this as he knew it was almost impossible for the man to have simply disappeared. He strained his eyes, collecting all his concentration and focusing on the room before him. For a brief moment, he thought you saw a flicker of the man appear again, but with a wink he was gone, and Blake was left with a headache.

"What the hell just happened?" Greg said incredulously.
"I...have no idea," Blake replied. His mind was still trying to analyse it.
Adam was studying his medal.
"I think..." he said slowly, "I think we won."
Blake and Greg looked at each other, and smiled.

  • 08.21.2010 2:40 PM PDT

Commenting and keeping alive, as per request.

  • 08.22.2010 2:25 PM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Thank you my good man.

  • 08.22.2010 3:33 PM PDT

An assassin will always carry on, even after death.

Great story. If only mine attracted some readers :/

  • 08.22.2010 3:53 PM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

I'll dig it up again for you ;)

  • 08.23.2010 5:29 AM PDT
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No matter how many seals are killed by sharks a year, it never seems to be enough :D

I just read the introduction. This is good, really good. Excelent detail and nice diologue. Space the speaking though. Dammit I must kill this fly in my room! Where's my airsoft gun...But yes, good work.

  • 08.23.2010 7:39 PM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Thanks, the speaking presentation gets better btw. Chapter 2 coming soon.

  • 08.24.2010 10:13 AM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Chapter 2 - Insurgence

Camp Umbra, Nevada Desert, Earth - 19th February 2550

A wisp of breath escaped Greg's mouth as he strolled through the camp. He gazed into the clear sky, where the moon looked down upon him, illuminating the area.

At night, the desert air became cold and crisp; although many of the soldiers had cursed the chill, Greg found it calming and would often take midnight walks to collect his thoughts. Tonight, though, he wandered aimlessly, his mind occupied with recollections of the past; he knew that in the morning he would be leaving Camp Umbra, his home for the past 8 years.

It had been a difficult journey, one of sweat and blood and pain, but it had also been the best 8 years of his life. Greg smiled at the memory of the friends (and enemies) that he'd made at the camp, and the many things he'd learned - not just about war, but about life as well.

Greg's reminiscing was cut short as Blake appeared next to him.
"Damn, it's chilly," Blake remarked. Greg stifled a chuckle.
"I don't mind it. It helps me think," Greg replied, "You figured out who John Smith is yet?"

"No," Blake said, annoyed, "Logically, he's either an AI or a very convincing hologram."
"Thought you said he gave you a headache?"
"That's the difficult part. Holograms don't give headaches. Although I do have a theory..." Greg stayed silent, watching him expectantly. Blake sighed. "Alright, you know how when something is ordinary and nonchalant, your brain doesn't really recognise it's there? It just accepts it? What if you could train yourself to blend in to your surroundings and become unnoticeable?"
"You mean trick the brain?"
"Exactly. And that's why I had to focus to see him, and why it gave me a headache."
The two fell silent as they thought about it.

"It's certainly an interesting theory," Greg said eventually.
"Yes," Blake mused, "I'm sure we'll be able to find out at some point."
"We get our first mission tomorrow," Greg said, "What do you think?"
"Oh, probably some small objective, I suspect. They'll want to see what we can do first."
"What about Adam? He seems to lack...enthusiasm."
"His heart is in the right place, he'll follow orders and he can shoot pretty damn well too. And if you remember, he has a right to be a pessimist." This last comment caused Greg to turn away in shame.

"Blake, I only meant..." Greg's words stumbled away. Blake sighed.
"I know. It's just, after what happened on Kholo..." he grimaced at the memory. Greg laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"There was nothing you could have done..." he said quietly. Blake stayed silent, his turmoil kept within.
"Come on," Greg said, "Let's get some sleep. We'll need it for tomorrow."
Blake nodded and, giving the bright moon a final glace, left for his bed.

UNSC Prowler "Shadow Strike", Earth Orbit - 20th February 2550

John Smith smiled at the team, extending his hands as the three men stood to attention.
"Gentlemen," he said softly, "how nice to see you again."

Greg focused on the man, although his eyes were tempted to inspect the dim, spacious room he was in. He had been fascinated by the ship since he had seen it from the shuttle - the dark shape had only just been noticeable in the blackness of space due to the Prowler's Stealth Ablative Coating, but Greg had spent long enough studying ships to recognise it.

What had puzzled him most about this particular Prowler was the additional weaponry ONI Prowlers were only ever stealth recon ships, but the "Shadow Strike" seemed to have at least 5 additional pulse lasers and Greg even thought he had seen Archer missile pods. It was all highly irregular. He decided he would consult Blake on the matter after their mission briefing, and focused again on what Smith was saying.

"Now, I'm sure you're all eager to take out some Covenant High Command, but it's taken 8 years to train you three and I'd like to see what you can do first," Smith flashed that nefarious smile again. "You remember these fellows, I'm sure."

He pressed down on the control panel in front of him and an image appeared on the wide screen behind him. Blake instantly recognised one of the soldiers who had invaded Camp Umbra the day before. The insignia on the soldier's left arm appeared to be a hand gripping a lightning bolt, but it belonged to no faction that Blake knew of.

"The men who you fought yesterday were part of a small group of well trained soldiers known as Freedom," Smith continued. "This faction first appeared in 2547 and they have proven quite troublesome to the UNSC their actions have included sabotage and assassination. We...allowed them to take our base yesterday as it seemed like the fairest way to fully test your abilities. It's a shame about the live rounds though."
"Why are they attacking us?" Adam asked, puzzled.
John Smith made a few motion on his control panel and a second image appeared, this time of a stern looking man who seemed to be in his late forties. He was wearing UNSC uniform.

"This," Smith said dramatically, "is Major Lopez. At one time he was highly decorated in the UNSC, but he lost his daughter to a Covenant ambush. He blamed the UNSC for his loss and went off the grid - with his training it probably wasn't difficult. Now he's back, with a small army and a taste for vengeance. And I need you to stop him. All clear?"
The team snapped sharp salutes simultaneously.
"Sir, yessir!" they chorused.
"Good!" Smith replied happily. "Now get out of my sight. You will be given your intel on the way. Dismissed!"

Mount Tyria, Charybdis IX - 23rd March 2550

Greg surveyed the base through his sniper rifle scope, his keen eye scanning the rusted metal buildings for signs of life. It was hardly a state of the art compound - the only defences seemed to be a metal fence and random clumps of barbed wire. Looks can be deceiving, Greg thought. He had no doubt there was something much more deadly awaiting them.

"What do you see?" Blake asked quietly.
"Five buildings, old warehouses or offices I suspect, with a wire fence around the complex. Around 30 feet of open ground, then another fence. Half a dozen guards patrolling the perimeter with another dozen inside. The target is in there somewhere."

Blake stayed silent, formulating a plan. There had been little trouble getting to the base - Charybdis IX was an outer colony on the very edge of UNSC controlled space and there were only a few remaining settlements, so the squad had been dropped off a few miles north of the complex on a rocky mountain crag. Their position provided an excellent view of the surrounding area.

The rebel's compound was in a dense forest area, and even with the STRAP's temperature control systems, Blake was still feeling the heat. He checked his weapons systems to ensure they were working efficiently, his mind pacing as he did so. What are they hiding? he wondered.
"Listen up," he said finally. "There's something bigger going on here, but we're not going to find out until we get down there. We'll ambush a perimeter patrol, get more intel, then cut through the fences."

Greg and Adam nodded their acknowledgment and ran checks on their own equipment. Their training had prepared them for missions with little information, and they had skills for "extracting" the data they needed. Blake hoped he would not need to use those skills. They were usually lethal.

Freedom Headquarters Outskirts, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

In the shadows, Blake waited. He had found an overhanging rock near the outer fence, draped in shade from the trees above; he lay flat across the top of the rock, his dark armour blending with the gloom. There, in the shadows, he waited.

He did not have to wait long. After a couple of minutes, heavy footsteps could be heard from the path to his left, and a few moments later a heavily built man appeared. An old MA37 Assault Rifle hung loosely in his muscular grip as he marched along the path, crushing wildlife underfoot. Blake held his breath and waited for the soldier to wander directly underneath the rock.

Silently, and in one singular motion, Blake leapt from the rock and dropped onto the unsuspecting rebel, kicked him in the head with both feet and causing the man to cry out in pain. Blake landed gracefully on the path and turned on the rebel an instant later. The huge man had already recovered, however, and was reaching for his radio. Blake swiftly brought his foot round again and sent the radio flying into the forest, following with another strike to the soldier's head; he attempted to deliver a finishing blow with a roundhouse kick but it was deftly blocked by the man's giant arm. Blake leapt back, out of the rebel's reach. Damn, he's fast! Blake realized. The soldier, now ready for a fight, gave Blake a toothy grin and raised his colossal fists.

"Let's dance," he boomed. As the giant began to lumber towards him, Blake devised a plan. I can't get near him, he'll tear me apart, Blake thought bitterly. The element of surprise was usually more helpful.
Blake readied himself, and then let out a low whistle. The soldier paused for a moment, puzzled. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. His head turned for a second.
"Huh?"
Then everything went black.

  • 08.25.2010 9:25 AM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Blake finished binding the rebel to the tree and stood up, brushing his hands together.
"You could have just hit him in the back of the head, you know," he sighed.
"I like to see their faces," Greg replied, grinning. He wiped the last of the blood off the butt of his sniper rifle. "Besides," he continued, "you didn't have to punch him too. I had it covered."
"I don't take chances," Blake said, his thoughts distracted. They had pulled the soldier into a small clearing and used a strong wire that Adam kept to tie him up. Greg was sat on a tree trunk, his helmet lying by his feet, and Adam was holding a pistol a few inches from their prisoner's head, a shotgun strapped to his back.

"He's coming round," Adam said suddenly. Blake looked at him.
"Over to you Adam. You know what to do."
"Yes sir," Adam replied, a little too gleefully. If there was one thing Adam was brilliant at, it was extraction. Greg stood up.
"I'm just going to secure the area again," he told Blake, who nodded his permission. Greg never did like extraction, and Adam's always became a little too sadistic for his taste. He picked up his helmet and placed it over his head, holstering his weapons. He started walking, and thinking. Reminiscing.

He and Blake had first met when they were both 8 years old. Blake had challenged him to a race, but it had been a tie - they spent the next hour arguing about who had won. Greg smiled. They still hadn't resolved that. It had been the start of a beautiful friendship.
And then the Covenant had come...

Greg gritted his teeth at the painful memory. Ten years of childish war games and then we got thrust into it for real, he thought sadly. He shook the ghost of his past away, concentrating on the present. He knew he had to be focused for the mission to succeed. In the distance, the screaming started. Greg sighed. He could never escape the screaming.
All he could do was walk.

Freedom Headquarters Outskirts, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

Adam gave the soldier a final punch, knocking him unconscious, and strode over to where Blake was scanning the forest around them.
"That open area? Full of landmines," Adam said calmly. "Snipers concealed in trees around the perimeter - they haven't seen us yet or there would have been an alert. Five guards patrolling the outer fence and ten inside the complex. Target is in a bunker underneath the central building."
Blake looked at him, impressed.
"You got all that in five minutes?" he asked. Adam shrugged.
"We don't have time to play around. Human rights be damned," he replied. Blake nodded in agreement. They had to do everything they could to complete the mission. He clicked his COMM system on.
"Greg, get back here. Adam's finished the extraction, we're moving in five," he said.
"Roger that," came the immediate reply.

Blake re-checked his weapons. On a mission, he never wasted a second - malfunctioning equipment could mean the difference between a live marine and a dead one, and it was a fact he would not soon forget.
Adam was watching Blake from the corner of his eye, observing the ritualistic inspections.
"You never switch off, do you?" he remarked. Blake was silent for a moment.
"I like to keep myself busy," he said eventually. "It keeps me in the present."
"And out of the past?" Adam replied quietly. Blake turned to him, and Adam could feel the tension rise.

"You're pushing the boundaries of our relationship, Second Lieutenant," he said coldly. Adam swallowed.
"Affirmative, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir," he snapped a salute for good measure. The pressure seemed to hang in the air, threatening to explode at any moment. Suddenly Blake sighed heavily and turned away, his anger forgotten.
"I'm sorry Adam," he said, "I know you have suffered too. But my wounds have yet to heal - I still have not found my peace."
Adam placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.
"You will, Blake. You will."

An abrupt crunching sound signalled Greg's return. The team returned to the clearing as though nothing at happened and Blake bent down, drawing a map with the thin barrel of his Battle Rifle.
"Here's the plan," he said simply, "First, we take out those snipers, silently. Greg, you'll take one of the sniper's positions while Adam and I storm the base."
"What about the mines?" Adam said.
"Oh, so there's mines now too?" Greg interjected sarcastically.
"Not a problem," Blake replied, "Before we left the Shadow Strike, one of the crew members slipped me this."
He took a palm-sized device from his belt and held it in the light. It was a silver, cylindrical gadget with many small lights indicating various details, with a large red button underneath a glass casing on the top.

"He said it was from Smith," Blake continued. "I had a look at it on the way here - it's some form of EMP device. It emits a long range frequency designed to disrupt the power flow of electrical equipment. We'll use this to disable the mines."
"How do we know the landmines are electrical?" Greg asked.
"The UNSC has been using electrical systems in their landmines for centuries," Adam replied, "There's no way these rebels have anything else." He looked at Blake. "The only problem is, your EMP device won't disable the systems, it'll overload them, causing them all to detonate."
He couldn't see it through the reflective visor, but Adam was sure Blake was smiling.
"Remember your training," Blake said, "What's the best tactic after surprise?" Realisation dawned on the other two.
"Confusion," Greg grinned.

Freedom Headquarters Outskirts, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

The last sniper dropped from the tree, a knife protruding from his throat.
"Nice throw," Greg commented.
"Thanks," Blake replied.
Adam dragged the body into a thick bush whilst Greg took his position in the tree - a wide branch allowed him to set up his sniper and lie flat, providing him with a panoramic view of the entire complex.
"You good?" Blake said.
"Yeah, I'm good," came the reply, "What happens if a patrol comes this way?"
Blake chuckled.
"Don't worry, after I set the EMP off, they'll be running all over the place. Put you heat sensors on, this is gonna get dusty."
"Just like at Camp Umbra, right?"
"Exactly."
Adam returned, and Blake pulled out the device. He flicked the glass casing open, revealing the red button.
"Heat sensors on," he said. The team prepared.
"Weapons check," he said. The team prepared.
"On my mark," he said. The team prepared.
The team paused.
"Go."

[Edited on 08.25.2010 9:28 AM PDT]

  • 08.25.2010 9:26 AM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Freedom Headquarters, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

Jake sighed, kicking up dust with his boots. His "friend" had said the job had action. He said it would be good pay. He said it would be helping the cause.
What he didn't mention was the small fact that Jake had to go to the very edge of space and hang around some old buildings on a godforsaken planet that was hotter than his grandmother's cookies, and twice as deadly. And that was saying something.

Jake sighed again, a long, meaningful sigh that his partner, Bruce, couldn't ignore.
"Alright," Bruce said eventually, "What is it this time?"
Jake sat down heavily on a crate and placed his rifle in his lap.
"Look at this place!" he cried, throwing his arms in the air desperately, "There ain't nothing here! It's just a patch of dusty concrete in the middle of a forest. There ain't nothing to fight here. I don't get paid til I kill something! I'm tired of all this waiting." He slumped, putting his head in his hands. Bruce continued to chew his gum for a moment before sitting down next to his companion.

"You know," he said between chewing, "We've got a pretty sweet deal here. I mean, we're guarding the big guy, right? So that means big cash, am I right?" Jake didn't reply, but Bruce was undeterred. "Yeah, course I'm right," he continued, "but there ain't gonna be nobody coming here, right? You know what that means bud? That means we ain't gonna die. And I like being alive!" He gave a hearty laugh and smacked Jake on the back, sending him sprawling in the dirt, which only made Bruce laugh harder.
"Trust me," he laughed, "There ain't nobody else here, and there ain't never gonna be."

BOOM!

The force of dozens of landmines exploding simultaneously flung Bruce from his crate and sent him straight into the wall of the opposite building.
"Holy $hit!" Jake screamed, scrambling backwards and searching frantically for his weapon. Bruce moaned and started to rise slowly, also reaching for his rifle. Huge chunks of concrete slammed into the ground, narrowly missing Jake, who grabbed his rifle and hurried towards Bruce. Just as he was about to reach his partner, Jake heard the bark of a sniper. Bruce fell, dead. Horrified, Jake scuttled for cover inside the nearest building, a small barn.

Mines were still detonating outside the complex, and Jake's hands trembled as he grasped his weapon, watching the door - the wind had swept the scattered dust and all Jake could see was dark figures moving around outside. The building was almost pitch black inside. Jake had been almost deafened by the explosions, but he could still hear the rattle of gunfire and men shouting. It was utter chaos, and Jake was terrified. A shape started to approach the building, although Jake couldn't see clearly who it was - the figure started running, bellowing something Jake couldn't hear. His arms started shaking uncontrollably.

"Go away!" he screamed, but the figure just kept coming. Fear took over and Jake pulled the trigger, spraying bullets out of the building at whatever was trying to get in, and he didn't stop until a sharp click told him he was out of ammo. Jake tossed the weapon away and scampered to the back of the building, crying with fear. He curled into a ball, whimpering, and his eyes darted around the room, seeing danger everywhere.

A few minutes passed, and his hearing had returned a little; the dust had almost settled outside, and Jake could no longer hear any shouting or gunfire. Slowly, he rose to his feet and limped towards to door. He leant against the frame, breathing heavily, looking at the base.

Bodies were everywhere. People he had known. Friends. Jake could feel the bile rising inside him, and he turned back into the barn to escape the sight. A sudden scurry of feet inside the building caused him to jerk back, falling just inside the doorframe. He tried to scramble back, but a dark form emerged from the shadows - Jake had just enough time to scream before he was engulfed in the darkness.

Freedom Headquarters, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

Blake pulled his knife from the rebel's throat, sliding it back into the sheath on his chest. He started walking towards the centre building where Adam had already taken position on the door, clicking his COMM on as he did so.
"Good shooting Greg. Form up on our position," he said.
"Roger that," came the static reply. Although out of the EMP's range, the frequency had caused some slight glitches in their equipment. Blake did not like glitches. He checked his Battle Rifle and took position on the other side of the door to Adam.

"You sure this is the only way in?" Blake asked. Adam nodded without taking his eyes (or his shotgun) off the door.
"Yes sir, there's a trapdoor in here that leads into the bunker. The target has no personal guards - I got the impression he's a bit of a fanatic."
"Most insurgents are," Blake replied through gritted teeth.

Greg rounded the corner, pistol drawn, his sniper strapped to his back.
"I didn't even shoot half these guys," he said, taking his position. "Did you get them?"
"A few," Blake answered, "But we didn't need to get them all - confusion took care of most of them. One guy holed himself up in a barn and shot four of his own men by accident."
"Damn," Greg remarked, grimacing.
"Life's a b*tch," Adam agreed, "But we've still got a mission to complete." Blake nodded.
"Adam, you take point - Greg, bring up the rear. Stay low. We don't know what he's got down there." In union, the three men cocked their weapons.
"Slow and silent?" Greg asked sarcastically. Blake let out a low chuckle and nodded at Adam. The shotgun blasted the rusty door off its hinges, sending it clanging into the building.

"Screw that," Blake replied. The team rushed into the darkness.

Freedom Headquarters, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

The flashlights on the squad's weapons illuminated the room, which was empty and dirty. Adam spotted the metal trapdoor in the corner of the room and cautiously moved towards it while the others swept the room for traps.
"How are we going in?" Adam asked.
"Could be a tripwire on the door," Greg replied, walking over. "I say we use our own explosive." Blake joined them.
"Agreed," he said, "Adam, use the C-7. Controlled detonation."

Adam pulled the container from his belt pack and sprayed a small amount over the trapdoor - it quickly reacted with the oxygen in the air and became a foamy substance. Blake and Greg left the building while Adam trailed a wire from the foam outside. The three crouched behind a pile of crates. Adam looked to Blake, who nodded.
"Hit it."
Adam sent an electrical charge through the wire, which sped towards the foam; in a few seconds the electricity caused the various chemicals to react violently. The metal trapdoor buckled from the detonation and hit the tripwire underneath, causing a second, and much larger explosion. Flame billowed from the building's only door, rising into the air. Soon enough though, the structure was still again.
Blake waited for a moment.
"Let's go," he said, and the team jumped from their cover and into the blackened building once again.

  • 08.25.2010 9:27 AM PDT

Don't cross the white line.

"Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a Halo regular a fish, and he'll complain about the taste, color, type, size, where you found it, how you obtained it, whether or not you'll give him more fish later, and I don't know how many more things.And then when you give him another fish, he'll complain that it's not exactly like the first fish. Rinse and repeat."

Underground Bunker, Freedom Headquarters, Charybdis IX - 23rd March, 2550

Blake let go of the ladder and landed softly on the metal grating. He scanned the thin corridor he was in with his rifle, noting the dirty soil walls mingled with wires and screens. There's some heavy tech down here, he thought suspiciously as the others dropped down behind him. Slowly, the team advanced along the corridor. Blake glanced quickly around the corner and was amazed by what he saw - the "bunker" was a holy grail of stolen technology. UNSC and what looked like Covenant devices were scattered everywhere, with computers of all shapes and sizes hooked to other contraptions by wires, or left unattended around the place. At the head of it all stood their target. He was still wearing an old officer's uniform while he tinkered around with various bits of equipment. Blake took aim with his Battle Rifle, preparing to make the shot.

"Here to kill me, boy?" Major Lopez remarked suddenly in a booming voice. Blake was so startled his bullet hit the roof, ricocheting into a computer screen. He quickly recovered and took aim again.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lopez called, still tinkering with his devices. "Otherwise you'll never find out about John Smith."
Blake's finger paused on the trigger. He was unexpectedly divided - he had the target in his sights and the mission would be over with just a squeeze. But he couldn't pass up an opportunity to gain more information on his elusive employer.

"What are you gonna do?" Greg hissed.
"Keep you weapons on him," Blake replied quietly, "I'm going to disarm him and then we'll interrogate him we've got the time."
The other two nodded and they moved towards the Major, who was trying to attach a wire to a strange Covenant apparatus.
"Put your hands in the air," Blake commanded slowly. Lopez sighed and raised him arms while Blake searched his body for weapons. Satisfied the target was unarmed, Blake signalled for Adam to tie the man.

"What do you know about John Smith?" Blake asked, his weapon never leaving the target. Lopez chuckled.
"Oh, I know plenty about the mysterious John Smith," the Major grinned manically, "But I don't think all of it relates to your current position." Adam gave him a sharp cuff with the butt of his shotgun.
"You'd better start talking real soon," he hissed, "or things are gonna get real simple around here." Lopez laughed nervously.
"John Smith is not who you think he is," the Major said quickly, "He's not with the UNSC."
"We know he's ONI already," Greg interrupted, "Do you have anything more important to tell us or can we complete our mission already?"
"He's not ONI either you idiot!" Lopez said angrily. Blake pressed his rifle against the target's head.

"I'd watch your tone if I were you," he said slowly.
"Or what?" the Major sneered, "You'll kill me like you killed your famil-"
The gunshot echoed in the bunker and the rebel slumped to the ground. Blake stood over him, panting furiously. He hung there for a moment as the other men stared at him, shocked, before leaving abruptly with a final grunt of anger. Greg and Adam watched him leave, and then looked at the floor. For some reason, they didn't want to catch the other's eye; each was afraid of what doubts they might see there. After a moment though, they too left the room, leaving the dead Major on the ground, his dull medals reflecting the low electronic lights.

Mount Tyria, Charybdis IX - 23rd March 2550

"This is the Shadow Skull Squad, requesting pickup at Mount Tyria, over," Adam spoke into the COMM device. His voice was heavy and tired.
"Roger that, ETA 30 minutes," came the static reply.
Adam walked over to where Greg was sat against a rock and slumped next to him. They both watched Blake, who was sat on a fallen tree trunk, staring at the sunset. Their helmets and weapons lay in a pile next to him.
"He said anything yet?" Adam asked quietly.
"Nope," Greg replied. The was a pause.
"You gonna talk to him?" Adam said. Greg sighed.
"Yeah," he conceded, and heaved himself up. Slowly, he joined his friend on the trunk.

"Blake," Greg began, "What Lopez said-"
"He was right though, wasn't he," Blake said suddenly. "It's my fault they're dead. I might as well have pulled the trigger." Greg sighed.
"Blake, there was nothing you could do. Nobody expected the attack...we were lucky the marines found us so quickly or we'd all be dead. They tried their best to save your family...there were too many Covenant, Blake. There were just too many." Tears were welling up in Blake's eyes.
"I should have saved them, Greg," he whispered, "I could have saved them. I could have killed those Covenant." Greg placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"No, Blake," he replied sadly, "You couldn't have. We were just kids. We weren't ready. Their death wasn't your fault it was the Covenant's. That's why we joined the UNSC, remember? To get revenge. That's why we went with those marines that day." He looked Blake in the eye. "So stop blaming yourself, and let's go kill some aliens, shall we?" Despite himself, Blake chuckled slightly. He grasped Greg's arm.

"You're a good friend," he said eventually.
"If you get emotional I'll have to punch you," Greg grinned. This time Blake let out a hearty laugh.
"You punch like a girl anyway," he jibed.
"Oh yeah? Remember the boxing championships back in Basic? You weren't so tough then."
"That's ridiculous, you bribed the judges..."
The bickering continued until the roar of a Pelican's engines signified the completion of their mission; the team clambered aboard, glad to be rid of the planet.
In a twinkling grave, an old uniform rotted away - just another shadow to make up the darkness.

  • 08.25.2010 9:27 AM PDT