UNSC INTERMISSION - POST M6

[Frazer]

UNSC INTERMISSION - POST M6

After fighting on a planet with no electricity active at the time and only just making it out there alive, the UNSC has regrouped at Reach. Two weeks later. All Personal are on leave as of this moment and will be able to RP freely on the planet and on the ships as wanted. Do what you must. Relax, eat, sleep and party. Let your characters have some much needed rest.

[MrKill]

(( OOC: I'm going to say a week has passed since M6 due to the fact they'd need to regroup on the planet, evacuate and slip-space back to Reach. ))

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Sir," A wondering voice said as the soft ta, tap, tap by his door aroused the Colonel from his sleep. He had gotten used to leaving his door open, if anything for Axle to come and go as he pleased - but occasionally members of his Regiment needed his attention. John rolled to his back and wearily looked at the figure standing in his door. It had been at least a week since the battle on Refuge and John was recovering from his concussion, lacerations, broken bones and other injuries. "May I enter?"

"For the love of... Kyle, you know you're allowed." John said as he sat up and plucked the corner of his eye to clear the 'sleep' that had formed. His son chuckled and entered the room. "And it's not sir, I'm off duty. It's 'dad' to you." The aged veteran managed to add in before the moment became too awkward. Typically, the UNSC wouldn't let a father and son serve in the same unit but John pulled some strings and as long as he was willing to order Kyle, and Kyle accept orders, HIGHCOMM was okay with it - for now.

"Right..." Kyle replied, sitting down at his desk. It seemed like he was healing well from his broken shin. His injuries were surgically repaired, as were John's. The only things the two Marines had to mend was fatigue, depression and in John's case a concussion. "I wanted to talk about the last mission, something is bothering me." Kyle added, in a monotone of depression.

John stood up and shuffled over to his office chair, "Alright. I'm a Colonel before a dad. I'm not good at this."

"Yeah, if it were something personal like having a kid I'd talk to mom." Kyle chuckled nervously back. "But this is something to do with loss of life. I've lead men to their deaths, I understand it must be required to an officer to make that decision-"

"But we try to bring all our men back," John interrupted. "The decimation of your platoon was not your fault. Three fourths of them were still seventy five thousand feet in the air in a brick called a Pelican dropship when that artifact went off. You're lucky you survived your own dropships impact. As I recall, you reported you woke up buried in rubble?"

"Yes." Kyle replied.

"So why do you think the loss of your platoon was your fault?" John asked softly.

"Two people, including me, survived from my unit." Kyle responded, looking down at the desk. "Some Private I don't even know that's too mentally unstable to return to active duty and myself. My platoon Sergeant, squad leaders, fireteam leaders. All dead."

"At this point in the war, son, any person above the rank of Major has had hundreds of men under his command killed in action. If you want to get angry, blame the Covenant. If you want revenge, seek it on the Covenant. We owe it to the men who've fallen so far in this war to destroy the Covenant any place we can." John said with a sigh.

"Dad, do you know how many casualties the UNSC Military has taken?" Kyle asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, I do."

John signed and leaned back in his chair. "Millions, at the very least."

"And total," Kyle started to ask before choking on his words. "Total human casualties?"

"Roughly fifteen billion," John replied and for the slightest moment felt a ping of failure. "But it would be 50 billion if we weren't fighting the Covenant."

"How do you know they never tried a diplomatic solution to this war?"

"That's way above my paygrade, son. Even if I did know, it wouldn't change anything now. We're at war, and we need to focus on that war. I don't want your mind polluted in the fantasy of there ever being an alliance of some sort with the Covenant."

John opened his cabinet on his desk and pulled out some cards. Kyle had given him those cards ten years ago, maybe his young son would recognize them. He set the case on the desk and started to shuffle the cards, and apparently his son did remember. He leaned back but his mood didn't brighten.

"One game of poker," John said as Axle came into the room. It gave John an idea. "I win, Axle stays here. You win, you can take him to deck 53 with the rest of the Marines and socialize with people you actually like."

Kyle grinned, "I like you."

"You like it when I pay for your dinner," John corrected. "And your house, bills, education..." John added with a lopsided smile. "But you've never truly 'liked' me, have you?"

"Depends on how you use 'like'. Shut up and deal, sir."

John chuckled, "I'll show you how an old man wipes the floor with those fancy silver bars on your shoulder."

[Wax™]

Second Lieutenant Justin 'Jay' Jenkins

UNSCS Iowa 

Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser 

Poked his head out of one of the many storage cupboards on deck 53, the deck in which Justin's Platoon was assigned to, along with many others. However with the total annihilation of the Seventh Marines there was a lot more room on board the ship and a lot less activity. Noting that the large hallway was clear aside from a couple young marines strolling to the elevator, Jay ducked his head back inside the small storage cupboard, eye's gazing his nude Platoon Sergeant Clair Hunt and the only surviving member of his Platoon. The five year elder Sergeant and Jay had an on going affair with each other for a decent amount of time now.

"I've come to think that we utilize these storage rooms more than the people assigned to run them." Jay said letting out a soft chuckle.

"Wont be like this forever Jay..." The attractive and slim woman replied, standing to tie her hair back in a pony-tail and then proceed to re-clothe herself in her fatigues. "...Once the Colonel give's the order this place is going to be crowded with trigger happy replacements, half of which will probably die on the first deployment."

"Yeah..." Jay said, dressing himself. He fell silent, him and Clair grieved in completely different way's over the loss of their comrades. It was harder for Jay, it was his first major deployment and everyone under his command, excluding Clair had been killed. Either due to the EMP or the Covenant.

"Jay?" Clair's voice shot into Jay's head like a bullet. He looked to her and she was already dressed, looking down he was still holding his boots while standing shirtless, his gaze drifting over to the discarded 'rubber' in the corner before looking over to Clair.

"Didn't you say you want to see the Colonel?" She said with a slender blonde brow perked.

"Oh... Yeah, hey you can get out of here... I'll see you soon." He said stepping over to her and giving the woman a light peck on the lips before dropping his boots and sliding the rest of his fatigues on, followed by his boots.

------------------------------------------

Jay was now on Colonel Killinger's deck, he made a quick pit-stop back at his quarters to properly discard of the 'rubber', clean himself up and dress in his officer uniform with his silver gold bars. He also had a two hard-copy files belonging to two seasoned marines he'd like assigned to his platoon was it was filled up, the files belonging to Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers and Private First Class Daniel Mendoza.

Jay stopped a few meters away from the Colonel's door noticing it was open, he took a few breaths in and took a literal minute to calm himself and straighten out his uniform, he idolized the Colonel like a father, seeing as him and his own father were best friends in their day and closer comrades. Nodding to himself Jay stepped off and made his way into the Colonel's office or he stopped in the door-well anyway, once there he quickly stepped to attention and gave the Colonel a crisp and respectful salute, as you do to a superior officer as he did so he noticed that Kyle was in the room too.

"Colonel Killinger Sir, First Lieutenant Killinger Sir." He said, before dropping his salute, Kyle was a Lieutenant too, but in the technical rank he was still a superior over Jay.

"If I may Sir..." He said taking two steps further into the office. "I have here the files of two separate marines who I'd like assigned to my Platoon before the rest is filled by freshly trained replacements Sir." Jay nodded at his own words, he felt as if he hadn't said Sir so many times in seconds then he did just now.

[Faclan]

ONI Agent Hyde - Section 1
Military Hospital on the surface of Reach
Looking for a certain Marine.

One would think, that with Chris being ONI, that he wouldn't be scared about going to see a Marine. A Marine in hospital no less. But scared he was as he tightened the grip on the envelope under his arm and left the information desk at the front. The male receptionist had almost told him to bugger off as he wasn't in the black ONI uniform but after showing his ID card he quickly straightened up and directed him to the room and floor. He wasn't the only one not in uniform here as there were soldiers families all around. Either revealed that their Soldier family member was still there or awaiting word if they had survived. Shutting his eyes a little as he moved past a few of them he knew the news would not be good for pretty much every single one of them. As ONI he had seen the real missions results...all those lost lives to this Mysterious Covenant device - well Forerunner really but it sure seemed to serve the Covenants purpose; sure they were weakened by it too but their enemy force was nearly wiped out before they even landed. Thank God for that Jiralhanae mutiny, he mused to himself as he moved past two children on the way to the room. He kept walking toward the...stairs, it would give him more time to try and think this over. Adjusting his jacket and jeans a little Chris scooted past one of the few happy families as they were about to be allowed to head up to see their likely wounded family member. Entering the stairwell he looked back down at the envelope and nodded as he started the decent climb to the fifth floor.

If ONI had not wanted him to tell Sorelson about the Kig-Yar he had captured...months ago now, they would have stopped him. This was ONI after all, and as one of them he knew full well that they knew that he had taken the file and made a copy - even if it was just a pencil physical one. But honestly after the disaster and massacre of the last mission CJ wondered if this was going to come at a bad time anyway? If only he hadn't been on that other mission, he could have caught Sorelson before he left for this mission. But nothing for it now; he was here, climbing the stairs, third floor, and wouldn't leave now. It wasn't his duty or anything to let the Marine know what happened to one of the likely numerous Kig-Yar he had seen over his, very impressive, career - but this Kig-Yar had helped despite the injuries. That was worth something at least. But Chris stopped on floor four, staring at the number four, as he bit his lip a little. He would have to be careful about his words here. If he let slip that there were other Kig-Yar that were willing to help, some of those unaffiliated ones, that may cause a ripple effect and then the rumors would start to fly. Shrugging he had faith in himself that he wouldn't make a big mess of it and started up the last set of stairs until he arrived at the fifth floor.

Exiting into the hallway he adjusted his coat again before glancing at the numbers on the wall, 582 was what he was looking for, and after seeing that the pre fifties were left he went right. There wasn't much noise on this floor as it was mostly for the recovering Marines - where recovering meant in some cases just hanging onto life. But as Chris approached 82 he slowed down as he thought of a new niggle in the plan...What if Sorelsons family was here? Sorelson was old enough to be his own dad, just, and he had to remind himself that not all Marines were the stereotypical 'no family so enlisted' type. He couldn't very well disclose secret information with them there. They were Earth based but they may have come out to see him. Clearing his throat he picked up the pace again until he was right outside the doorway to the room where he nodded to himself and made sure the envelope was still sealed as he double checked the name on the door and stepped inside.

"Captain Sorelson?" He said, scanning around the room to make sure Sorelson was actually here and if they were alone.

(Hopefully alright Cable P:)

[Cabel]

[Epsilon Eridani System: Planet Reach: Viery Territory: Utkozet Province: Alfold: Manassas City: Manassas Military Hospital: Recovery Ward: Room 582: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Captain Sorelson?” a figure asked from the door to the Recovery Room assigned to the aging marine.

“Present and accounted for,” Mark said having used the bed’s controls to manipulate it to allow him to sit up a bit without aggravating the still recovering thigh following the hours of surgery. The leg being a loss had been amputated, but Mark had been sedated enough that he hadn’t even felt the laser scalpels at work and hadn’t even been conscious enough to have heard that his new leg had been flash cloned. If it had been up to him, considering the expediency needed to address other more injured marines he would have gone with a titanium prosthetic although being back on Reach had meant the hospital had lockers containing flash cloned limbs on hand and quite frankly if the new leg worked out as well as the last he wouldn’t find any grounds to complain. Evidently, the nurses had wheeled him into one of the Recovery wards on the fifth floor to allow him some much needed rest and to avoid being disturbed.

“Either you’re here for the Jello special, or you’re here for a follow-up on the after-action report,” Mark said, looking over at the guest in the room. “Pull up a chair. I do apologize if I don’t stand to greet you, but leave it to a piece of rebar to say otherwise. I grew up around hospital food, even had it as an afternoon snack after school, but there’s a part of me that wishes they could prepare a nice well-done steak with the trimmings and sautéed in onions. Pardon the rant,…I didn’t even fire my weapon during the last mission. It’s the first time that’s ever happened, and it’s making me a little frustrated,” he chuckled softly. At least, his sense of humor had been left intact. “You’re from ONI, aren’t you? Oh, don’t worry. I’m not the sort to be afraid of ONI agents. Your walk gave you away. You’ve been in the field, and it shows,” he said, having waited until the door to the room closed.

[RiddL]

Staff Sergeant Kai (Wolf) Blacklock

Kai looked towards O'Neal's house, where his wife and 3 kids lived. He walked up to the steps, a cigar hanging from his lips. He stopped at the door, brought his hand up and slowly knicked on the door.

The door opened a fraction and Kai looked down to see the youngest of the kids look at him, Kai knelt down, "Is your mother here?" he asked politely tobthe little girl. The door closed and in seconds the door opened again. This time greeted by a young woman.

"Oh hey Kai... Where's Shikoba?" she asked curiously, Kai looked at here sadly, "We need to talk Clair, may I come in?" Kai asked, feeling the dog-tags in his pocket grow heavier as he stepped inside the house.

Clair led him to a seat and offered him whiskey, which Kai gladly accepted. "Clair, I just came back from Refuge, in the outer colonies." Kai reached into his pocket and pulled out two things, Shikoba's dog-tags and Shikoba's helmet.

He readied himself for the story he was going to tell.

He took a deep drink of whiskey and started to tell Clair the story. He started with the drop from the ship and how ut had gone horribly wrong with the EMP, he then went on about finding Shikoba in he droppod injured.

He continued his story and finally got to the worst part, Shikoba's gruesome death. He stopped when he noticed that all three of the kids were watching.

"Ah... Clair, should the children hear this?" Kai asked pouring himself another whiskey, Clair looked at them, "Kids come here, I know that you all heard it all, might as well hear the worst of it." She said with tears forming.

The three kids, two boys and a girl all cautiously sat next to their mother. Kai resumed his story.

"We were running away from a large Covenant patrol and we were conpletely and utterly fucked by this point. We ran town an alley with plenty of cover, one suppressing, one running. It was my turn to run and I turned to see Grunt with a plasma grenade in its hand. I thought it was going to throw it over us, try and stop our route, but it didn't... It threw it at us directly, for me time slowed down, I watched the grenade saw through the air and land on your husbands leg. He looked at me sadly, a small ghost of a smile touched his lips. Before I knew it, the grenade went off and your holding the only identifiable remains... His dog-tags... And his helmet." Kai finished, now drinking straight from the bottle of whiskey, which was nearly empty.

Clair and the children were weeping and Kai looked at them and nearly broke himself, he walked to the door and said "I am truly sorry I couldn't bring him back alive." He left the building and made for his own quarters.

(Sorry post isn't in normal format... Doing this of a phone is difficult)

[Faclan]

ONI Agent Hyde - Section 1
Military Hospital on the surface of Reach
Taking the step.

Standing in the doorway as the old war-dog replied Chris couldn't help himself but smiling and chuckling, mostly all the worry he had that this meeting would be awkward or difficult melted away as he waited until Sorelson was finished before he nodded and replied. "Sorry sir, but I'm here to talk to you about our Lord and Savior the Sun and all the gifts she gives. But good eye Captain," he started as he entered the room and shut the door, the hospital lights in the room dimmed a little to help Mark rest but Chris turned them back up to full, to make reading easier when the time came, as he moved over to the chair. "I am from ONI yes, Christopher John Hyde, Section 1, expert on Covenant languages and field decoder." Sticking out his hand to shake he smiled still as he firmly shook Marks hand before nodding and settling back in the chair, the envelope set over his knees as he took a breath and started on the more difficult part of this meeting.

"I'm here to discuss with you something...different than those two. I shouldn't need to remind you that it doesn't leave this room - but there it is just in case." He said, undoing the twine around the bop at the top of the envelope as he continued. "You've quite an impressive service record Sorelson," perhaps a little misleading but he was ONI after all. "One that would have thought you would be a desk officer these days, but you seem to love being in the thick of it with your troops - have to respect that. And it’s because of this respect, plus some other factors that I've come to you today." Taking the stack of five hand written pencil pages out of the envelope as he set it on top of the envelope. "During the large deployment previous to this one, on a large jungle planet, you also didn't fire your weapon much and seemed to be in quite a pickle before you were helped by a very unlikely individual." Turning the pages around to be in better position for Mark to read when he handed it over he continued, looking a bit sad now.

"You named him Spike and Big Bird, the young Kig-Yar, but is name was Bep. I saw was because unfortunately an...exuberant Agent executed him during his further questioning after he was taken off the Iowa. It's unfortunate, and I'm sorry it happened, but you likely expected it from us. This is the transcript of the session - I'll understand if you'd like me to leave after you have finished reading." With that he handed the pages over and sat back in his chair. The Agents names replaced by Agent 1-3 and the script containing what was actually said by Bep and what the translator said to the Agents and Bep. Chris watching Sorelsons face for what reaction he had to the news being broke and as he read...not really sure what to expect as this was a new situation.

(Ehhh only kind of happy with this post. Hopefully not too soon, maybe they can go get some food after the reading and talking is done P: .)

[Cabel]

[Epsilon Eridani System: Planet Reach: Viery Territory: Utkozet Province: Alfold: Manassas City: Manassas Military Hospital: Recovery Ward: Room 582: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“The Jungle Planet,…most fetid mud ball I’d ever set foot on. A lot of good boys and girls, all of them marines, went into that furnace goaded by a Light Colonel…excuse me, Lieutenant Colonel’s orders to capture a high priority target. I won’t go into details since with you being ONI you’d be more than familiar with them. I fired my weapon, but…it was a disaster. Let’s leave it at that,” Mark explained having shaken the man’s hand in return. “An old drill instructor used to have a saying, back in my boot camp days when I was learning how to set beds with medical corners and coming to understand the life of a marine. He used to say, that if you want to lead you have to know. You can’t be an officer without being a marine first, and you can’t be a marine if you aren’t willing to get your hands dirty and crawl through the muck. To say it was instilled in us, drilled into us every waking moment of the day is an understatement. I can’t speak for the marines in my training platoon or my barracks, but I will say that I came to understand his teachings in my sleep. Another officer, a General during the American Civil War once said that if you love the army you join the army. If you want to lead, you must learn to destroy what you love. Brutal words, and I will honestly say that I love the Marine Corps but I won’t willingly destroy it or those under my command. Those marines have given me their trust, and in turn I must trust them to keep themselves alive and to take as many Covenant or Insurrectionists out as possible. I had my fill of holding a desk job during my tour as a D.I. at Fort Lewis and later as a Senior D.I., and that’s why after nine years I requested a transfer to a front-line unit. I was later transferred to the Task Force Seventy-Seven under then First Lieutenant Killinger whom is now Colonel Killinger. Time flies, as the saying goes,”

“Spike…I do remember him. I remember the Oblivion-One-One crash site, the burning hull and the marines that were trapped inside. The trees around us were engulfed in flame, and the downed pelican’s fuel tanks had been ruptured. I was injured, after an interesting ride on the back of a giant grasshopper. It’s in the report, I’m sure. Spike approached us from the foliage, disarmed himself and threw himself at our mercy. I remembered the old code, the old motto, that a marine represents himself or herself on the field and represents the entire Corps in how they treat their prisoners. In this case, it was in a non-hostile contact with a Jackal. It surprised us all, and while a trigger happy Private First Class that had gathered with us had been all-too-willingly to place one between the Jackal’s eyes I wasn’t willing to do that. Spike was more afraid of us than we were of him, and as the senior most marine on the scene it fell to me to help address his injuries. I wouldn’t say I’d expected him to help us, but he did. He was afraid, hurt, bleeding, dehydrated, and among what in his eyes had been a group of aliens. That’s the same throughout history’s wars dating back to before antiquity, written history, that one side is told stories that the other side is full of demons or bogeymen, I don‘t mean to preach, but we both know it‘s true. I‘m not saying there isn‘t a need for it, or even a reason. That day, that moment, Spike did the unexpected. He helped us, by offering his plasma grenade and events happened quickly after that. He even dragged me back onto the Colonel‘s pelican after a brute spike had impaled my calf. If it weren‘t for him, we wouldn‘t have been able to have saved as many marines from that downed bird as we had,”

“You say he was executed by an exuberant agent? Somehow, that doesn‘t surprise me. I wish he had been allowed to live, you must understand, but the wishes of a single marine doesn‘t change the war we‘ve found ourselves in. You know, I visited him in his cell aboard the Iowa with a meal of a nice steak, liver, onions, mushrooms and some other things I can‘t really recall at this moment. I told him I‘d do what I could, in his language at least as best as I could manage. For all I know, I probably told him our mothers had pink feathers. I told him that I‘d do what I could, that I‘d put a good word in for him for the guy standing before those pearly gates. I wish I‘d been able to keep him from his fate…do you have any children, Agent Hyde…Christopher, if it’s alright if I can call you that?” He asked, reading over the transcript from the interrogation or more aptly torture session behind doors even Mark‘s clearance restricted him from. “I have two kids, a son and a daughter. My daughter‘s followed my grandmother‘s footsteps in the medical field, and my son‘s…the last I‘d heard he‘d enlisted in the UNSC Army Garrison out of Fort Lewis. I‘m not going to say I‘m fighting for Mom, Apple Pie, the Neighborhood PTSA or anything like that. I‘m out there in the trenches and foxholes with my brothers and sisters of the Corps, with Agents of ONI, with the officers aboard the massive Navy ships. I don‘t know what Spike was fighting for, but that day…he was fighting for us. He put his life on the line for us, and he was afraid of what his own people would do. Am I saying I know what goes on in the mind of the Covenant other than genocide of our entire species? No. I fought the Insurrectionists from twenty-five eighteen to twenty-five twenty-two, and was more than willing to pick up a rifle. I think even some of my old professors have recordings from those meetings, and class debates on the subject,”

“I know ONI has its duties, as we all do, but I can‘t say I‘m too pleased to know that they‘re willing to execute a sentient being whose only crime had probably been being drummed into the service of the Covenant. That is, with the exception of you, Agent Hyde. I can tell from how you‘ve taken your own time to pay an old devil dog a visit, and convey the details of that transcript with the other information willingly that you‘re not the kind to do something like that without seeking out other alternatives. I am grateful, and I do thank you more than you might think, about knowing what happened to Spike or Bep. Reading over this transcript, those agents didn’t gain any pertinent information from him or through their methods. It’s a damned shame. Maybe next time when the Seventh Regiment ships out, those Agents can stand in the foxholes with us. It’s wishful thinking, I know,”

“I’m sorry about the rant. How long are you on Reach?”

(OOC: Perhaps they could head out to get something, lunch or the like after they've discussed things).

[Faclan]

ONI Agent Hyde - Section 1
Military Hospital on the surface of Reach
Apologies, secret information, and lunch.

Sitting quietly as Sorelson went over his own rendition of the report from the Jungle Hyde just listened. He knew all of this, or knew where to get that info, as Sorelson correctly pointed out but it was always better to hear it from a soldier that was actually there. It just gave the ONI agent more respect for the man for how much he's been there, adding onto it the prosthetic leg from his most recent mission, and it was very impressive.

"No children of my own Captain, never really have time to look for that special someone and don't really want to try to bring a child into this world when myself and likely partner would never see them. Maybe I'll go for adoption but its not high on my list currently." He took off his glasses and wipes them off on his shirt as he shrugged a little. "As I said I wasn't in that small room so I couldn't ask Bep why he really decided to help you; but from what I know I would guess because he was trying to save lives, his own specifically because as soon as he didn't try to kill you all the Sangheili would have likely killed him. He likely hoped that by saving you and the other marines we wouldn't kill him, which if I had my way he would have just been imprisoned until we found a better place for him...but what's done is done unfortunately and we cant bring him back."

He did take out his notepad and make a note about the meal that the Kig-Yar ate however, thinking that any kind of information like that would be helpful as he couldn't help his ONI side coming out a little. "Steak, liver, and onions? Interesting, didn't know they would like food like that." Looking up at Sorelson again he set his pencil down and shrugged a little. "Christopher, Chris, CJ, all are fine - would you prefer I call you Sorelson, Captain, or Mark? But I can give you a little information about the Kig-Yar and what we know about them." He straightened up a little before starting, just keeping himself from looking around the room as if he was giving up the best gossip. "The UNSC has met a few Kig-Yar that were not members of the Covenant, and since that have found many others like them. They are not dedicated members of the Covenant like the Sangheili and seem to either be contracted or forced into service. Judging by how fast Bep was willing to try and help I would guess he was forced into it and was looking for a way out...unfortunately that way out didn't work for him."

He sighed a little as Sorelson finished and shook his head a little. "I know, and I keep seeing our Duty to protect Humanity by all means and researching techniques to improve out ability to do that - neither of which called for the execution of a young Kig-Yar who didn't want to be there and tried to help save some lives - but that's the side effect of war, rage and anger abound and individuals will take any chance to get some revenge for it. Not that I blame them for the devastation that the Covenant have brought down...just Poor Bep." He managed a smile however when Mark thanked him and nodded in return. "Thanks, that also means a lot that you perhaps see ONI, or at least some of us, in a better light because of it. After I read the report I thought it only right that you at least knew what happened since you seemed to want to help him in return, more than any other marine or officer on that mission. As for them standing with you on the next mission, it might actually be myself not them, but that's something at least." He kept smiling as he waved his hand a little. "Its not a problem, the ranting is at least some kind of talking, and at ONI we get very little of normal talking these days. But I'm here for the next few days at least. Probably going to go meet up with another Agent for some proper food. If your able and willing I'll extend the invitation to you as well, sir."

(Go meet up with Llau's Mike perhaps :>)

[Wax™]

Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers 

United Nations Space Command Ship; Iowa 

Deck 58; Live Fire Training Facility 

Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers took in a breath closing his eye's he bent his knee down and prepared to slide into a prone position. Resting the underside of his barrel on a sandbag he removed a magazine from one of the many pouches on his webbing and slid it into the magazine dock before pulling back the cocking mechanism to his MA37 Assault Rifle, as he let go and the cocking mechanism shot back into place sending the first round to his clip of shredder rounds into the barrel Jason slung his finger around the trigger and pulled within a second of the load. The thirty two round magazine was depleted within seconds. Jason picked himself up from his prone position, left hand sliding out from under the MA37 and pressing the magazine release button of his weapon, the empty shredder mag sliding out from the port and dropping down on the metal floor of the Live Fire Room.



Jason bent down momentarily and placed his MA37 on the the ground before stepping out into the Live Fire Range, he looked around the room and noted that he was the only Marine in large room. Other than a Naval Electrician who was working on one of the electrical panels in the wall. Stopping a meter before his target his eye's scanned over what was a hard plastic model of a Covenant Elite. The shredder rounds, which are designed to splinter on impact completely obliterated the center of the Elite model with deadly accuracy. Although in actual combat the shredder rounds wouldn't work at all against an Elite due to the Covenant made energy shields that the Elites use.



Nodding to himself, Jason spun on his heels and made his way back to the area in which he set down his MA37, as he walked back he closed his eye's and let out a sigh. Images of combat from Refuge began to roll over his eye'lids like a projector screen. He could hear the screams of his Corporals and the cries of his Privates as the Pelican carrying his squad hurtled toward the ground. The only reason Jason managed to survive is because he was able to strap himself in before his Pelican hurtled into a huge office building. Everyone on the Pelican perished aside from a few lucky Privates, Jason himself was impaled by a small iron bar, luckily missing all his internal organs.



"Staff Sergeant." A voice crept into his consciousness through the sound of screams in his flashback.



Jason slowly opened his eye's and was greeted by crippled view of one of the Privates that survived the Pelican crash, he was currently sitting in a wheel chair with a broken shin, ankle and collar bone. Most of the wounds he received were actually given to him during combat, aside from the ankle.



"Staff Sergeant... I'm being taken down to Reach and, before they take me away I wanted to say thank you... If it were not for you I don't think I would be here today..." The man stopped suddenly as the nurse pushing him lent down to whisper.



"Well I need to go now Staff, my shuttle is leaving soon... Thank you again, I can't wait to fight beside you again." The man then proceeded to give a crooked salute, Jason stepped forward and gently grasped the mans arm before lowering it. He then proceeded to snap to attention and salute the young and temporarily crippled Private as he made his swift departure from the Live Fire facility.

As the Private and his nurse left the room, Jason's eye's shifted over to the electrical technician who had turned his gaze away from his own work to watch Jason and the Private converse in their short amount of time. Jason sighed to himself and looked down to his MA37, taking a knee he took his MA37 in one hand and the empty magazine in another, making for one of two exits out of the training room, as he left he threw the empty magazine in a discard bin. Storing his MA37 in an armory just across from the room, he then made his way to the elevator. Heading for empty sleeping bays of deck 53.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

Kyle had already won a pot of ten credits. They both put twenty credits on the table and who ever won the money won the game, and it didn't finish until one or the other had no more credits left to bet. Unfortunately, it appeared Kyle was as good a bluffer as John was when he was younger. Like father like son John thought.

"Didn't you say you were going to wipe the floor with me?" Kyle said flatly.

"Nope," John replied. "Never said anything like that." He continued, before cursing in his mind that the hand he was dealt was pure shit. He had a jack of clubs and a two of hearts, what could he do? Only one thing. He raised the pot from four credits to six. Kyle took a minute to think before calling. John nodded slightly and, with a hope of winning the pot, knocked on the table.

"Check," He said but in reality he wanted to fold. "What are you going to do?"

Since John and Kyle played a different poker style, where they'd lay the three cards down after someone checked instead of periodically like normal, it was really half luck and half percentage. Kyle checked and John felt a ping of regret. He wanted Axle to stay up here. He put down the three cards and grinned slightly. He had a high card facing up, an Ace of clubs.

Then Kyle laid his hand down. The fucker. While John got a two pair from the three cards on the table he didn't expect it when Kyle laid down four of a kind and immediately scooped up the pot with his evil-ish grin and a half ass'd attitude that could have been mistaken as a punching bag with bones. John leaned back in his chair and shook his head, unbelievable.

Kyle shuffled the cards and handed them out, giving John what appeared to be a decent hand. With a king of hearts and a queen of hearts, he held the royal -- parents? John liked the odds but knew it was a dangerous hand to have been dealt from the start.

"All in," Kyle said. "Looks like I'm going home with forty credits."

"There is two ways to call your bluff, son." John replied. "Your checks are going red and your bending the cards. Either way," John said as he dealt the three cards. He was about to lay down his own hand when Kyle - the little shit - laid down a royal flush of his own with a full blown laugh. With the cards on the table; a ten, queen and jack... Kyle supplemented it with a king and ace he held. "Oh you're a little shit."

"Axle!" Kyle called.

John leaned back in his chair again and watched the canine enter the room, followed half a minute later by Second Lieutenant Jenkins. Kyle remained quiet as the young Marine officer spoke, as did John. The young officer wanted two veteran Marines to be assigned to his unit, a Staff Sergeant and Private First Class who had served with John previously.

Kyle took the files from Jay and handed them to his father. John read over the front page of the CSV quickly and nodded in understanding. The Staff Sergeant would make a good platoon Sergeant and - like most platoons in the 7th Marines now - the billet was available for anyone willing to take it. The Private First Class was trained as a Marine from the dissolved Task Force Seven Seven.

Half the Marines in the 7th Marines were from Task Force Seven Seven, now only few veterans from the former unit remained. Unfortunately, most of them were officers or staff non-commissioned officers who barely saw the battlefield anymore. That, or most of them were to injured to continue service and medically discharged. Technology fixed some things, and despite humanity living in near perfect health there were some injuries that just never healed.

"Alright, Second Lieutenant. Submit the changes into the computer and I'll approve them when I get a chance to log into the PersComm database. Iowa's uplink dishes are still down which is why our 'net is still slow right now." John said, handing Kyle the files who in turn handed them back to the young officer. "Is there anything else you needed, son?"

[AlphaWolf]

Hospital Corpsman Second Class Mark Phillips

New Alexandria, Reach

One Last Hurrah

     Mark had been on leave from active duty for a while due to some unforeseen circumstances requiring him to immediately head home to Earth.  The problem had taken longer than expected, and he had had to get his leave extended.  He was now back on active duty and headed for his old unit, the 7th Marines.  Currently, the 7th was on leave on Reach, so Mark had decided to go for one last hurrah before he got back to the nitty-gritty of combat.


    Which was why he was sitting in a bar, dressed in civvies, hoping some other military person would stroll in so that he could have someone to talk with.  Even though he was dressed in civilian clothes, he was obviously military.  High and tight haircut, hardened face and callused hands.  Not to mention the tattoos peeking out from under his short sleeves.


     Nodding to the barkeep, Mark ordered a beer and looked around the room.  Maybe someone wanted to talk.  Or something.

[Wax™]

Second Lieutenant Justin 'Jay' Jenkins 

UNSCS Iowa  

Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser 

Jenkins nodded as Colonel Killinger spoke, however throughout the entire conversation his gaze was fixed wandering the room, eye's jumping over to Kyle once and then to Axle before returning back to the Colonel once he finished speaking. The Colonel handed the two hard-copy files over to Kyle and Kyle handed them back to Justin, stretching his arm out he took them and tucked them under his arm and then the Colonel opened his mouth and spoke again.

"Is there anything else you needed, son?"

'Son' the word cut through Justin like a scalding hot samurai sword, however the mental pain seemed to be localized in his heart. Mentally Justin flash backed to one of the last times he saw his father before the mans final deployment, the two were standing in an empty field in the middle of a reserve playing catch with a football. In the Physical world, Justin's chin dropped and his mouth hung open a small amount whilst his eye's seemed to go red, yet he didn't cry. After about a literal seven second awkward delay, Justin finally collected himself, lifting his mouth and clearing his throat excessively for two seconds.

"Uhm... Ughm... No Da---." Justin turned his head quickly to look away and collect himself again. "No Sir... I, I should get back to my room and send out the assignment forms for these two men... Thank you Sir." 

He said, but before the anyone would have the time to say anything, Justin snapped a lightning fast salute and high-tailed it out of there, sweating heavily by the time he made it halfway down the hall from what felt like a panic-attack, once he made it to the elevator shaft he pressed the down button repeatedly, waiting for the elevator impatiently.

[Wax™]

CMDR. Vickers J. Samantha

UNSCS Gemini - The Bridge

Orbiting Reach

Samantha stood rigid, arms bent around her back with one of her hands clamping down firmly around the opposite arms wrist, though not tight enough to cut off circulation. Her oceanic blue eye's scanning one of three large screens fixed a few meters before her command chair. Playing on one of the screens was a recording of a small child aged about six, surrounded by other children with a adult male shadowing her, panning into view was a pink birthday cake. There was a two second delay before the young child blew out the candles. Seconds after the man shadowing the small girl bent down and pointed to the lens of the camera before waving.

"Say hello to mommy." The dark haired male said, followed by the sweet, innocent voice of the small child.

"Hi mommy... Please come back sooon!"

The recording then cut out for two seconds before starting up and repeating itself over, the same young girl. Her hair a beautiful golden blonde and her eye's a bright sky blue, something you'd only see on a perfect sunny day. Samantha's usually rigid and stern facial features broke contrast and a smile formed on the woman's face. Samantha was the only one on the bridge at the current time, none of the one hundred marines or ODST's were on-board not any of the non-essential naval personal. So right now it was just Samantha and about thirty other souls.

The familiar sound of the bridges automatic sliding doors sounded through the air as the recording went silent and prepared for another round, Samantha quickly turned her head to the side a small amount in order to see the door out the corner of her eye whilst simultaneously ordering for the recording to end by pressing a button on her chair just a foot behind her. Looking at the intruder out the corner of her eye before slowly panning her head back front and removing any trace of her once obvious smile, her face once again a cold reflection of a ghost.

"Can I help you Lieutenant Hopper... I do not believe you are to be on the bridge with the rest of the crew for the next two hours."

The Operations Officer, Second Lieutenant Hopper, stood a little off-balanced as it seemed he had just woken up. Samantha inhaled softly before exhaling just the same, she then applied some pressure on one of her heels and twisted herself around before making her way over to the Operations office. Her slightly raised boots clapping at the titanium flooring as she did so, her gray officer's uniform in pristine condition with no notable mistakes what so ever.

"Second... Lieutenant, you are not fit to be on this bridge, nor are any of the other officers I assume are waiting outside, fit to be on this bridge. You have bag's under your eye's, your hair is messy, your uniform is creased and due to your recent awakening your mental capacity is not what it should be to be standing on my bridge... Now. Take several steps back until you are standing in the hall."

The man gulped down a clot of saliva and stepped back into the hallway, a thick layer of perspiration forming on his forehead as he does so. As Samantha follows the man outward into the hallway, she shoots her head to the left and notices the rest of the main bridge crew waiting just outside the door.

"Line up against the wall with your comrades Lieutenant Hopper."

"Yes Ma'am."

Samantha closed her eye's and waited for the man to do as she said before taking in a breath and stepping out before the four primary officers.

"At attention please."

She said, half a second later the four officers recognized her order and stood quickly at attention. Samantha paced back and forth between the four a few times before stepping in front of Hopper, her cold unforgiving eye's scanning Hopper momentarily before moving onto the next officer, and then the next, before finishing and stepping out back before them.

"I expect more from you three..." All four of the officers stood confused for a moment before Samantha continued. "Out of the four of you, Ensign Kelly here seems to be the only one in fit condition to even present himself on my bridge... He has groomed himself to protection, his uniform seems recently ironed and is well maintained and he smells of coffee and bacon which means he has recently indulged in a energizing breakfast... Hendricks, Hopper and Kemp... Report to the mess for breakfast and send three engineers in your place to the bridge... Ensign you have the helm." Samantha said, she remained stationery for a few moments before perking a brow.

"Dismissed."

She said, the four officers lifting their arms up for crisp salutes before setting down the hall, apart from Ensign Joshua Kelly who made his way into the bridge, quickly followed by Samantha.

"If there are any communications you are to send them through me am I clear?"

"Yes Commander."

Samantha nodded before spinning on her heels and making for the exit, she then twisted herself to the right stepping down the hall the opposite way of which the three officers previously departed down. After a few twists and turns she soon found herself at the door of her quarters. Stepping into her quarters the small door soon closed behind her and locked as Samantha pressed a button on the inside control panel. Stepping over to her fine walnut wood desk and dropping down into her chair.

"Play recording."

She said softly, leaning into her chair and breaking her rigid composure the recording of the young girl began to play once more.

"Hi mommy... Please come back sooon!" The recording said once more.

SSGT. Bowers M. Jason

New Alexandria. Reach

Drinking away sorrows

Jason had caught a shuttle down from the UNSCS Iowa orbiting Reach cause he had been stuck on it ever since they returned from Refuge and he needed to walk on solid ground, something that wasn't a ship or being shot at my an enemy of any sort. Jason walked down one of the many streets of New Alexandria looking for a place where he can sit back and reflect on what had occurred the last couple of weeks. Jason was dressed in uniform of course, ordinary digital UNSC Marine camo, he had his sleeves rolled down because the citizens of, well, anywhere seemed to respect him more when they couldn't see his tattoo sleeves.

"This seems like an alright place."

He heard the distant voice of one of his old squad Sergeants as Jason pulled up outside a relatively quiet bar, well, quite compared to most of the bars here in Alexandria, it was also one of the most popular bars for soldiers to go to so when you walked in you were usually given a warm greeting. Sighing, Jason put one foot in front of the other and stepped into the bar. He wasn't greeted like usual because the bar seemed to be quiet and Jason stepped in alone. Looking around the area Jason spotted what was obviously another soldier, except he was dressed in civvies, the way the man held himself and dressed was obvious enough.

"One of whatever he is having keep." He said the the barman, pointing at the off duty man sitting against the bar as he stepped over. Once he was close enough he pulled out a pretty generic bar-stool and dropped himself on it.

"They gave us hell out there huh." He said nodding to the man, not aware that he wasn't around for the battle of Refuge.

[AlphaWolf]

Hospital Corpsman Second Class Mark Phillips

New Alexandria, Reach

Mark had ordered whiskey and was sipping on it as he thought about the leave he had just come off of.  His brother had died unexpectedly in a freak accident, and he had shipped home for the funeral.  His leave had been extended so he could be there for his sister-in-law when she gave birth to her firstborn.  Now, the poor kid was going to grow up fatherless, with an uncle constantly deployed.  Fortunately, the little tyke would have an aunt, grandparents and a mother who'd do their damnedest for the boy.  Mark had taken out the picture of his sister, sister-in-law and his nephew when the sergeant walked in.  Looking up, Mark acknowledged the soldier's presence.

"They gave us hell out there huh.

"I wouldn't know.  I'm coming off an extended leave.  Had some matters I had to take care of back home."

Mark thought the soldier looked familiar.  He had probably seen him around before he had taken leave, but there was no telling.  The barkeep arrived with Bowers' drink and set it in front of him.  Until now, the bar had been quiet, but off-duty troops had started to flow in, the noise levels beginning to pick up, but still mostly just a murmur.

[Wax™]

SSGT. Bowers M. Jason 

New Alexandria. Reach 

Drinking away sorrows 

"I wouldn't know. I'm coming off an extended leave. Had some matters I had to take care of back home."
The man sitting next to him. Jason turned his head and looked to the man with a blank expression, if the man were to look into Jason's eye's it would seem like he had been to hell back again and then thrown back in. Jason turned his head and laughed a little before cocking his head to the side and downing his whiskey whole once the barman brought it to him, he then slid it back across the to the barman's side of the table and gestured for a quick re-fill.

"You're a lucky man... One hundred and fifty returned from that fucked up mess..." He said, being sure to keep his voice low when he said it and only between the two. All the civilian world knew was that it was a costly victory, but a victory none the less and the word victory. Helped anyone sleep at night.

"Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers." He said, stretching his arm across, offering the man a friendly handshake.

"Man you would of been busy out there... Pelicans and HEV's just rained out of the fucking sky that night don't even get me started on the shit conditions or the flooding either." He said, still managing to keep his tone fairly low so that no other civilians could hear. After a few seconds of silence he downed his second glass of whiskey rather quickly and turned to face the man head on. "Did you know that nearly all the Platoons in Alpha and Bravo company, First Battalion are being completely re-organised with replacements... That's only the companies I know about too..." He then turned to face away again. "Fucking slaughter house back on that god-forsaken rock."

[Llau]

1st Lieutenant AJ Bishop
New Alexandria, Reach
Nothing like hard alcohol to help forget...even for a little bit.



Dressed in his civies, he decided to pay a visit to the bar he knew other UNSC personnel would go to kick back and relax, and sometimes drink so much that they were so drunk off of their ass, that the bar keep would call someone to get them. Thankfully, he decided to walk, get some fresh air on his way to to bar. So, it wouldn't matter if he became one of those marines who drank too much to not be able to drive home. The whole battle was awful, but thankfully the Sergeants under him survived the fight like he did. Then again, his platoon was in charged with guarding the bridge of Klix's ship. He could say it was an honor, and it beat being down on that planet, but part of him wanted to be down there with the rest of them. 

Sighing, he entered the bar and walked in. Looking around for other marines, he finally spotted two of them who were in here so far. He didn't really know them too well, but it was always easy to spot a fellow devil dog mixed in with a bunch of regular civilians. He approached the two men and sat down next to one of them. He ordered a drink when the bar keeper went over to him, and then he glanced over at Mark and Jason. 

"What's up, guys? Here to get drunk off your ass, too? Because I know I need to..."

[AlphaWolf]

Hospital Corpsman Second Class Mark Phillips

New Alexandria, Reach

"You're a lucky man... One hundred and fifty returned from that fucked up mess..."

Mark shook his head.  "Not lucky, but not as unfortunate as y'all were."  Mark went to say more, but stopped as the sergeant continued his discourse.


"Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers.  Man you would of been busy out there... Pelicans and HEV's just rained out of the fucking sky that night don't even get me started on the shit conditions or the flooding either."

Mark shook the sergeant's hand. "Hospital Corpsman Second Class Mark Phillips.  It sounds like it was a real shitpile out there.  What happened?"

"Did you know that nearly all the Platoons in Alpha and Bravo company, First Battalion are being completely re-organised with replacements... That's only the companies I know about too..."

Mark arched an eyebrow.  That many men had been lost?  Jesus Christ, that was an almost unheard-of loss rate.  Mark looked up as a third soldier joined them.  They were starting to get quite the little party going, two war-weary veterans and a fresh corpsman.

"What's up, guys? Here to get drunk off your ass, too? Because I know I need to..."

Mark shook his head.

"No, actually.  Just figured I'd take a few looks at civilian life before I reported in.  I'm at the end of my leave.  But I bet I could drink either one of you under the table.  Who wants to make it a contest?"

Noticing that he had laid the picture of his nephew down on the counter, Mark picked it up and tucked it into his jacket.  Later, he'd put it in his helmet band.  Keep it close, with the pictures of his sister and brother, and the girl back home he sometimes wrote to.

[SuperCommando]

UNSC Training Facility Echo, Eposz Territory
Epsilon Eridani System, Planet Reach

“Hmm, pretty impressive shooting,” a voice calmly remarked from behind Courtney.

The voice belonged to a tall, broad-shouldered man whose immediate distinguishing trait was the ornate eyepatch covering the left side of his face. Made of soft black cloth, the patch was emblazoned with the UNSC eagle insignia embroidered in golden stitching. Aside from that he had no identifying rank or unit markings, just plain grey fatigues with sleeves folded back halfway up his forearms and shooting gloves. Judging from the ammo belt with attached thigh holster containing an M6D magnum sidearm, he was apparently here for target practice too.

“Tight grouping, center mass. Not bad for that kind of weapon at that range. But what really stands out though is your rate of fire,” the man observed thoughtfully as he slowly approached, arms crossed over his chest. “UNSC scout snipers are trained to analyze their shot placement and readjust before firing again, typically resulting in a noticeable pause at minimum between shots. Your timing was much faster. I only know a handful of people who can shoot that fast and still retain that level of accuracy...”

With that, he paused and made direct contact between his good eye and hers, awaiting a response from the female Spartan.

[Wax™]

SSGT. Bowers M. Jason  

New Alexandria. Reach  

Drinking away sorrows  

"What's up, guys? Here to get drunk off your ass, too? Because I know I need to..."



Came the voice of a third man as he joined the two at the bar, another soldier. Jason was able to tell just because the man carried himself like a soldier, also it helped the fact that Jason knew the man, not personally but he had fought along side the man a few times. Jason turned to face the bartender and gestured for him to re-fill his whiskey and Mark's whiskey if he had downed it, he also gestured for a whiskey to be delivered before Bishop.

"How're you going Lieutenant... They gave us hell out there huh." He said, trying to sound social and as if it wasn't a big deal. But Bishop, having been through the same hell would know for a fact that there was a fire burning deep within Jason a fire that Bishop most probably shared. "Looking forward to having your Platoon filled with greens? I know I am -not- fucking been slid up to Platoon Sergeant in Bravo... Going to have to be my job to put the fuckers in line and make sure they don't get killed." Jason said, Jason hated replacements, mainly because he never liked seeing them get killed.

[Seri]

Private Arya Summers
UNSCS Iowa
Exploring around the ship

Arya wandered about the various decks of the ship, still in partial awe that she was finally there. Having arrived the day before, she was completely and utterly lost. There were so many corridors, it was hard to keep track of where she came from after a while. Though that was a problem that could be tackled in the future. Right now, all that was on Arya's mind was looking around. She could almost feel the gloom moods of the crew and other Marines about her, the recent mission having been a horrible one, or so she heard.The few people she asked about it didn't seem very interested in telling her much.

A female voice rang out somewhere behind her. "Summers!"

Arya turned about to put a face to the voice, spotting one of the other new people in her squad, Webb, waving for her to come over. Webb wasn't a stranger to military ships, and so she actually knew what she was doing. "Oh, hey Webb." Arya said as she maneuvered past a cart that was being pushed by a few of the ships crew members.

"Hey. Listen, Coroson told me to remind you we are all eating chow around seventeen hundred, and that it would be very appreciated if you were there."

Arya suspected that she was being told, not asked, to go eat chow with them. She didn't mind, since it still gave her a few hours to look about. She nodded, not giving a verbal response, before she turned about and continued her exploration. Stepping into an elevator, she pushed a button for the fourty fifth deck, at random. After the doors closed and the elevator started moving, she leaned against the wall to relax a little, letting her eyes close. Was jet lag even a thing during space travel? It sure felt like it.

Feeling the elevator stop, she didn't bother getting off of the wall, though she did open her eyes to see who was actually getting on. A very sweaty and impatient looking Lieutenant stood waiting for the elevator, causing Arya to push herself off the wall rather awkwardly.

"Oh, good day Sir. Or night. Or... whatever you say in space, Sir."

Arya mentally hit herself for being so awkward and stupid sounding.

[Llau]

1st Lieutenant AJ Bishop
New Alexandria, Reach



"No, actually. Just figured I'd take a few looks at civilian life before I reported in. I'm at the end of my leave. But I bet I could drink either one of you under the table. Who wants to make it a contest?"

"Ah, not this time," Bishop replied, and quickly drank down a shot of vodka. He brought the now empty shot back down to the bar's counter-top, and sighed. "Not really in the mood for a contest. Later maybe?"

He glanced over to where Jason was sitting when the man said to him, "How're you going Lieutenant... They gave us hell out there huh."

"I could be better," Bishop nodded at that, and then smiled grimly. "If there's something worse than hell, that mission was it...much worse than when I had to nearly defend that communication tower by myself on Gemini Sigma from some of those Covie bastards, while waiting for reinforcements to arrive." He shook his head somewhat when he remembered his first deployment to the lush planet. 

"Looking forward to having your Platoon filled with greens? I know I am -not- fucking been slid up to Platoon Sergeant in Bravo... Going to have to be my job to put the fuckers in line and make sure they don't get killed."

He sighed, ordering another shot of vodka before finally replying, "Platoon Sergeant, huh? Congratulations, Bowers." He raised the shot glass toward him before downing it in one go. "As for having my Platoon filled with greens...sure...most of them were down on the ground, getting their asses kicked or killed. A few made it, but..." He smiled again, though it was equivalent to a grimace. "You know. More people to make sure they do their job right so they don't get killed, and more lives thrown to the wolves in this stupid, fucked up war."

[CTWDaBearJew]

//**SITREP - 25281-25369-BM: 2/153@7/7**//
Asset(s): 2LT McRaven, Benjamin Ian - Platoon Leader, 2nd PLT/153rd ODST Co.
Location(s): Drop Zone: Normandy >Marine Corps Base New Alexandria> Local Bar - New Alexandria, Reach
Current Status: Day 1 of 5 Day Pass

The world changed from a dull orange color to a blood red along with an audible alarm, the crew chief stood and began issuing hand signals to the assembled jumpers. The first the signal to activate their rebreathers and attach the O2 masks.

Doing so each member of the stick raised hand with a thumbs up, and shouted their respective number in the stick.

"12!" Ben shouted so his voice could be heard behind the mask, the crew chief responded with his own thumbs up and began speaking into the mic on his helmet.

Finished the crew chief raised both arms until they were parallel with the deck one hand held out one finger the other two. The signal for jumper 12, in this case Ben. Flipping both hands palm up he raised them up, signaling Ben to stand, then with his left he pointed at the ramp and the right he pointed to his eyes.

The wind buffeted his loose fitting fatigues as it rushed in through the growing gap at the rear of the Pelican, it's ramp descending into the darkness. Taking a tentative step forward Ben reached up and gripped the cargo net strung across the roof of the cargo compartment, the ramp ground to a halt and the only sound was the wind rushing in and his breathing into the re-breather attached to his chest. With the hand firmly gripping the cargo net, he grabbed the air frame and pulled his body forward; not too far as to throw himself into the darkness, but enough to get a view of the sky below them.

It was clear, it always was on training jumps.

Pushing himself out of the jet stream, Ben released the frame and stole a glance at the moon that was now peaking from behind one of a series of cumulonimbus clouds that hung in the sky. It was a sight to behold, the moon and the stars, massive clouds some of which sparked bright white with the occasional flash of lightning within. Then as if some power had drawn an invisible line in the sky, everything below was as dark as ink. Not a single light shown from below.

Turning Ben still gripped the cargo net as he eyed the 11 other ODST and 1 crew chief in the bay. He raised his right hand to his face pointing at his eyes and then shifted it into a thumbs up; Ben then repeated the hand signals to stand the jumpers up. The last command he gave was to check each others gear, by crossing his arms over his chest in an X. Each jumper quickly inspected the jump gear of the trooper in front of them, slapping them on the should and shouting that jumpers number and 'Okay!'.

Arriving at Ben, "12 OKAY!" He shouted, a few moments later the red and green jump lights illuminated; both flashed for a few second before the red remained solid. Even over the deafening roar of the wind whipping through the bay, Ben could faintly make out the crew chief counting down.

The red light switched to green with a loud tone and Ben began to run forward, with a step to go to the edge of the ramp he hurtled himself into the dark night. And fell... and fell... and fell... 36,000 feet to go.

* * * * *

Looking up into the night sky, Ben studied the moon as he pulled his chute in wrapping it up around his arm so that it wouldn't get caught by the wind and blow away, or worse pull him along.

The sound of an engine down shifting behind him caught his attention and he turned around still collecting his chute, a troop transport Warthog came to a smooth stop 10 meters from him. A head popped up over the roll bar, "Hey El-Tee how was that?" The voice said.

"Could have been worse." He replied with a chuckle as he finished collecting the chute, "You get everyone else their Staff?"

"Yessir we did, you managed to land furthest from the LZ. Get caught in that down draft?" The Staff Sergeant asked as he hopped from the Warthog to help.

"Yeah, kicked me real hard, ended up having to correct at random; ended up here."

"Yeah sounds about right, Booters back there managed to end up in the one tree on this whole plain." Staff replied with a laugh, "We had more fun cutting him down, Doc's gonna have to check out his ego; we did some serious damage."

"Great job Staff, break'em before we ever need em." Ben replied with a hearty laugh as he grabbed one of the stuff it sacks and pushed the chute into it. Tossing the bag on to the towed trailer Ben pulled himself into the troop compartment.

"Oh, by the way; you're all welcome in advance. Five-day passes have been approved, the platoon will be released as soon as we are boots back on base!" He announced to the assembled jumpers, it had been a surprise for the unit as they'd be scheduled for training upon return from Refuge, instead they got leave. The rest of the platoon had already been informed by their Platoon Sergeant back in the barracks.

The group cheered as the driver shifted the 'Hog into drive and floored it towards base. Ben leaned back, it'd be nice to have a break; even if it was a small one, though he was expecting the small break to be interrupted by some of the antics of the unit that would require him to bail them out.

* * * * *

Ben had remained in the barracks till the last of his men had departed on their passes, the influx of new blood due to their losses meant it was gonna be a crazy five days for those newbies, green Privates and seasoned Sergeants alike. There were a few who remained, the brighter of the platoon who'd rather stay in then go out; but they had five days to change their minds.

Closing and locking his door, Ben shrugged his way into his jacket and headed for the main gate; he'd see about catching a ride with another officer or just take a cab into New Alexandria.

Ben took his time walking towards the main gate, enjoying the weather and the walk without having to worry about some xenophobic alien trying to kill him. He swung by the parking lot, it was devoid of vehicles; with a happy shrug he made his way towards the cab stand that waited just beyond the gates imposing defensive barriers and barricades.

Slipping into the first cab, Ben offered up the name of a local dive frequented by members of the UNSCDF. The driver said he knew of it, of course he did; he'd be an idiot if he didn't, at least on that side of New Alexandria. As the cab pulled away he relaxed in the back seat as the driver attempted to make small talk, Ben was in no mood and asked the driver politely to stop talk and just drive; Ben was just after a few drinks and a meal. The driver nodded, and drove on in silence.

The cab pulled up to the curb opposite the bar, Ben exited, not before handing the fair and a tip for shutting up to the driver. Dodging a few vehicles as he jogged across the street, giving the bouncer a wink as he passed through the entrance. Ben crossed the open area of the bar, pulling his jacket off he draped it over the back of the bar stool he sat on. The bar tender came by, "What can I get ya Son?"

"What ever amber beer you have on tap, and a shot of Jamison."

"Be right up." The keep said patting the bar a few times before turning to get the drinks.

Leaning back Ben waited, he looked around the bar; it wasn't too packed but he could tell, the men and women there were all brothers and sisters in arms. He could hear a conversation further down the bar, a Marine who'd just gotten the bump to Platoon Sergeant and from the sounds of an officer agreeing that having their units filled with green troops was gonna be rough.

"You know. More people to make sure they do their jobs right so they don't get killed, and more lives thrown to the wolves in this stupid, fucked up war."

"Here, here to that!" Ben intoned raising the shot of Jamison that'd just been placed on the bar, "Fresh meat for the grinder, nothing new there." He said downing the shot, with a grimace he wiped his arm across his mouth putting the glass down, "I don't know about you sheepdogs, but I like to hunt those wolves."

Tag - Bar Goers

[AlphaWolf]

Hospital Corpsman Second Class Mark Phillips

New Alexandria, Reach

"Ah, not this time," Bishop replied, and quickly drank down a shot of vodka. He brought the now empty shot back down to the bar's counter-top, and sighed. "Not really in the mood for a contest. Later maybe?"

Mark smiled, nodding.

"I'll hold ya to that one, lieutenant.  I bet I could drink you under the table."

"Looking forward to having your Platoon filled with greens? I know I am -not- fucking been slid up to Platoon Sergeant in Bravo... Going to have to be my job to put the fuckers in line and make sure they don't get killed."

Mark nodded, even though he knew Bowers was talking to the lieutenant.

"Hopefully, I'll be able to help my lieutenant with that one.  The not-dying part, anyways."

"Here, here to that!" Ben intoned raising the shot of Jamison that'd just been placed on the bar, "Fresh meat for the grinder, nothing new there." He said downing the shot, with a grimace he wiped his arm across his mouth putting the glass down, "I don't know about you sheepdogs, but I like to hunt those wolves."

Mark frowned.  He disliked hearing people being referred to as "meat for the grinder".  It was easily one of his least favorite expressions of all time.  As a corpsman, it was his duty to prevent the men--young and old alike--from becoming just "meat for the grinder".  Every pair of black boots sticking out from under a poncho hurt him.  It meant he had failed in his duty.  Failed to keep his men alive.  And Mark didn't like failing.

"I don't know about enjoying hunting the wolves.  After all, a wolf is just as intelligent as the dog you call man's best friend."

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Maximilian "Drake" Fields
New Alexandria
Remembering the Fallen

The Raging Hornet, a local bar in downtown Alexandria, was the go to spot for off duty marines. Emphasis on the word "was". As more and more soldiers were deployed to the front lines away from reach, the bar had started to become a dead place. A small crowd of older medically discharged combat veterans could be seen coming to the bar night after night, the only place where they could find a cold beer and an old-school pool table.

Drake had stepped into the bar about thirty minutes earlier, the bar empty as the old vets had not gotten off work yet. A lone bar tender stood there pouring Drake another beer whenever he would ask, he had already gone through his second one. As he drank each beer with one hand, his other contained three sets of dog tags. Each one belonging to his fire team leaders. Almost his entire squad had been wiped out, and he felt responsible for their deaths. He sat there looking into his glass, calling the bartender over for another beer. It's gonna be a long night.

[RiddL]

Staff Sergeant Kai (Wolf) Blacklock

Overhearing a conversation. Time to interrupt.

Kai sat at the bar after talking with Clair, drinking his sorrows and grief away. He heard a small exchange between three fellow soldiers and walked up to them, slightly recognising them through the haze caused by the liquor.


"I don't know about enjoying hunting the wolves. After all, a wolf is just as intelligent as the dog you call man's best friend." Kai heard.

"Don't forget that wolves hunt in packs and they are much smarter than dogs." Kai said announcing himself to the three, he said barely effected by the alcohol that he had drunk previously. He looked at the Lieutenant, Phillips and Bishop in turn, nodding his hellos to each of them. "Only way to deal with wolves is to take out the pack leader and then pick off the others one by one. The Covenant or too much like wolves except for one fatal flaw... They fucked with the wrong prey." He said taking a sip of his whiskey, his custom helljumper tattoo showing on his forearm. "Where are my manners? Staff Sergeant Kai Blacklock, codename Wolf." He said introducing himself to them, holding out a hand to give a friendly handshake.

[Wax™]

Second Lieutenant Justin 'Jay' Jenkins  

UNSCS Iowa   

Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser  

"Oh, good day Sir. Or night. Or... whatever you say in space, Sir."
A voice spoke as Jay got on the elevator.


Justin straightened himself out instantly before stepping onto the elevator and fell quiet, looking down at the woman before him for a second before stepping onto the elevator, he squinted his eye's for a moment as if trying to collect his thoughts and trying to recognize the woman. But he couldn't, could she be a replacement? Surely not, it was too early.

"Lieutenant or Sir is fine Private..." He said, as he was looking over the woman he noticed her single chevron stitched onto each shoulder and the extremely clean and new uniform gave her way as a replacement.

"Deck 53." Justin said inside the elevator rather than pressing one of the many buttons, there was a couple second delay before the elevator began to move.

"Is there anything I can help you with Private?" He paused as if waiting for the woman's last name, but would continue soon after, whether she replied or not. "Are you here alone? The replacements should not be arriving on the ship for at least a week at the most? Did you get orders to board the ship?"

[Seri]

Private Arya Summers 

UNSCS Iowa 

Exploring around the ship

Arya couldn't lie, she was rather intimidated by the Lieutenant seemingly scrutinizing her in an awkward silence. She felt relieved when it was finally broken. "Lieutenant or Sir is fine Private..." The LT said, before he requested the deck he was heading to. Arya was surprised, she didn't really think about the elevators using voice commands, she was too focused on other things... Like exploring the ship. A

"Is there anything I can help you with Private?" 

Arya waited for a time for her to speak up. "Summers, Sir." She went to say something else, though the Lieutenant had continued. "Are you here alone? The replacements should not be arriving on the ship for at least a week at the most? Did you get orders to board the ship?" Now that it was mentioned, Arya realized she hadn't seen many that seemed new like she was. Arya nodded her head in response, making sure to stand at attention as she spoke. Basic training was still fresh in her mind.

"Er, I'm one of a few that have arrived, Sir. Though I wasn't aware I arrived that early."


The elevator started slowing down as it neared the floor Arya was headed to. Though she figured she could save some time and ask the Lieutenant. "Sir, do you happen to know what's on deck fourty five?" A rather stupid question, but asking questions was never a bad thing. What was it her drill instructor always said? No question is a stupid question. 

Of course, someone would then ask a stupid question and get made fun of for it.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon Killinger
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

John wondered down the nearly empty halls on this specific deck, which was about twenty five if he remembered correctly. This deck lead directly towards the bridge, but since the Admiral of this tub was ground side the XO - a Commander in rank - was watching the repairs. Technically John was one grade higher than the executive officer of the Iowa, but the mans billet made him his superior. Beside the point, John and Kyle continued to walk down the corridors together. They left Axle on his own accord to do what ever he wanted to do. Most Marines on the ship didn't mind it. Axle was a well trained dog.

"A Marines life is linear," John said to his son. "Wake up, do what you're assigned to do, go to sleep. Exercise, maybe." The veteran Marine officer said. "It's not always combat, combat, combat like most people think when they enlist. If you're assigned to a ship that's assigned to patrolling around Covenant hot-spots then you're obviously going to see more combat than Marines stationed around... say Earth for example."

"Right, but Marines are continuously moved around by the brass. I've heard some rumors about two companies that saw previous action being merged into the Seventh Marines after our losses on Hope. I know what you said earlier, but I also know the seventh didn't take as bad casualties as some say it took." Kyle said.

John nodded as they turned left. "No, the seventh halted deployment on Hope about mid deployment when Klix ordered it. The Seventh Marines still lost a significant chunk of men, but most of the casualties were actually from ships being destroyed by the Covenant. I think only a thousand Marines were deployed to the surface before Klix ordered it to stop, and another two thousand were killed when their ships were destroyed."

"Bad way to go," Kyle said. "I would hate that type of death."

"So would I. The seventh is still a thousand marines strong, some veterans others not. We're taking two companies away from the Twelfth Marines and a battalion away from the Fifth Marines and dissolving the survivors from the Eighty Second Marines after their defeat on Octavia and filling the holes with replacements. We'll be a full strength regiment within the end of the month, at about four thousand eight hundred troops. Unfortunately, about sixty percent of those Marines will be fresh faced. Especially the Battalion we're getting from the Fifth." John said.

"How many from the eighty second?" Kyle asked.

"I'd estimate about a battalion and a half," John replied. "Truth be told I don't really know. I've only got preliminary reports from personnel command, I should know more by the end of the week but even then I probably won't be able to tell you much until it is written in stone."

"You have access to personnel command?" Kyle asked. John thought he looked... intrigued.

"Yeah," John replied. "How do you think the Marines are organized so effectively when units upon units from divisions are spread across the Milky Way? As a Colonel I have the authority to access personnel command and make edits and suggested edits to Marines CSV's. In old times I'd just lead a regiment, but now my responsibilities is literally managing the regiment with my headquarters group - which also needs to be replaced. They were all KIA on Hope."

"...Do you know who saved my life on that planet?" Kyle asked.

John remained silent. He did. "Yes," John finally admitted as they took a right. John had effectively walked his son towards the tram. He was heading to the mess hall. John admitted he liked using the tram more than the elevators. While the elevators were handy for going up and down, the tram was best for getting across the one kilometer ship in minutes. After the mess hall he was running a simulation for some replacements that had arrived earlier today.

He was still debating. Was the simulation going to be about the Iowa being boarded, or did he mix it up and throw in some type of zombie outbreak to give the recruits a good first day on the Iowa. They needed a morale boost after what happened, so John thought the zombie scenario was good. At the same time, those replacements needed to know what was going to happen when they got on the field. UNSC simulators were fairly accurate, and sometimes neural as well.

"Where you headed, dad?"

"Mess. I'm hungry."

"I'll come with you, I guess..."

[Wax™]

Second Lieutenant Justin 'Jay' Jenkins   

UNSCS Iowa    

Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser 

"Er, I'm one of a few that have arrived, Sir. Though I wasn't aware I arrived that early."
The woman said as Jay finished speaking, followed soon after with. "Sir, do you happen to know what's on deck forty five?"


Jay didn't go down to deck forty five much, in fact he never went down there because it was never necessary his platoon was stationed on deck fifty three like wise with the west of his Company, or what was left of it anyway. However this didn't mean that Jay didn't know what was on deck forty five. He was fairly sure it was the barracks to a few hundred soldiers. Perhaps there was a mess and training room down there too, along with an armory.

"I believe it is just the living quarters to a couple other companies... I wouldn't know though, I am assigned to Bravo Company and we share deck fifty three with Alpha... If you want definite's Private you're going to need to seek out the one of the battalion or regimental commanders... Or if you're lucky you may even find the lieutenant that you're assigned under... In fact... Tell me what your orders are... You should know who you are assigned under otherwise you wouldn't be here."

By now the elevator stopped at deck fifty three, Jay stepped out halfway and stopped between the doors to stop them from closing, scrutinizing the young Private with his gaze, he was half expecting her to follow him but there was a possibility she didn't belong on this deck if she asked about forty five. The other half of Jay just waited for a response.