- xDARKxL0RDx
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
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.