Unit Mission: Seventh Marines

[MrKill]

"We leave the planet to go to its moon. For f- you know what, I don't even care anymore. Fuck it." - 1LT. Killinger

"After what happened on Hope, after the loses we sustained they're going to pack our lunches for us and send us back to school knowing full well that bully will be waiting for us to take our lunch... And for fucking what!" PFC. Mendoza

Sanctuary, the habitable moon home to the artifact that powered the EMP Artifact on Hope's surface, has been reinforced by the United Nations Space Command. Among the reinforcements are the Seventh Marines on a mission to retrieve the artifact for the Office of Naval Intelligence (Queue Infinity's technology) eggheads for a classified project.

Unfortunately, the Covenant had other plans for the seemingly peaceful extraction of the device. After learning that the device powered the EMP field from such a great distance in nearly real time, from studying the radiology reports from the activation, the Covenant reacted. Tasked with this new information, the Covenant hierarchy deemed it necessary to recover the device.

The UNSC, being slower in slip-space, arrived to see the Covenant all ready in system. The small scout fleet of one CCS Class Battle Cruiser, three Frigates and a Destroyer deployed ground forces. When the 14th Tactical arrived with over forty ships, they engaged immediately.

The ensuing space battle, though brief, was eventful. The UNSC Navy lost thirteen ships from the Covenants opening salvo of energy projectors, plasma torpedoes, boarding parties and seraph gun runs. The UNSC, however, decimated the Covenant fleet thanks to their opening MAC salvo. The space battle, from the time the first shot was fired to the last boarder killed, lasted a mere hour and a half.

The UNSC have deployed the Marines and accompanying units towards two operational forward operating bases in the region of the artifact. Unfortunately, the Covenant have secured the artifact with a division strength worth of troops. At least twenty thousand strong. Orbital bombardment and air strikes were out of the question, so ground leaders came up with a plan.

An all out attack.

The plan was for the Eight Marines and Ninth Marines to launch a frontal assault with everything they had. Scorpions, Grizzlies, Pelicans, Albatrosses, Vultures... if they had it, it was in the battle plan. With ten thousand Marines, they were out numbered 2:1. Fortunately, the ships in orbit were capable of deploying ODSTs. The plan was altered. The ODSTs on board the ships would land behind the defensive perimeter and start attacking the Covenant in faith it would divide the Covenant invasion force so the Marines weren't fighting twenty thousand Covenant troops head on.

However, as they are about to launch the operation, the actual Covenant fleet the previous scout fleet - now destroyed - was attached to arrived. Numbering twenty strong, the UNSC's twenty eight vessels are immediately engaged... And most of them are nearly instantly destroyed. Fortunately, they inflicted casualties. Despite only eleven UNSC ships limping away towards safer space behind Hope, they dealt out enough damage to destroy six of the incoming vessels. That left the Covenant fleet with only fourteen ships. Unfortunately, one of those ships was a CSO Class Super Carrier.

When the 22nd Fleet arrived with twenty five ships the UNSC fleet was suddenly reinforced and back up to thirty six warships. The Covenant naval warships were detected and located in orbit over Sanctuary and Hope, making them in a perfect position to avoid incoming MAC rounds. Thus, the UNSC Navy is unable to engage. Fortunately, using flanking maneuvers, the UNSC Navy is successfully able to deploy the Seventh Marines and her assigned units.

A new plan is conceived. A weakened territory, identified by long range orbital scans by local UNSC warships, shows a rough regiment strength Covenant defensive perimeter around the west flank of the artifacts defending zone. With CENTCOMM recognizing the structural weakness in the Covenants defensive line they order the Seventh Marines to engage. After departing the operational forward operating base the Seventh landed at, they arrive at their area of operations a week later.

This is the start of the mission.

First Battalion is tasked with securing a town along the western line in order to grant the Marines a flanking route. However, areal recon suggest it is currently occupied and will need to be fought over. If victorious, the Marines will be able to launch flanking operations deep behind Covenant lines while supplying First Battalion a new supply route. If a defeat is suffered, the Covenant will gain some ground on the Marines and First Battalion will likely be overwhelmed and overran.

Map of the town:



UNSC Military Strength:
5, 000 x Marines (7th Marines) / 851 KIA, 3 MIA
200 x ODSTS (153rd ODST) / 130 KIA, 1 MIA
200 x Combat Engineer (53rd Combat Engineers) / 19 KIA, 1 MIA
970 x Various Light Armored Vehicles (Warthogs, APCs, etc, etc) 210 destroyed, 84 damaged
50 x Scorpion MBTs / 20 destroyed, 9 damaged
15 x Grizzly MBTs / 10 destroyed, 4 damaged
18 x SparrowHawk / 10 destroyed, 6 damaged
36 x Hornet VTOL / 22 destroyed, 4 damaged
4 x Vultures / 3 destroyed, 1 damaged
40 x Pelican Dropships / 21 destroyed, 15 damaged
20 x Albatross Dropships / 6 destroyed, 10 damaged

Covenant Military Strength:
5, 750 x Covenant troops (Various Elites, Grunts, Jackals, etc, etc) / 917 KIA, 2 MIA
500 x Ghosts / 232 destroyed, 60 damaged
150 x 'Specters' / 31 destroyed, 42 damaged
60 x Wraiths / 40 destroyed, 8 damaged
70 x Revenants / 36 destroyed, 3 damaged
1 x Scarab / 0 destroyed/damaged
12 x Anti-Air Wraiths 2 destroyed, 2 damaged
30 x Brute Prowlers / 9 destroyed, 6 damaged
190 x 'Choppers' / 55 destroyed, 14 damaged
70 x 'Banshees' / 15 destroyed, 16 damaged
55 x 'Shadows' / 10 destroyed, 13 damaged
30 x 'Locusts' / 15 destroyed, 9 damaged

NOTE: Casualty reports are 'rough' estimates.

NOTE: This is a UNSC PC Mission only. The Covenant Unit Mission will be released shortly by Huka. People who have a UNSC character can participate in this!

NOTE 2: While there is a ton of NPCs, you will never find all five thousand UNSC or Covenant at any specific area - ever - and the most you'll likely see in a firefight is less than a thousand. This is a massive map with Covenant and UNSC spread across a massive line.

NOTE 3: Keep it realistic! There will be casualties on BOTH SIDE. Remember that the Covenant are sentient beings. This Unit Mission will be moderated by the staff to ensure no godmodding or unrealistic events occur. As such, keep in mind you're not going to take out a platoon of Covenant warriors without nearly loosing a platoon yourself unless you have one hell of an ambush laid out!

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Seventh Marines
Regiment HQ

"Elements of First Battalion are Oscar Mike to their objective, sir." The S-6 officer, Captain Filders, said. He was the regiment HCC's communications officer. John nodded slightly, satisfied that First Battalion had begun to deploy a company of men to the town. It was vital operation that could not end in failure. The delicate tactical situation demanded a victory. If they suffered a defeat, First Battalion would have to relocate further behind UNSC lines or risk being overwhelmed. If they were victorious, however, they'd allow the UNSC a flanking route deep into enemy lines.

"Thank you, Captain. What is the progress of the other battalions?" John replied.

The operations officer was the next one to respond, "Second Battalion hasn't reported in yet, but their on an aggressive advance so our hails may have gone unheard. Third, forth and fifth battalions are spreading across the line to combat the Covenant in various positions."

"Try to get second battalion up," John said. "I want to know why one of my battalions is dark."

"Yessir!" The Communications officer said.

"Major Bilistie, what was Second Battalions objective?"

The S-5 Officer shouted from his seat, "Secure our Regiment headquarters location!"

John sighed, yelled for the pilot to slow the Albatrosses decent down, and swore to himself. "S-6, tell Major Blakley to prioritize First Battalion in getting that town secure. We'll use it as a temporary HQ until Second Battalion can secure the City of Sanctuary."

"Yes sir." The Communications officer said. "Guardian S6 to Assassin Actual, priority orders from Guardian Actual. Break. Expedite mission progress and secure the town of 'Gillian' as the new location of Regiment HCC. Break. Guardian Actual is inbound to your location, ETA twelve minutes. Guardian S6 out." The Captain said.

"Thank you, Captain." John said, followed by letting the pilot know he could go to the IFF tag of the Major. He sat back down and prepared himself.

[Jakob]

Major Lucas Blakley
Sitting in a nice air conditioned Elephant, approximately two klicks from any real action

Blakley's aid ran up to him and handed him a nice steaming mug of coffee which he grabbed without even glancing at the other man. The TACMAP in front of him showed markers for every unit moving in on the Covenant held town, Sorelson's Alpha Company was taking the middle so far, with Bravo and Charlie flanking them. The men were all mounted up in Warthogs with light armored support following close behind in the form of several APCs.

Covenant strength in the town was unknown, but looking at the layout he could imagine where positions would be. It was only sensible for a machine-gun nest to be placed in that building and that one, providing full cover on the road, and anti tank weapons were more than likely lying in ambush. Their approach was no secret, and the Covenant were going to prepare.

He had requested an all out bombing of the town as soon as he set down and the vultures had dully complied, but it hadn't done much to improve the situation from what he had seen. He assumed that a decent number of Covenant had died in the bombardment, but the toppled ruins of buildings and huge openings into old subway lines had done little more than create even more possible points of ambush for the attacking Marines.

Blakley took an appreciative swig of the coffee, black, just like he liked it, and keyed his com to Sorelson's channel.

"Captain Sorelson, this is Major Blakley and I can't wait to be working with you. The town has been bombarded, courtesy of the Vultures, and they're hovering around for fire support. Real air support will be unavailable to us, courtesy of our useless navy, and you and the other companies will be taking this town mostly by yourselves.

"Chances are, they've got machine guns prepared in uh... the tilting bank you should be seeing on the horizon now, five stories or so, and the bombed out office building down the street from it. They've had time to prepare, and they're going to let you pass before they open up.

"I'm sending a company to distract them and I want you to sneak through the park half a klick to the east of the approach. The Covenant are expecting a big push, so they'll be moving their men wherever they hit first. Hopefully you'll insert yourself into a less defended area,

"Second company will assist in the distraction, third is on standby for you to make an opening and the points I just mentioned have been marked. I want reports on the clock Sorelson, this entire damned advance is currently sitting on your shoulders. Your record seems good, but I won't stand failure on my watch, move quickly and I'll make sure you get out with some more medal on your chest. God speed. Out."

Blakley took another sip of the brew. Sorelson had an odd record and seemed to do more nearly dying in Pelican explosions than he did leading his men, but Blakley couldn't care much as long as he did his job. Checking the unit readouts again, he contacted second and third companies CO's.

"Third company, hold away from the advance and set down near Sorelson's point of advance. Move in behind him once he secures an entrance, second company, hit the Covenant lines straight through the center, distract them as much as possible. If you break through, that's great, but the point is to make as much damn noise as you can. You'll know you're doing good when you got several dozen fucking splitjaws swarming you. Hit them hard and I'll tell you when you can leave, out."


Taking a nice long sigh, he found fourth and fifth companies station and announced into his microphone,

"Fourth company, move three klicks to the west of companies Alpha through Charlie. Cut through and try to make a line for the city center, we want the Covenant to panic here. Fifth company will be assisting you in this, both of you, take no prisoners and get ready to go through a lot of Covenant. I want every open plaza and park from your position to the center held down, I want Pelicans able to drop troops mid fight, and those positions are going to have to be secure. If you see any AA, mark them immediately. Out."

'Only one more call to make...' he thought to himself.

"Armored units, move in behind second company and start blowing the shit out of anything the color purple, tear down any building that might be hiding them, annihilate anything that might be a threat. Collateral damage is no an issue, have fun, over," he said cooly to the tank commander of the two Scorpions following the Marines advance.

Pushing his microphone up, he took an appreciative sip of the coffee one last time before glancing at the contents, glancing towards his aid,

"are these beans from fucking Reach? They're disgusting, I told you to get me the kind from Earth." sighing at the incompetence that surrounded him, he set down the mug and waited for the units to move.

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle Killinger
1/7, A Co, 1st Platoon
Inbound

"Board the pelican, ladies." Staff Sergeant McKeal said - the new platoon Sergeant for Kyle. Though he was a First Lieutenant and had survived a deployment with the Covenant didn't mean he was entirely experienced in combating them unlike his father. Yeah, his father was a survivor of many deployments, and yet it appeared the men under his weren't so lucky. Maybe it was just war, it didn't matter.

"First Battalion is already on the move," McKeal said, looking at Kyle. "Blakley is moving his unit out, sir."

Kyle refused to get into the pelican, or series of pelicans rather, until he knew his platoon of forty eight marines not including his Platoon Sergeant and himself were on a pelican and ready to go. He nodded towards the Staff Sergeant, who gave him the thumbs up and entered his pelican. Kyle circled around once more and monitored the flight of two pelicans, one equipped with a troop deployment pod, and found he was the only Marine still on the ground. He returned to his pelican and nodded at the Crew Chief, a Lance Corporal.

"We're ready to go." He said, staring out into the tarmac. "We're ready to go."

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Transporting A Co, 1st Platoon Ground Side

The briefing stated that Slim's squadron will be supporting 1st Battalion of the 7th Marines on their mission on Sanctuary. They explained that they will mostly be ferrying supplies and troops to the ground with the occasional call for air support. Slim was assigned to fly on Pelican Whiskey-151 piloted by Captain Montcrieff and 1st Lieutenant Morehead. Slim wasn't quite sure if he was nervous or excited. Not because he was simply flying but because this is the first time he'll see combat. He will finally take the fight to the alien bastards he kept hearing so much about. Finally get to rain death from the back of a Pelican and bring justice with his machine gun.


The birds were loaded with the gear and the preflight was good. The Crew Chief can be identified by was his vac suit and his armored flight vest. Slim can also be pointed out from the rest for on his back was his Battle Rifle and his right hip his M6D pistol along with the sticker that says Europa on his helmet. His suit was sealed though still cycling the air and when the dropship was turned up he waved for 1st Platoon to come in. He looked to the Crew Chief in the other Pelican, his childhood friend Jenny, and she gave him a signal saying that she was loaded up and good to go. All he was waiting on was the LT as he watched his troops fill in the spacecraft. He gave Slim a nod.

"We're ready to go." He said, staring out into the tarmac. "We're ready to go."



Slim nodded and then noticed that his IFF tag said Killinger. Was he related to the Colonel? Maybe. The Crew Chief looked back into the cabin and did a quick headcount. Once he had accountability and that everyone was strapped in he told Captain Montcrieff over ICS, "We're loaded up and accounted for. Ready to go when you are sir."


He raised the ramp and there was a hiss the Pelican sealed.

[Jakob]

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Lifting off

Grimm nodded and sent his confirmation back to Slim before activating the rear turbines. When there was sufficient speed, he gunned the engines and slowly fed fuel into the rear in front thrusters, grunting as the board read green and the Pelican began shaking from the effort. He heard Gottahave's voice in his ear, the man speaking loudly enough into his microphone to hear himself over the din of the engine, a habit that annoyed Grimm to no end,

"HEY MONTCRIEFF!" he screamed. Grimm winced at the screeching in his ears and made a motion with his hand to signal him to quiet down, "I mean erm, Montcrieff, maybe you should talk to the boys over the intercom. Might get spirits up," his co-pilot suggested. Grimm noted that he specifically left out the fact that he himself could be the one making the speech but decided not to bring it up. Instead, he pointed the thrusters down and began lifting off. After he was sure they were safely in the air and he angled the thrusters to follow the squadron, he keyed his comm,

"Attention passengers, this is your uh, pilot speaking. The weather is erm, average today and we're flying over a lovely view of some rather scorched ruins. Uh, Covenant AA is unknown but it's very likely we will be fired upon and killed and uh..." he drifted off and glanced back, Gottahave simply shrugging and frowning, obviously having as little experience in this as he had. The other pilot glanced around and said,

"Maybe tell a joke? That might ease them..." Grimm's deadpan expression told him it had been a decade since he had even set out to hear a joke but he turned back to the microphone with the awkwardness of a man who wasn't used to talking into it,

"Uh, we'll be facing some major fire. I call the fire Maria after my wife because it causes everything to uh, break up. Right, yeah. Uh... just don't fuck up with my crew compartment and we'll be done with each other soon enough." He turned off his microphone and leaned back in his seat, asking Gottahave how he did.

"Wonderously," was all he got.

[Samuel Murray]

Private Samuel Murray
7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Delta Company, 4th Platoon, Bravo Squad, Fireteam Alpha
Receiving Orders

    Samuel fastened himself tightly into his seat within the troop transport variant warthog. Glancing his blue eyes towards his fireteam positioned around him. "Don't worry son, no falling from the sky like last time.," barked Booker as he slid his NCO cap snug between his ears. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

    Veronica sat beside him and chuckled, "You seem nervous...as always."

    "Pre mission butterflies; you know how it feels," he paused as he slid his boonie on. Beside him the rest of his squad began to get into the carrier. "They're going to need four hogs for our platoon alone," Samuel paused again for a short second, "Sixteen in total...I don't see why we just took a few APCs," but nobody in his squad responded. He sighed as he sat back in his seat; checking his rifle one more time. After marking sure that his ammo was squared away-he turned to speak to Veronica, but before he could begin the sound of boots approached the hog. He perked his eyes up and caught a glance of their newly assigned captain. He had a calm and collected face that was chiseled with and determination. He placed his hands on his hips as he glanced towards the platoon of men.

    "Our company has been assigned to plow through and make a route to  the city center-the belly of the beast. Now we are going to be approaching from the west, and we're going to dispatch at a small patch of trees and hopefully secure the open patch of grass between the forest and town as a FOB. But, remember our main objective is to secure a route into the city center. But, before we can do so it is important that we secure that patch of land that way we can bunker down if we need to fall back. Also, be prepared for heavy fire and the possibility of ambushes. I want AA's reported in and marked. It is vital that we secure this AO. Now I've given your Platoon leaders your specific directions, but I want you fourth platoon to secure around our dispatch and cover from the treeline. Once all of the Platoons are ready will asses the situation and then secure the FOB and then we bring the fight into the town."

    The men-mostly rookies-glanced towards each other with a bit of fear and shock and then towards their Captain and in unison spoke out, "Sir yes Sir." The Captain gave a nod-knocking on the side of the Warthog. "You're cleared to move out."       

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company Command Post: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Captain Sorelson, this is Major Blakley and I can’t wait to be working with you. The town has been bombarded, courtesy of the Vultures, and they’re hovering around for fire support. Real air support will be unavailable to us, courtesy of our useless navy, and you and the other companies will be taking this town mostly by yourselves,” he heard the Major’s voice over the speakers in his helmet. “Chances are, they’ve got machine guns prepared in uh… the tilting bank you should be seeing on the horizon now, five stories or so, and the bombed out office building down the street from it. They’ve had time to prepare, and they’re going to let you pass before they open up. I’m sending a company to distract them and I want you to sneak through the park half a click to the east of the approach. The Covenant are expecting a big push, so they’ll be moving their men wherever they hit first. Hopefully, you’ll insert yourself into a less defended area,”

“Second company will assist in the distraction, third is on standby for you to make an opening and the points I just mentioned have been marked. I want reports on the clock, Sorelson, this entire damned advance is currently sitting on your shoulders. Your record seems good, but I won‘t stand for failure on my watch. Move quickly, and I‘ll make sure you get out with some more medals on your chest. God speed. Out,” the Major concluded before the channel closed.

Wonderful, he thought, a glory-hound. He‘s sounding more like that useless Light Colonel from the Jungle Planet. Shifting the entire advance on my shoulders…reports on the clock? Sounds like he‘s never been in the field. This war will never be won with desk-jockeys giving orders. The aging marine thought keeping his eyes on the terrain before them through the use of a pair of field glasses while the rest of his under strength Company arrived on Pelican dust-offs or at least First Platoon anyways under the command of his old friend’s son. What he wouldn’t give to be under the command of an officer worth the salt in their veins rather than a glory-hound bent on spending the lives of his marines in exchange for a few shiny medals. “An under strength Company with a glory-hound Major…someone’s going to have a lot of explaining after this,” he said quietly to himself having insured the battalion-wide channel on the com-set had been switched off. He’d set up his headquarters, his Company post a distance from the town itself and wished their time on Reach had been longer along with the Company if not the entire Regiment receiving more marines fresh from boot to replace the marines that had fallen on Refuge a planet that he could see even from where he stood on the Moon Sanctuary. The site of a brutally long engagement, or rather series of isolated engagements that had been host to a disaster in the form of an EMP launched assault that knocked out both the Covenant arsenal and their own before resulting in heavy losses on both sides. The UNSC 7th Marines had fought for the planet, alongside members of the Army Garrison and in the end only one hundred fifty or so marines had managed to leave that place. The Army Garrisons from other regions had replaced the Marine presence, and had managed to keep the civilian population or what had remained of it prepared for another possible invasion by the Covenant. At least, Refuge hadn't been reduced to a dead planet as with so many others.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Maximilian "Drake" Fields
1/7, A Co, 1st Platoon
Taking a Ride on a Steel Bird

The sound of a hanger before deployment never ceased to amaze Drake, especially whenever they had to deploy to the ground. Within minutes the marines of 1st Platoon were aboard their pelican as they awaited their CO, 1st Lt. Killinger, and the platoon sergeant to board the pelican. Most of the platoon had been replaced by fresh boots, Fields being a transfer from second platoon himself, most of them hadn't seen deployment yet. As he handled his rifle, a MA5c carbine, as his squad sat in their seats. They were laughing and giving each other hell, something Drake had done with his squad on his first deployment, obviously these marines had been in the same group in bootcamp. Drake called out to his men "Third Squad, sit down and ready up, that's an order." 


"Yes Sir!" They called out, mumbling as they checked over their weapons, Drake stepped up to the edge of the compartment as the 1st Lt. Stepped aboard. "Sir, permission to speak freely?" The bay door lifted up and shut, the pelican could be felt lurching out of the hanger and into open space. The sound of the pilot's voice could be heard over the loud speakers. 

"Attention passengers, this is your uh, pilot speaking. The weather is erm, average today and we're flying over a lovely view of some rather scorched ruins. Uh, Covenant AA is unknown but it's very likely we will be fired upon and killed and uh..."
The pilot cut the channel, a look of fear started to come over the marines of third squad, and then he opened his fat mouth again.

"Uh, we'll be facing some major fire. I call the fire Maria after my wife because it causes everything to uh, break up. Right, yeah. Uh... just don't fuck up with my crew compartment and we'll be done with each other soon enough."



Sighing, Drake's squad looked worried, he felt he had to reassure them after he was finished with the 1st Lt. 

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Aboard W-151 Carrying 1st Platoon Enroute to LZ

Captain Grimm, his call sign, acknowledged what Slim said and in response revved up the engines. The deck below him vibrated, a sensation that told him they were really doing this. They really are going into combat. Slim took it as his cue to sit in the crew chair near the cockpit and strap himself in. The Crew Chief then remembered what it was like flying with Captain Montcrieff and Lt. Morehead when the later yelled over ICS as if he were trying to speak over the engines. It made him wince. 'Gottahave' as the Lt.'s call sign was suggested to the Captain that he should try and reassure the crew.

Slim then remembered exactly what it was like flying with these two. Captain Montcieff told them what the flying was going to be like and said they would be killed. He heard the co pilot tell him to tell a joke and then the Captain proceeded to remark on how he called the fire his ex-wife due to their break up. That made Slim cringe. He now remembered why his call sign was Grimm. Then they lifted in the air and followed the squadron.


The Crew Chief got several worried looks from the younger Marines and even a Sergeant next to him didn't seem to have the highest hopes. Cutting off the ICS and talking over his helmet speaker Slim said, "Don't worry about it. They like to joke. Just remember three things. One, stay seated until I say so. Two, remember your emergency exits. Three, stay out of the way of me and my big gun."

He pointed to the machine gun in the back of the cabin which Marines affectionately call the 'blood tray'. "Remember those and you should be fine. Leave all the flyer stuff to me and the sirs," he said.

He looked down at his TACPAD as they tracked their flight to the LZ.

[Jakob]

Private 1st. Class Wen Cuu
Enjoying himself immensely in 1st platoon's bird

Cuu sat in the seat, glaring at the lieutenant. He had all the features of a Killinger. The tan skin, big build, uptight and rather douchey composure. The kid mind as well have been a clone of his annoying father.

He wondered if he shared the same 'feelings' as papa Kill. The old man had tried to bury Cuu for the rather unfortunate events a few months ago, but to papa Kill's disappointment, he had managed to get off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist for the fight with the corporal.

It was good to be himself.

A private sitting across from him had been staring for ten minutes or so, looking on the verge of asking where he had gotten the huge scar against his face. Cuu smiled and then gasped,

"Boo!" he shouted, the Marine sharply taking in breath and pushing back against his chair. He smiled at the response.

Hospitalman Anthony White
Remembering

White rubbed the felt edges of the picture of him and Samuel standing together, on some vacation or another when his son was 13. White had a protective arm wrapped around his sons shoulders, the resort behind them. His wife Mary was standing off slightly to the side. That was around the time the falling out began he remembered.

He moved his hand to block her out and stared at his son's eyes. Big, bright, full of adventure, the calm before the storm that was his rebellious faze. White could feel tears brimming in his eyes, and he wiped them away with his sleeve, bringing memories of wiping the blood out of his eyes on Skopje when he operated on the Marines, still a civilian.

He sighed and continued on to the Marine next to him, some private who had asked who it was in the picture,

"I loved him, he was my son. Really, I guess I can't say much more. But after he enlisted, I hardly ever saw him, it's like a rift formed between us and it was called the Marine Corps. After I joined I expected..." he glanced to the side to see the Marine fast asleep.

"Oh... well... you get some sleep. One of us needs it," he sighed before going back to his memories.

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Acting rather grim

Grimm steadied the equalizer and lowered some of the fuel of the engines as they flew off, the high speed no longer necessary to lift the bird from the ground. They whizzed over ruins and he could see a column of Scorpions moving through some town or another, but he didn't pay much attention.

He could hear the crew chief trying to reassure the Marines in the back. When he said he liked to joke over his helmet radio, he seemed to forget that Grimm could hear the going ons in the cabin through the radio and he turned his microphone back on.

"I can hear you quite well Slim, and I don't joke," he told them. After a moment, he rubbed his mustache appreciatively. They flew for a few more minutes, Grimm ignoring the pursuing chatter from the cabin. He could see the faint form of armored columns in the distance, the buildings of a town becoming visible.

"Dust off in ETA five minutes, battalion CP is in view. Lieutenant, you're going to be looking for the venerable Major Blakly in the Elephant. Don't worry, you're nice and far from any real action." Grimm turned off the mic again, not trying to hide the distaste from his voice. Really, hating the new major was the norm in the battalion.

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1st PLT
Inbound

"I think that's the only real challenge today, sir." Kyle replied to the pilot that had contacted him. He Captain had told the Lieutenant he'd be looking for a 'Major Blakley'. Kyle had over heard his father discussing first battalion with a couple of Lieutenant Colonel's in the regiment but ultimately it was out of his pay grade. The Colonel might be his father, but he didn't know jack shit about most things.

"Cuu," Killinger said. "Play nice with the greenhorns." He had to admit, a small grin cracked over his face as the Private recoiled in slight fear.

"And go ahead, Sergeant. I've got nothing to hide behind bogus honorary titles and rank structures. At the end of the day, I am just like you fighting a war where people behind desks tell me to fight." Kyle said, leaning back in his chair as the pelican rocked slightly. He knew the Battalion's mobile CP was coming up, but he couldn't help but wonder how the fighting was going else where for the UNSC. Were they getting slaughtered on another planet? Were people getting vaporized from the glassing beams and plasma bombardments? Were they winning somewhere, pushing the Covenant out of a sector of space?

He cleared his mind, though slowly, of the negative thoughts and focused on his platoon. He was ready to fight, but he was intimidated to die. It was fearful; wondering what thoughts go through your mind - if there was any - before you died. He felt responsible for his platoons deceased after the last mission even though he knew it wasn't his fault. Who could survive a thousand foot drop in a pelican that had little wings?

He checked the clock on his HUD. Three more minutes until they arrived at the Battalion CP.

First Lieutenant Terrance Pain
1/7, A Co., 15th Armored.
In a Grizzly Tank

The threads beneath the Grizzly tank were surprisingly quiet and the engine rumbled. Pain looked out towards Alpha Company, his attached unit, and made sure the horizon was empty... at least for now. Anvil 'Actual' was there, but two and three hadn't made the trip yet. Pain knew the intensity of approaching a hostile occupied town was a lot of weight on the tankers that had seen one, maybe two deployments over their careers - but it really didn't excuse the lack of radio communications. Where were the other Anvil units?

"Sir," Pain's gunner said. While the M808B 'Scorpion' MBTs were automatically loaded inside an enclosed turret, the M850 Grizzly MBT had a supplementary position on top of the turret where the M247 HMG was mounted. He also loaded the shells into the barrels when the auto loader was damaged or rendered inoperable. "Pelicans inbound from the south, but I don't see any tanks on 'em."

"I guess we're lone wolfing this one, Marine." Pain replied. In truth, he was referring to his missing unit. Fortunately, just outside the tank, was an entire company of Marines that he could depend on to keep the Covenant away from his tank. This Heavy Tank wasn't meant to fight infantry. It was, in all meaning of the word, a tank destroyer. Though heavily armed and armored, it lacked significant infantry protection. Only one M247 provided support, whereas the Scorpions had a coaxial mounted machine gun, four positions for riders and a machine gun position on the hull of the tank.

"I'll keep a look out for more pelicans, but I don't see any on approach."

"Keep your eyes on the horizon, not the sky."

"Yes sir."

Colonel John Killinger
Seventh Marines
Inbound

"The ODSTs are requesting orders, sir."

John mused over what they could do for now. Quite honestly, he had forgotten that he had received an ODST Company as an attachment to his 'infantry' regiment. Yes... they could be extremely useful to him. John thought for a moment and decided that it was vital they get the town secure as he was planning to use it for a Regiment HQ already since the Battalion tasked with clearing out the initial Regiment HQ wasn't responding or may be engaged. The CO could very well be dead already anyways.

"Task them with Alpha Company, but instead of knocking on the Covenants front door I want them to crash the party from behind. Issue the orders to Captain Christian Hackel and forward it to Captain Sorelson as well." John replied.

"You really want that town, sir."

"Do you want to sit in a dropship all day long, Major?"

"Only if you provide the beer and women, sir."

"I would, but I don't want the women all over me because you're an ugly mother fucker."

"That's not what your mom said last night."

"Oorah!" The rest of the officers shouted. Even the small security detail was laughing.

"Here, sir. Some water for that burn."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." John replied, staring down the Major that said that. He smiled in return, a foolish 'I know I'm going to get into shit' grin, but John simply shook is head. They needed a good morale for what was about to come to light.

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Enroute to LZ

Slim swears he turned off the ICS but his cord must be faulty. Of course his squadron gets the shittiest equipment. Outlaws were more like Outcasts compared to the rest of the Pelican squadrons. Why else would they be on Reach so long? Or at least that's what he thought. Captain Grimm was true to his name as he stated that he heard the Crew Chief and reassured that he didn't joke but he eased the tension a bit by stating that they should be far from the action. 


The Lt. in the cabin chimed in, stating that was the trick of today. He then sneered at the PFC who was scaring a Private and then explained to the Sergeant next to him that he was just a simple man being told where to go by the paper pushers. Slim just simply listened and watched his TACPAD to track the trajectory. It was linked to the cameras in the front and he could see the CP. Estimated time was two minutes. He fiddled with his PAD and then a timer appeared in his HUD. Being in atmosphere now, Slim unbuckled from his seat and then clipped his Gunner's belt to the cabin to prevent him from falling off the aircraft if they had to do evasive action. He then walked to the ramp as he prepared to lower it when they landed. 


"At least you guys get to take only one or two of these. This is my job right here," he said to anyone who would listen as he patted the side of the cabin, "We got to send the grunts first before we can start bringing in the heavy stuff. We got a tank after this cruise."

[MrKill]

[TAG: Jakob, LaxKnight]

As you pass the two minutes to Battalion CP mark, two banshees arrive on your six after breaking from a nearby areal battle. They begin to fire at your engines...

[Jakob]

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Committing to evasive action

The landing zone was coming into view, green smoke marking where they were to land. He began siphoning power from the engines and deploying the landing gear when warnings began blaring across the cockpit, shipboard computers informing him of rapidly approaching unidentified vehicles.

"Montcrieff, we got two Banshees coming in fast, they appear to be preparing to fire at our-" he was cut off as the Pelican shook and began tilting to the side, "our engines."

Grimm sighed and brought power back to the engines. It would have been suicide to land under these conditions and he would rather not die today. He rotated the cannons around fired off some shots at the Banshee's but the agile fighters easily swung out of the way before coming in for another shot.

Both fired their bombs, and they might have caught most pilots with them easily, but Grimm wasn't most pilots. Without thinking and without regard for his passengers, he immediately flipped the bird upside down and banked hard into the air. The Pelican went upside down and then vertical in a matter of seconds, not giving anyone inside the compartment time to adjust. Quickly turning on his microphone, he announced through the crew loudspeakers,

"Attention crew, we are under heavy fire from several Banshee fighters and if I don't get them off of us they're going to destroy our engines. If our engines are destroyed we are going to spiral out of control and tear through the woods below us- oh, right sorry I tend to babble. Anyway, prepare for some light evasive maneuvers and everyone please strap in, we're going to be opening the door any moment now. Slim, please be prepared to fire upside down."

Grimm flipped the Pelican right again, giving the Marines a moment to get up and buckle in. Satisfied they had time, he clicked a button and began lowering the bay doors for Slim and his gun.

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Evasive maneuvers! 

The countdown was nearing two minutes when Slim began hearing a warning signal in his helmet. It took him a moment to register what that meant. He heard 1st Lt. Morehead say got two Banshees attacking their engines. With that the Pelican shuttered as it began to take fire. He felt them speed up and then with no warning what so ever they were upside down and banking hard. At least we get to see who isn't wearing a seat belt, Slim thought. He was the only one not in a seat but his Gunner's belt prevented him from being tossed around like a rag doll. However he floated in the air in a moment of weightlessness from the sudden change.

Captain Grimm then announced that they were indeed under fire and told them to prepare for 'light' evasive maneuvers and for Slim to man the gun. At that point he flipped the bird back to normal, causing him to land on his hands and knees. With new enthusiasm the young Crew Chief instantly got on his feet. There was a glint in his eyes as he brought down the ramp then the machine gun. He was slightly disoriented but he was too focused on one thing for it to stop him. To bring pain and death upon the enemies of humanity. To after being held in rear so long finally all the hours he spent training are no longer in vain as he gets to rain death and destruction on the alien bastards who decided they didn't like humanity. These grunts wouldn't understand the feeling, half of them look to be straight out of Boot and their entire job was to kill people. 


Slim sighted in on the Banshee on the right, held down the trigger, and the machine gun took a moment to spin up before it unleashed a flurry of metallic death upon its target. The gun vibrated in his hands as it pumped rounds down range. At first he was a little too far left but quickly adjusted and 7.62x51mm FMJ AP rounds from the M247 General Purpose Machine Gun began peppering the hull. A sadistic smile of joy crossed Slims lips as he wrought fire on his enemies.

[Wax™]

Second Lieutenant Justin Jenkins
Seventh Marines - AC - 4P
Inbound - via Pelican

"Lieutenant... Is it true that you were the only survivor out of your entire platoon back on Hope?" One of the young Privates spoke among the ranks of other green Privates and Corporals inside one of the two Pelicans that were holding Justin's Platoon.

"No... Your Platoon Sergeant Staff Sergeant Jenkins who decided he'd rather ride in the other Pelican survived the drop too... But I never saw his face once until we re-grouped." Justin said, the man closed his eye's for a second and within that second he swore the face of each and every one of the men who died on that Pelican flashed before his eye's. Hunt, J. Michael. Pearson, M. James. Forrest, B. Baker. The list only went on though.

"Sir is it true that your Pelican smashed through a sky scraper?" Another Private spoke up.

"I heard he fell straight out of the sky and landed in the street." Said another.

"Nah man... His Pelican smashed into another before landing on the ground... I heard a Corporal say so." Yet another Private spoke. With each sentence and each word that game out of each Privates mouth. A pain just seemed to slowly creep further and further towards his hear like a knife driving upward through his rib cage. Suddenly out of no where one of the older Privates in the Platoon, and the second most seasoned one out of his entire Platoon. Who had also survived the drop spoke out among the noise of the men and Pelican. Screaming at the top of his lungs for silence.

Staff Sergeant Jason Bowers
Seventh Marines - AC - 4P
Inbound - via Pelican

Jason sat in the rear right most seat in the Pelican, making sure he was the closest by the door. He took a few moments to lift his head and look at each of the Privates and new Corporals that sat in the crowded Pelican. Each of the men were talking among them selves about what the left back home. Mainly women that they probably never even slept with. Half the kids in this bucket were eighteen or nineteen years. They still had fucking 'spots' on their faces Jason though to himself.

Jason just sighed and shook his head before standing up and looking out the thin window slit that was on the rear hatch. Outside was a standard troop carrier warthog attached to the Pelicans magnetic tail. Waving slightly in the wind. Jason turned his head as soon as he heard someone bring up hope and how the UNSC got their ass kicked. No one was supposed to know. But word travels quick in a Battalion full of soldiers who were pissed off at HIGHCOMM. Especially the seasoned ones considering they were being sent back in. This time to the same planets moon.

"Alirght." Jason said calmly. "Each and every one of you little fucking faggots need's to sit the fuck down before I make you sit down... We lost back on Hope yes... We lost a lot of men back on Hope yes... A lot of us seasoned fighters feel that HIGHCOMM had to do a lot with our losses yes... But that doesn't change the fact that we are following orders... And that doesn't for one second." He said before leaning down into the face of one of the Privates before yelling out to him. "Mean you get to flap those fucking lips! About those men that died down there on that planet! They died for the UNSC and they died fighting for those we left back home! And all I can hear from your fucking mouth is what we could have done to survive!" Jason stopped for a moment to take in a breath.

"Out Pelicans and HEV'S! STOPPED WORKING AND FELL OUT OF THE FUCKING SKY!" He said before leaning back into that same Privates face who had now sunk down into their seat. "There was nothing we could fucking do that would have ensured our survival. Those that did fucking survive were just fucking lucky... And those that died on the ground, died fighting." He then pulled away for a second time. "Half of you in this Pelican... Maybe even myself... Will died today... If not all of you fuckers... You want to earn my respect after this..." Jason said sighing before going quiet and moving to his seat before dropping himself into it. "Prove me wrong." He said before going quiet, along with the rest of the Pelican.

"Three minutes to drop." Said the Pilot over the Pelicans cargo PA.

PFC Daniel Mendoza

Seventh Marines - AC - 4P

Inbound - via Pelican

"For christ sake shut the fuck up! Can't you see the man is in pain! It was his first ever deployment as a CO and he lost all his men... And all of you little green as grass fuckers are doing nothing to make it better either... Half of you kids are probably going to die on this moon like our men died back on Hope... So shut the fuck up... And when we land keep your head down and listen to your Corporal! Corporals!" He said despite being a lower rank. "Listen to your Sergeants! And Sergeants listen to the Lieutenant! Cause if Hope taught this fine man anything." Mendoza said standing up and moving over to Justin.

"It's how to survive against those Covenant fuckers... Ya'll should be lucky to have him as a Lieutenant. Mendoza said before patting Justin's shoulder and taking a seat.

"Alrighty boys... Three to two minutes till touch down." Said the Pilot.

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company Command Post: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

The waiting was the most difficult part of any mission, but when it came down to fighting for one’s life in a foxhole to having a piece of rebar sticking out of your thigh he could handle the waiting. To add to a cliché, the fighting would begin soon enough and marines would fight to defend this moon and would die while taking down as many of the squid-lips to methane-breathers and avians as possible. He’d seen his share of the war, the moment of lucid sanity and piss-grabbing fear that anyone that hadn’t set foot in a foxhole or felt the vibrations from a pelican’s thrusters through the bulkhead of a blood tray would never experience, but he wouldn’t give it up. Those whom claimed they knew of that fear were either liars, or poets that had managed to wander into the wrong bar. One knew whom the veterans were, the survivors of their trade, as most that had experienced it first-hand were host to the thousand yard stare. He wouldn’t trade it, and it hadn’t been that he’d come to be a war-nut or one of those service personnel that hadn’t been able to readjust to society outside the military. The war had become as much a part of his life as he had become a fixture in it, a symbol that while though he hadn’t been fond of calling himself that or even a big fan of that art, he’d become someone his men could look up to. Sometimes though, he missed being an NCO able to be out in the trenches or marching alongside the treads of a tank with the marines under his command. He’d been a commissioned officer for nearly the last two decades through battlefield commissions, but at heart…at his core he’d remained an NCO holding an MA5C polished, with a round in the chamber and a full mag.

The other platoons of his Company had managed to arrive, but First Platoon the one that had been the most under strength, hadn’t arrived yet and were almost overdue. Alpha Company had taken the brunt of the losses, heavy casualties during the drop on Refuge only months previous and as a result the Platoons within the Company were under strength. He’d been crippled, nearly left for dead, by a piece of rebar that had been forced through his thigh and while the rebar had been pulled out with the injury healed there were nights he’d been able to feel it. The right leg had been written off as a loss, too much blood loss and necrosis had started to set in by the time the marines in Refuge had been evacuated. In its place, he’d been given a titanium prosthetic that had with effort by the designer been made to pass as a more natural leg and there were times when Phantom Limb Syndrome kicked up to where the nerves in his body still felt the former limb. He’d been told about a week after his recovery by the Corps’ psychologists that the feelings of the missing limb would remain for a few months or longer before fading, but at the same time it hadn’t made things any easier.

“Gunny, hold down the fort and keep an ear on those Pelicans carrying First Platoon. When Lieutenant Bishop arrives, inform him of First Platoon’s situation. I’ll be out making the rounds…” Mark began when a young Corporal, his communication’s officer interrupted him from where he’d been monitoring Regiment-wide communications. A bank of communication monitors, ranging from field CB-radios surrounded the Corporal, in a rats nest of cables utilized to maintain a constant stream of communications with other units in the field from Fireteam to Regiment size.

“Sir,…Spade, we have an incoming transmission from Regiment HQ,” the Corporal called out knowing that the command bunker had at least been secured.

“Out with it,” Mark replied crossing over to the communication’s center and leaned over the Corporal’s shoulder to stare into a display monitor.

“It appears we’re going to receive reinforcements from the One-Five-Three Company, and…you can help yourself, Sir,” the Corporal said before noticing his commander was behind him. While the Corporal offered up his station, he slipped from the chair and allowed Mark to take a seat while of course maintaining communications.

“John’s given us a lever…” Spade muttered reading over the display monitor and the forwarded transmission copy sent from the Regiment HeadQuarters.

“Lever, Sir?” the Corporal asked.

“An old saying, Son. If you have a big enough lever, you can move the world. The Colonel’s sent us the lever, in the form of ODSTs from the One-Five-Three. Nice job, Corporal,” Spade explained before pushing from the chair to allow the young Corporal to reclaim his post. “Archive that transmission, and secure it. When Captain Hudson arrives, make sure his men and women are assigned to tents while they’re here. When the Captain arrives, I want to meet with him and let him know to meet me in my office. Gunny, hold down the fort. You know the drill. Record and archive every transmission, and for any major updates page me on frequency…” he recited the encrypted frequency of his helmet-com the Gunny could reach him at if there were any major updates.

* * * * * *

Stepping out of the command bunker, of reinforced sandbags over layers of instacrete the aging Captain took a deep breath. For some reason, command bunkers he’d found were fairly stifled and too crowded for his preference. It was true, that every command bunker including the one for his Company had two A/C units, with backups and fans allocated across the ceiling to help circulate the air and to prevent the smell of sweat and blood to overpower those held within, but in his experience there wasn’t anything that could prevent the smell of blood and sweat. It was a permanent feature of life, and always permeated even the starch-pressed uniforms of the Fleet in their air conditioned ships. Hefting the MA5C in hand, he’d chamber a round and snapped the bolt back to prime the weapon for firing before slinging it over his shoulder to where the strap lay firm against his shoulder. He’d made sure the M6B Nickel-Plated Fifty-Cal Magnum sidearm had a round chambered earlier while he’d waited for his Command post to be erected, and knew the magnum lay primed if he’d needed it.

The areas surrounding the command post were alive with activity, from marines that had already landed carrying crates of supplies ranging from ammunition to surplus MA5 Rifles, DMRs…or Battle Rifles as the case had been recently due to the Battle Rifles phasing out the DMRs save for use in the Army. Medical supplies in crates marked with the traditional Red Cross to field rations, water rations and more had been delivered to his Company’s position while his own platoons or at least First Platoon still had been in transit. Tents ranging from medical to the shower stalls to the unisex heads and the ones containing the bunks for his marines had been erected in addition to ammunition stores, ration stores and even a few for the motor-pool lay littered in as near an ordered and fairly organic layout as one could manage in the field. Camouflage nets had been draped over the tents matching the surrounding foliage, and it brought a small smile to Mark’s features knowing the marines of Alpha Company hadn’t broken from the last mission. The Marines, the veterans were hit hardest in that mission on Refuge and their morale had reached a new low-point, but even with the low morale his marines hadn’t given up. They’d spent a little time on R&R only to come back when their marching orders had come through, and had come back into the field showing that the hardships on Refuge had only hardened them further.

His sights fell on the only tank destroyer, the only Grizzly in the Company’s arsenal so far near one of the motor-pool bays and from where he stood he’d been able to make out the tank’s crew buzzing around it making repairs or making breakfast. Realizing he had a bit of time, Spade took off towards where the Grizzly lay distancing himself from the command bunker set low in the ground to reduce its profile. Making sure to keep beneath the camouflage netting, he’d take in the sights of activity going on around him.

*******

The twin-guns of the Grizzly tank destroyer lay dormant at least for the time being though the aging marine knew when the time came he’d rather be the one riding behind those guns or walking behind the tank as those two guns could deliver a punch powerful enough to knock out a Wraith. Noticing the Grizzly’s crew were doing what they could, Mark took the time to walk around and admire the heavy piece of armor that could in a moment’s notice dig out his Company from an early grave. He’d seen the abilities of the Grizzly in action over the years, and had come to respect the tank destroyers. The thought crossed his mind, a mark of curiosity as to why his Company had been only allocated one Grizzly for the time being and where the other two might have been.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Maximilian Drake Fields

1/7, A Co, 1st Platoon

In for a Bumpy Ride

"And go ahead, Sergeant. I've got nothing to hide behind bogus honorary titles and rank structures. At the end of the day, I am just like you fighting a war where people behind desks tell me to fight."



Drake didn't understand what that was all about as the pelican rocked slightly under his feet; the 1st Lt. taking a seat. Maybe it's because of who is father is, Drake thought, before speaking to the Lt. "Sir, I just wanted to bring up that most of these men are fresh boots. I was just thinking it might be a good idea to say something to them. Possibly prepare them for what their about to see," Drake stopped for a second, looking back at his squad, all of them fresh boots. "Also sir, even though I haven't been part of this unit long, I've served with your father on a few ops already. I won't judge you because of who he is, but I do trust you sir." Drake saluted the 1st Lt. before sitting back down, barely strapping his harness when the pelican flipped upside down. 

"Attention crew, we are under heavy fire from several Banshee fighters and if I don't get them off of us they're going to destroy our engines. If our engines are destroyed we are going to spiral out of control and tear through the woods below us- oh, right sorry I tend to babble. Anyway, prepare for some light evasive maneuvers and everyone please strap in, we're going to be opening the door any moment now. Slim, please be prepared to fire upside down."




The pelican flipped upright again, the vibrations from the gun shaking the compartment. "Strap down marines, this is gonna be a fun ride." Drake watched as the marines climbed back into their seats. The Lance Corporal that the Sergeant had met with the Col. walked over to the gun that was at the other end of the compartment. A few seconds later the bay door opened, and his gun started talking to the banshees. "Hey Corporal, you shoot those bastards down and I'll buy you and the whole platoon a round of drinks when we get back to Reach." The Sergeant called out, hoping that would raise the moral of his men.

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Kicking Ass

The encouragement from the Sergeant only made Slim smile wider as he put rounds on target. The Banshee shuttered with every hit. It tried to perform some evasive maneuvers but it was limited due to the proximity of the other Banshee. Eventually it was pierced enough that one (or multiple) rounds penetrated something vital. There was sparks and then the Banshee went down, trailing smoke behind it. "Flying Tango down! One to go!" he cheered. His eyes lit up with joy. Finally his first kill.

However the excitement was short lived when the other Banshee opened fired on them. Slim swiveled his machine gun to face his foe without taking his fingers off the trigger. However without its wingman to obstruct him it was easier for the Banshee to evade his hail of fire. The Crew Chief was finding some hits but it was much tougher this time. However he never felt so alive. Shooting down an enemy with a gun that fires so fast it almost makes his hands go numb. He began firing in burst to try and gain some accuracy and prevent overheating.

[Jakob]

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Committing to evasive action

Grimm's eyes narrowed as the second Banshee began doing spinning maneuvers to dodge Slim, obviously the pilot a much more adapt flyer than his wingman was. When plasma fire sprayed the crew cabin, more than likely killing a man or two, Grimm knew it was time to up the evasive maneuvers.

His first action was to remove the crew from the line of fire, but he couldn't shoot the thing down without Slim, or at least without him keeping the thing on its feet. The second he closed the bay door to protect the crew it could get a lock on his engine with the plasma bomb and that wasn't going to work at all.

Instead, he tore his controls upwards again, the Banshee swinging up to meet them easily. He was pointing straight to the sun as they flew and he was going as fast as he could without murdering everyone in the cabin from the pressure, which was still fast enough to make him quite dizzy even with his mask. The Banshee sprayed some more plasma, raking it across his engines and the Pelican shook as something exploded in the back.

"Engine two is gone, we're running on one through three right now. I'll adjust power but... we're wasting a lot of fuel..." Grimm got an idea and his eye's widened, he quickly checked a readout and spoke cooly into the comms,

"Did Slim fill up the back up tanks? The gasoline in case the regular fuel buggered out?" Gottahave glanced at his terminal before nodding,

"They're all filled up,why-"

"Switch fuel to backup, give it the petrol, now!" Grimm said, his voice slightly above its usual pitch. He knew the Elite flying the Banshee would be just as disoriented as everyone in the Pelican from the flight, but he didn't have long before they were too high for the crew and he'd have to go back down. Without asking why, Gottahave switched the fuel...

And watching through the cameras, Grimm saw the hole where the plasma cut through the engine start pouring gasoline all over the front of the Banshee, coating it with black. Grimm keyed his intercomm to the Pelican loud speakers, knowing something that would get morale up,

"Hey Slim, want a light?"

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Lighting It Up

The Banshee's fire was a little too close for comfort, some of the plasma hitting near him. He heard a scream as it struck one of the Marines. This fiend was a much better pilot than his wingman and all Slim was doing was suppressing it from taking a killing blow. They needed an edge or some nifty maneuver to line him up right. Then suddenly the bird went straight up He saw it fire upon one of the engines and he felt the Pelican shake as it struck its target. He saw the smoke start trailing behind them and his fears were confirmed when he heard Captain Grimm say they were running on three engines. He then heard him ask if Slim filled up the bird. Slim would be insulted if he wasn't too busy trying to shoot this son of a bitch down. Captain Grimm then asked to switch it to back up.


What is he thinking? Slim thought, If the fuel lines were damaged then the fuel would leak out.  And sure enough he saw (and smelled) the fuel falling behind them. It just so happened to splash all over the Banshee but the pilot simply ignored it for its canopy was still intact. When Captain Grimm asked Slim if he wanted a light over the loud speakers he caught on to what the pilot was doing. Slim took a moment to aim then held down the trigger as he open fired. The bullets flew true as he literally lit up the target as friction of the rounds impacting the armor caused a spark to light up the fuel. The Banshee was a blaze of glory for a moment as it wobbled around, stunned at what just happened, before finally the fire spread to critical systems and it exploded into a big ball of flame. He heard some Marines behind him cheer.


"Tango down!" Slim reported over the com, "And I may not smoke but I do enjoy a good bottle of whiskey sir."

[Jakob]

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Flying home

Grimm nodded in satisfaction as he saw the Banshee ignite on the screen. It was nice to see the armor on a Covenant ship melt away for a change, normally it being the UNSC armor that was dripping away from some sustained plasma fire. He followed the view until he saw the Banshee tear through the trees and explode and then finally turned it off, happy with the result.

When Slim finished his one liner, Grimm closed the cargo doors and righted the Pelican again, swinging it wide to get them back on track before saying one last thing in the intercom,

"I'll buy you some when we finish up, same goes to anyone who tags a Banshee for me." With that, he turned off the intercom and began redirecting the fuel away from the missing engine. The bit of theatrics was nice, but it wouldn't be so fun if the fuel spilled over the fire licking the engine from the explosion and annihilated the entire ship.

[Jakob]

Major Lucas Blakley
Grinding his teeth

Blakley saw that none of the units were moving and when he asked over radio about it, he was told it was because first company was still waiting for some of their idiot compatriots. He simply didn't have time to wait however, the entire advance was waiting on this CP, and high command was breathing down his neck and asking where the hell the town was.

Taking a long, deep sip of coffee to cool his nerves, he keyed his comm to the radio channel of each of the captain's under him.

"Attention all company commanders, this means you Sorelson, go on with the advance immediately. Reinforcements will be sent in as they come but I don't want this god damned advance stalling because my commanders have trepidations about a battle.

Get moving, now, progress reports will be expected in ten."

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1st Platoon
Son of a bi...

Kyle, after the nearly overwhelming G Force maneuver, shakily put a cigarette in his mouth and allowed the Corporal sitting next to him to light it. In inhaled slightly, paused, and repeated the process of shocked breathing four times before his lungs were filled with air. He exhaled and watched as the plumes of smoke came out in a rhythm of clouds. He raised his arm and watched as it bobbed up and down slightly, shaking like an earthquake.

"F---fuck sake..." He muttered out to the Lance Corporal and returned his hand to his side. He inhaled the cigarette again. The smoke was gone in less than a minute. He put it own on his wrist armor and tossed it out the open ramp, calming down slightly. He wasn't a smoker, but that maneuver had already fried his nerves.

"Is this how you flyboys always fly?" Kyle asked, coughing out the rest of the smoke in his lungs.

Colonel Johnathon Killinger
Seventh Marines
Groundside

"Okay, sir. Your cleared to disembark!" The pilot said over his shoulder. John thanked the man and walked out into the troop bay, continued through it and gracefully walked down the ramp and onto the dirt a couple hundred meters away from Blakleys command post - which was an elephant equipped to be a mobile command and control center - where he mounted the warthog that the pelican released from its clamps. The troop transport variant of the 'Hog housed seven Marines, and in this case only the Colonel and six Marines. If the hog was taken out, the Regiment HQ staff weren't taken with it.

John was joined with two M41 LAAG variant 'hogs escorts on his way to the mobile command post, which was closing quickly. Quite frankly, people walked faster than the elephant in most cases. As the distance closed, John pulled out his tactical pad and begun reading the progress report from Fifth Battalion. Good, they had gained some ground along the line, but not enough ground to make it truly significant.

"Major Blakley, I'm inbound to your position. ETA three minutes, Killinger out."

[littlesoldier]

ODST PFC Kevin Decker, Alpha Company,153rd ODSTs

Awaiting Drop

    Kevin had been waiting for the all clear from his Commanding Officer. He had still been in the ship, sitting in his inactive pod. He couldn't wait to blast the Covies right back to where they came from. Iowa was fun, but he'd have to part with it...for now anyway. Shooting and running and more shooting. We were about to as they say....going feet first into Hell. Doing a last minute check on his guns and ammo, Kevin was anxious for battle. He going to do more good for Humanity and going to send those Covenant bastards straight back to hell from which they came. He was ready. Or at least he thought he was, as he would soon learn that he forgot one M10 grenade, which was still in the armory. 


    The wait seemed to take hours although it was only minutes. Kevin could just picture the fight in his mind, shooting along side his fellow Helljumpers, killing grunts and taking the lives of Elites. The battle would be intense, action-packed, and suspenseful. All of which he craved for. Hopefully, the war would end soon, so that he may return to his father and tell him all the great stories he had in combat. Kevin knew it was almost time to drop, he could feel it. This was going to be thrilling. "Feet first into hell." Kevin told himself. Unknowingly forming a smirk on his face.

(OCC: Sorry for the sudden change of my post. I just got a PM of what ODSTs Were supposed to be doing in this. Also, I just read the post below me. Sorry Frazer. I didn't know ODSTs couldn't post here until you gave the all clear.)

[Frazer]

Gunnery Sergeant John Stonebridge

UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, 153rd ODSTs, Alpha Comapny, Company Sergeant.

UNSCS Iowa, awaiting drop.

John checked himself over. This was is. No matter how many jumps he did, John could never get use to the jumps. John peered over to Commanding Officer of his Company, a friend. The Command Officer talked over the comm to the entire company. "Right everyone this is it. Strap in. We have our briefing, we are going straight into hell, behind the lines where we belong. Lets go get us some breakfast. Ill see you all on the ground. Good luck." John nodded.

The pods launched from Iowa spiralling to the surface. The pod was giving off a lot of Gs but it wasnt something training hadnt prepared them for. As they got closer to the ground, John could see just glimpses of the town they were hitting. Suddenly the sky erupted in fire as they neared the ground. Pods were being shot out of the sky like there was no tomorrow. John looked right and saw the Commanding Officers pod flame up. That was it. The CO, his friend gone. It was looking like most pods were being hit, officer pods, platoon leaders pods, everything. 

John didnt have time to mourn. His pod we nearing the ground from behind the town. As he looked forward his pod got hit. Due to the impact John blacked out with the sound of his pod screeching downwards.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

John slowly opened his eyes to see his some fellow ODSTs banging on the front of his pod. John released the handle and flopped out of the pod into the small group of ODSTs awaiting him. They were under fire from Covenant troops in the town by the looks of it, John thought to himself as he was dragged into cover. John managed to bring himself to speak. "Status."

"Gunny, there's no easy way to say it so I am just gonna say it, all officers, most platoon commanders and over half companies squadmates are dead. We got hit pretty heavy. Since your the only one with the rank Gunnery Sergeant in the company your now in charge." One of the sergeants said to him. Great, how in gods name can he take the town from behind now with most of his company dead. John knelt to the side of the two sergeants as he peeked to see his company under fire from the town, just what he thought. There wasnt a lot of them left on his side. John decided to give the company some actual orders instead of just sat there with there fingers up their arses. 

"Right listen in Alpha. We have a lost a lot of people landing in. I have taken charge of the company as I am afraid all officers are dead. This may look bad, heck it is bad. But we can still do this. I am going to try and get a comm line with marines on the otherside of town. Stay in cover and keep those covie sons of a bitches at bay. Dont take any risks until we get further orders. Stonebridge out." John then changed over his channel to what he thought was the marine global channel.

"Col Killinger. Marines. Anyone. This is Gunnery Sergeant Stonebridge of Alpha Company, 153rd ODSTs. We got hit pretty heavy. All officers are dead and I am now in charge of the company. We are down by half strength. Requesting updated orders. Stonebridge out." John then changed back the comm. He then looked to the sergeants again. "I need an XO. Who is the XO now of this company?"

"Staff Sergeant Jessica Willowbay, Gunny." The second Sergeant said. John nodded. He needed the XO with him to so they could come up with a plan of attack or rather a counter attack.

 "Staff Sergeant Willowbay. Report to me further up the line. Your needed. Stonebridge out." John awaited the Sergeant to come to him.

(OCC: The Companies CO for this mission is now my character, Gunnery Sergeant John Stonebridge. The XO is Tracker's Staff Sergeant. Also ODST PCs can now post in the mission. Remember your apart of Alpha Company with the rest of us.)

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company Command Post: Firebase Carbide: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Sir, I was waiting to see if two pelicans carrying First Platoon arrived. I’ve already deployed the platoon and a half on hand with light armor support. Tornado Actual; out,” Mark replied, glad he'd finished that business. He'd realized the term of despising his commanding officer the Major of 1st Battalion hadn’t even come close to his opinions of the man. The man may have had an oak cluster, the rank of a superior officer, but he was a loathsome man and someone that even if Mark found himself sharing a foxhole if the man were wounded he’d hand him a grenade and let him pull the pin. He’d served under many a fine officer in his time with a share of not-so-worthy pinhead glory-hounds that wouldn’t know how to clean out a latrine if their life depended on it.

John, his old friend, knew that Mark never liked deploying into an operation with less than half his men on the field or if even half of his men had been in transit on transports. He’d lacked intel, which had in this case been based more on Major Blakely’s best guess. He’d been sending his men in fairly blind, and while he’d been able to deploy some recon units to scout the area he hadn’t been able to deploy more than a few. He simply hadn’t had the manpower to be able to do so since Alpha Company had been the hardest hit in the drop on Refuge. He’d certainly have a word, more than a word with the kind Major after this for dogging him and shifting the responsibility of the entire operation onto his shoulders. It’s true, Mark could handle quite a bit from holding an intersection with only a squad or two to busting through a barricade with a few well placed rockets, but throughout history military officers that went in with half their men on the ground either had to fill tons of body bags or lost their entire command from foolish senior officers such as the Major.

“Mortar crews, sight your targets for long-range fire and give me forty rounds each. Soften the interior of that town, and work your way to the extremities. Take into account that we have friendly elements of the One-Five-Three within the town with their location. Keep in mind Second and Third Platoons are en-route to the town,” he’d opened a channel to the command post’s/firebase’ mortar crews whom jumped into action making the adjustments on their mortars. He’d send word down the chain to the armor elements, the Grizzly tank destroyer to the Scorpions on hand if he had any and the warthog crews whom seemed truly enthusiastic to be ready to be on the move. “Mortar crews, fire,”

“Tornado Actual to Stonebridge. Gunny, keep an eye open for incoming mortar rounds. Forty rounds per mortar have been authorized, but more can be on their way if you need them. Be advised, Stonebridge. Incoming mortar rounds from Firebase Carbide. Two platoons with light armor are en-route, and should link up with your people. I will keep this channel open. Gunny, if you need anything it’ll be yours,” Mark said, having heard the transmission from Gunnery Sergeant Stonebridge on the other side of the town.

More than a few mortars supplied by marine mortar crews opened fire lobbing their shells into the town’s interior, accompanied by the long range fire of at least one or two of the Scorpions Alpha Company had been granted. Two of his platoons or rather a Platoon and a half, in the form of Second and Third Platoon with Fourth in reserve since First Platoon hadn’t arrived had been deployed before Blakely’s most recent banter approached the town at differing angles. The Platoons had orders to cover each other while the firebase that Alpha Company had managed to occupy provided suppressive fire for his platoons and that of the ODSTs of the One-Fifty-Third. If Blakely wanted the town, he’d have it though Mark wouldn’t send his men into the obvious crossfire set in the park the Major had designated as a weak spot.

He’d love to be with his men, with rifle in hand, approaching the city or even driving one of the warthogs though he knew the Major would have a crying fit if he did that.

“He has the patience of a mule, doesn’t he, Sir?” the Gunny asked having moved up alongside Mark whom had returned to the command bunker.

“Don’t hear him say that, and yes…he does. I could think of more than a few other choice insults. I’m sorry for the mule,” Mark said, in full knowledge he’d switched the battalion wide frequency off along with a direct frequency the Major had used to contact him for the time being although he could be alerted or paged by it and had moved the mic a little bit. “Reminds me of Burnsides,”

“Burnsides? You mean General Burnsides, or the maker of the Burnside Carbine?” the Gunny asked.

“One in the same, Gunny. The men didn’t like him either, but he made a fairly good firearm,” Mark explained.

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Terrance Pain
1/7, A Co., 15th Armored
...Time to secure a town!

The Grizzly wasn't quiet no more, oh no. After Pain confusingly looked at what the Captain was doing walking around his glorious battle tank and leaving without any orders, Pain decided to take point with two other platoons on his six. In his immediate area, he had a fireteam of Marines riding on his threads - which the tank wasn't designed for - but could support Terrance learned.

Other men and women were walking in a closer proximity to the tank destroyer. Good, they had anti-personnel capabilities with the escort. This made the Grizzly MBT nearly impervious to infantry ambushes. Pain grinned to himself in his canopy. I'm gunna enjoy blowing those bastards to kingdom come! Pain thought, turning the turret of his canon and zooming on on the leaning bank Covenant fire was erupting from.

"Clear the fucking tracks, boys! I'mmmmaaa ffffffffffffiiiiring my lazors!" Pain yelled, flipping the switch on for the auto-loader. He heard two loud thumps from behind his head as the high explosive rounds entered the breaches, "Up!" His gunner shouted. The tank was ready to fire.

Pain switched to the 153rd ODST channel, "Anvil Actual to 153rd ODST Co. CO, be advised: Inbound HE shells to Pulluso bank, vacate the area if you've got men around there. Firing for effect - ten HE and two smokes to indicate I've stopped firing. Anvil Actual out!"

He switched back to his internal communications with his loader.

"On the way!" Pain yelled, as the first barrel fired. He watched and traced the shot. It landed short of the building, but took out a parked police car and a fountain of dirt. The auto-loader begun to load the barrel again when Pain fired the second round, smashing into the left of the bank and taking some of the structure with it in a ball of black smoke.

"Second salvo, up!" His gunner shouted.

"On the way!" Pain repeated. The two rounds hit center target, high right and lower-mid left from the retical Pain was using. Like before, sections of the building were propelled and skewed mid-air from the second round before hitting the ground in thumps of dust. Three medium holes in the bank had now weakened the structural support. Pain thought about focusing the rest of his shots on bringing the facility down, but quickly changed his mind. He wanted to open it up the best he could so ground troops didn't have to fire at windows to register hits.

"Third salvo, up!" The gunner informed.

"On the way!" Pain said, pulling the triggers again. This time, he waited as the first one hit the banks far right corner and took out a decent chunk. The floor above it buckled and fell to the ground, taking a couple of silhouettes with it. The second round hit the lower support beam near the sign, which caused it to topple over and crash on top of a limousine.

"Fourth salvo, up!"

"On the way!"

The next two rounds hit near the top of the building, creating more rubble on the streets and opening up a large portion of the banks structure. At least the structure facing the tank. More of it crumpled away and revealed a silhouette hiding behind it. It began to move when his gunner opened up with five rounds bursts, but the distance was too great for the Marine to hit accurately.

"Fifth salvo, up!"

"On the way!"

The next salvo only had one hit, as the other round missed the corner of the bank and hit a nearby building. The round that did manage to hit the building went through a previous hole and destroyed some of the floor supports. Above floors buckled, revealing office desks and spewing rubble onto the floor.

"Sixth salvo, up!"

"On the way!"

The next two rounds hit mid center, where Pain was aiming, and higher left near the buildings top left corner. Pain repeated the process again and again, taking chunks of the building with each shot he fired, allowing Marines - but more importantly the platoon snipers that accompanied the two companies - lines of fire. As predicted, the company snipers started firing. By now, the tank had advanced within 1, 000 meters of the target location and was arriving on the outskirts of the town.

Pain depleted his rounds and fired the two smoke canisters, which popped and filled the middle floor with smoke that vented out on all four sides. His rounds were deplete, but his ears were ringing now. "Motherfu- That's what I call a can of whoop ass, squid lip bitches!" Pain shouted as his canopy opened. His barrels were warm, and he needed them to cool off.

He switched to the C2 channel. "Anvil Actual to Assassin Actual and Tornado Actual, Marines have reached the edge of the town. Out."

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company Command Post: Firebase Carbide: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Anvil Actual to Assassin Actual and Tornado Actual, Marines have reached the edge of town. Out,” chimed the transmission from the Grizzly tank destroyer over one of the command bunker’s com-lines. Spade had been following the advance of marines with their armor support on the town with his field glasses, and the transmission from Anvil Actual confirmed what he’d been able to visually assess.

“Tornado Actual to Anvil Actual. Transmission acknowledged. Mortar rounds have been authorized to soften the area beginning from the interior out towards the position of elements of the One-Five Three under command of Gunny Stonebridge. You should be seeing the out-bound rounds now. Outstanding, Anvil Actual. A six pack of beer each to you and your entire crew. Tornado Actual; out,” Mark replied, acknowledging the First Lieutenant’s report over the same channel.

“Tornado Actual to Assassin Actual. Advance is in progress. Marines have reached the outskirts of the town, and artillery bombardment is still in the process of softening the targets. Elements of the One-Five-Three have dropped in behind the Covenant on the other side of the town, but have encountered heavy resistance. Tornado Actual; out,” he said, switching the channel off. He didn’t care for making progress reports on the dot, and while he understood the need…even the necessity of a timetable most of them were far more lenient in nature. He wasn’t strict officer material, that was clear, but he’d make sure the marines…every marine under his command made it out alive if possible.

“Hasn’t First Platoon landed yet?” he asked, to no one in particular.

“Negative. They haven’t landed yet. Reports are coming in Lieutenant Killinger's pelican encountered two Banshees en-route to the Battalion HQ,” the young Corporal manning the communication’s consoles reported.

“The Major didn’t bother to have Triple-A ready, did he?” Mark asked knowing the answer to that one already. If the Major had ordered Triple-A to open fire, the Pelicans or at least one of them wouldn’t have taken damage and possible injuries to the marines aboard from the altercation. “When you receive word those Pelicans do land here, have the fuel teams on stand-by to refuel those birds and to repair them. We’re going to need air-support, and dust-offs...MedEVACs before this town's secure,”

Unlike the useless Light Colonel from the Jungle Planet that had sent three Pelicans against flights of Banshees, he wasn't going to send the crews of those Pelicans on the same useless errand. Spade would use them in a more devious fashion, as a means to harass rather than destroy and while the Covenant were distracted the marines on the ground with their light armor or the artillery from the firebase would take them out. As for Dust-offs and MedEVAC needs, he'd use the Pelicans in those roles considering he lacked purpose built medical transports.

“Aye, Sir…Spade,” the Corporal replied.