Unit Mission: Seventh Marines

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Upping A Bird

Several things have happened while Avi was working on their bits. The fuel truck came and gone having filled up the bird. Ordnance came out with their red helmets and carts and mounted Archer missile pods on the Pelican, stating that they been ordered to mount them on all aircraft planetside in case of another Banshee attack. Airframes was finished repairing the rest of the Pelican. There was just one spot they have left. Just waiting on Avi.


"Fucking Avi," Slim cursed to himself. They've been waiting on them all day as they did their checks and splicing and whatever else they did. He was a Crew Chief, he didn't care much for Avi shit and he was certainly losing patience on them now. They could have transported vehicles and crew or provided air support right now. From the coms it certainly sounded like First Battalion and the ODSTs needed all the help they can get. All he can do is wait as everything else was done. Well they didn't have a new set or orders or a mission yet since Jenny took his original one. 


Some movement caught his eye and Avi was backing off from the engine. They got off the bird and were heading back. Instantly Airframes was placing new panels covering up the hole to the engine. All the repairs should be finished soon. Slim walked up to the pilots and said, "The bird is almost up gentlemen. All that's left is putting on the panels. What is our next mission?"

[Joker]

ODST Corporal Aaron Cole, 153rd ODSTs, Alpha Company 

Pinned Down

Cole kept a steady stream of fire, reloaded his assault rifle and continued firing his weapon. There wasn't much else he could do other than fire on the Covenant as they assaulted their position. Gunny Stonebridge told him to keep their heads down and that's what he intended to do. 

A grunt lumbered out of cover to take a potshot with his needler, but Cole was faster than him. He fired into the stocky creature and tore a gaping hole into his breather, spraying methane out of it before it ignited and killed the grunt. 

Satisfied, he slid back into cover as the plasma burned away the cover he'd been using a second before. They were going to get slaughtered if they didn't move soon, or the rest of the Battalion didn't reach them. It was a shitty situation all the way around, but he volunteered for this. 

Second Lieutenant Saint arrived and Cole breathed a sigh of relief for the first time since he'd hit the ground. Someone to finally take control of this jacked up situation. 

Again, Cole popped out of cover and opened up with his rifle. He checked the counter and saw he had only half his magazine left. He had one more magazine after this, and then he didn't know what he'd do. For now, he'd just drive on and give the Covies hell. 

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company: In the Town: En-Route to First Platoon‘s position assisting Fourth Platoon: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“There…” Mark said catching sight of a high concentration of plasma fire with dwindling ballistics return fire and Gauss fire. He‘d stopped the other warthogs behind him, near an old barbecue restaurant that had definitely seen better days. The sign of the place laid out in big accented letters had been left to partially dangle near the main doors to the building, and even a letter had torn loose from the brackets anchoring it to the rest of the sign to lay in the street as a nearly forgotten reminder the town had once been a bustling home to families, business owners, miners, territory prospectors and even the occasional thief among them. Having stepped out of the lead warthog while the others had taken cover in the shadow of the building or in one of the covered alleys flanking the mostly intact shell of the brick and mortar building, he’d easily detached one of the lenses of the field-issued glasses thanks to their modular construction before placing it in the corner of the restaurant’s drive-thru window which had been oddly shielded from view by a length of rain-gutter that had sheared off from the brackets that had formerly held it in place on the roof. The field-glasses had a feature little used where it could be linked to a live-feed to the user’s HUD while the officer or marine kept hidden from view and from return fire.

The live-feed from the lens kept a steady feed on the obvious Covenant troops firing without a concern on two pinned down UNSC elements with dwindling resources while Mark had sat only a few feet away behind the safety or at least shielded with his back against the brick and mortar of the restaurant’s inner wall. Time to get moving, he realized and allowed the lens to take in the amount of Covenant troopers in that ambush. The fact the Covenant troops had left their rear open, their backs open hadn’t been a surprise considering the Covenant probably remained firm in the belief the UNSC hadn’t been able to penetrate this far into the town. With another careful pass, he'd been able to ascertain what appeared to be demo-charges in that Covenant force's position.

“Tornado-Four-Actual, keep your men ready. Check out your front scopes, or field glasses to confirm what I’m seeing. The Covenant element has left their rears open, and are more focused on taking out First Platoon,” Mark whispered, keeping it quiet though only loud enough for Lieutenant Jenkins to have heard him over the frequency before getting another idea. An odd smell, one he knew of cold grease or more aptly cooking oil from the restaurant’s onion ring-fryer caught his attention and the aging Captain slowly stood to get a better view of the kitchen’s grease traps. To his surprise, the traps had remained largely full from the last time the ovens and grills had been in use. Knowing from his times hiking along with a few even other experiences over the years where he'd nearly been burned by old cooking grease that if he could smell the cooking grease, the substance could still make for a flammable surprise. “Tornado-Four-Actual, I hope you don’t mind a bit of cooking grease. Grab a few of your people, with a few buckets and siphon hoses for the flamethrower tanks. Whomever ran this place didn’t clean out the grease traps regularly, or had been into bulk cooking,”

"Tornado Actual to Alpha Company, remaining platoons form up on the Grizzly, Scorpions and Combat Engineers when the path into the town is cleared. Link up with First Platoon, Fourth Platoon and my position near the rear of the town. The roads surrounding the center of the town have been cleared. Keep your eyes open, and your sights clear. In your advance, cover your rears as the Covenant strength in the town seems on the light side. I wouldn't put it past my counterpart to pull something out of his sleeve, if he has any," Mark ordered, opening a frequency to the rest of the Company waiting at the edge of town. "Tornado Actual to Tornado-One-Actual. Reinforcements are inbound. I've brought Fourth Platoon, and some warthogs to assist. Keep your eyes open, and tell your men to keep down. Fire when you can, but remain cautious. When you see the signal, send the word to your platoon to cover their eyes. The signal will be bright. Repeat; signal will be bright," he said sliding the helmet-mic back.

"Tornado Actual to Firebase Carbide, stand-by to have mortar and artillery fire to be given on my word or at soonest sign of Covenant advance in your sector or the town. Be on alert and have the marines on hand be ready for a defense," Mark said, remembering at the last minute to give orders to Firebase Carbide under command of his Gunnery Sergeant.

Sliding from his position inside the restaurant to allow the marines under Lieutenant Jenkins to empty the grease pits and fill the flamethrowers, Mark crossed the restaurant keeping close to the walls and slipped outside the restaurant‘s main doors facing the direct they‘d come. Sliding his finger onto the trigger of the MA5C, he‘d checked the chambered round before slipping opening a frequency to Sergeant "Drake" Fields after checking to the IFF tags.

“Tornado Actual to Tornado-One-One. Be ready to move. Fourth Platoon’s loading up on some extra fuel for the flamethrowers, and when they’re ready we’ll move out. Tell your men to shield their eyes when we light off the barbecue grill,” he said quietly, after inching up to where the Sergeant stood or crouched.

After having carefully maneuvered across the street to Sergeant Field's position, the aging marine had been equally as careful retracing his steps back across the street to the barbecue restaurant without being spotted by any Covenant lurkers. Climbing into the driver's seat of his own assigned warthog of which had been nearby, Mark opened a frequency to Fourth Platoon. "Tornado Actual to Tornado-Four-Actual, Jenkins, let me know when those tanks are full," He'd carefully retrieved the detached lens from the field-glasses he'd left in the drive-thru window, and had reattached it to the main body of the field-glasses. He'd take the time to explain the plan to Lieutenant Jenkins over the Lieutenant's frequency, where they would use the flamethrowers fueled by the cooking grease to cook the explosive charges the Covenant force had and to burn the Covenant.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Captain Kelvin M. Duncan

1/7, 53rd CE, A Co

Final Approach to town

The engine's roar drowned out the conversation the marines around Kelvin were having. They were closing in on the town, and yet they still hadn't received any word back from Tornado Actual or any Tornado assets. At the rate they were moving, Alpha company would be on the town within five mikes. Currently the they sat at the top of a hill about 2 mikes away from where Tornado Actual's position had been outside the town. Kelvin looked down to the tac pad on his wrist, the marker for their advance telling them to meet up with Alpha company at that position. Yet as he looked, the only UNSC asset sitting there was a Grizzly Battle tank. 

Scrolling through the call-signs for the tank operators in the A-O, he located this tank operator's callsign. Switching his comm unit on Kelvin radioed in "Anvil Actual, Reaper Actual, we're here to clear the road." As they approached the tank, Kelvin could hear the sound of gun fire in the town. "I pray we got here in time." he whispered to himself. His AVLBs rolling past the grizzly a minute after he sent the message over the comms. "Alright let's move, AVLB's stay here with the Grizzly. Howard leave a squad with the AVLBs to protect them, then have the rest of your men bring the dozers up to clear out any debris after the Demo. Lefty grab a couple of men and start getting the demo set up, we need to get this road clear so the Grizzly can move up to assist in the town. Benson and Baldwin secure a perimeter around the demo site, we don't need any unwanted visitors." Duncan climbed out of the AVLB as the men and women of his company scrambled to perform their duties. "Oh Lefty, make it a big boom, but save some of the C-12 for later in case we have another demo op."

Sergeant Maximilian "Drake" Fields
7/1,A Co,1st Platoon,1st Squad
Rode into hell

The charge into the town had been something out of a movie, A company's worth amount of men sitting there with the enemy's back to them. Fields prayed that the Captain would come up with something that would make use of this tactical advantage.1st Lt. Killinger having given him half of 1st platoon to lead, and no one giving him any direction themselves. Drake had decided to move his unit on the other side of the street from the Restaurant the Captain was sitting at. Drake along with his half of 1st platoon, had parked their warthogs in a small alley. A squad was sitting at both entrances to the alley to prevent an ambush from front or rear. "Alright men, we wait here until the Captain gives us orders to move up." 

Ironically after he said this the captain carefully moved across the street and to the alley way they were taking cover in. “Tornado Actual to Tornado-One-One. Be ready to move. Fourth Platoon’s loading up on some extra fuel for the flamethrowers, and when they’re ready we’ll move out. Tell your men to shield their eyes when we light off the barbecue grill,”



Fields gave the captain a thumbs up as he returned to his hog, "Alright men, get back to your hogs and get ready to roll. When we light them up boys, cover your eyes cause it's gonna be bright."


(Set you up there for a big demo Jakob, let's see the fireworks now.) 

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon Killinger
Seventh Marines
Leaving the mobile CP

"They're twenty kilometers away, Major." John said, sliding the CH252 helmet onto his head. He buckled up the chin strap and returned the previously chewed on cigar to his mouth. He lit it, nodded at the Major, before turning around and leaving the air conditioned elephant. He returned to his Warthog, focusing on two different things at once. He pulled up his tactical pad and borrowed the drivers wrist mounted one. On the two devices he brought up Second Battalions situation while doing the same on the wrist mounted one for First Battalion.

My son is out there, John thought for a moment. Take my life instead of his on this day, please, god.

The Veteran Officer listed to reports over the Regiment Command Channel as Battalion Leaders spoke with each other. John didn't like listening to the reports, but he had to keep informed. Lieutenant Colonel's could handle themselves and John was rarely informed of the situation unless he requested a situation report, there was something to report or they needed new orders. Being a Colonel was a lot more administration work than anything really, but there were few front line Colonel's left in the UNSC. Heck, a front line regiment commander had nearly been obsolete for a long while. With the Covenant war, the resurgence of leaders like John had risen, but not significantly so.

John listened into the radio chatter, but not before telling the driver to head towards the town. The man looked over at the Colonel in confusion for a moment - then gunned the LRV in the towns direction.

"Hotel Actual, Eagle Actual. Do you require reinforcements?"

"Negative, Eagle Actual. Second Battalion is in a state where we'd loose more men then not if you were to send reinforcements - besides, we have a line to keep."

"Are you pulling back?"

"I'm thinking about it. Standby for sitrep."

John sighed. The air support was still en route. They'd have to hold on for a moment longer, but the truth in the fact the line was already broken made him uneasy. He knew where the Major was coming from but if Bloody Arrow was called by Carter the Regiment's line was shattered. John would have no choice but to pull his forces back to the town, or another secure area, and launch operations from there. He considered making third battalions position the new regiment HQ but the strategical value of the town, despite being heavily damaged.

"What's the economical status of this moon?" Killinger asked no one in particular, hoping the Corporal in the drivers seat would answer. He didn't, and John knew he wouldn't have. John was wondering this because, from the looks of things, the UNSC Navy just entered naval combat and were already taking heavy losses. To maintain his supplies, he may have to buy them off traders, black markets, stores and stocks. For that, he needed money, and for money to be worth anything the economy on this moon had to be operational still.

Or he could just seize the ammunition with force, or perhaps reasoning. It didn't matter. For now the supplies kept coming in. The troops were getting ammo from the navy ships that kept the front lines fighting. While on the thought process, though, John decided to ask for a casualty report for his Regiment. He had five thousand people under his command, a huge weight on his shoulders, but it was his personality to take the weight so someone else didn't have too. That was who he was, and he'd take full responsibility for the casualties he was about to hear.

"Guardian Actual to Hotel Actual, requesting casualty report."

The Lieutenant Colonel took a moment to reply, "Sir - it's heavy. We're operating at roughly sixty percent capacity. Suspected casualties is around four hundred, but may be higher. I'm still trying to get solid figures in. We're fighting in nearly every street, so the number is climbing."

Damn, Killinger though. It was worse then he suspected. That air support needs to get there quicker, much quicker.

"Solid copy, Hotel Actual. Stay in there, air support is en route." Killinger said, switching the channel to third battalions channel. He listened for a moment, making sure not to disrupt any important calls. A minute passed, then two. He decided then to ask.

"Knight Actual, Guardian Actual. How many KIAs do you have?"

The Lieutenant Colonel was quick to reply. "Not many, sir. This part of the line is quiet for now. Four KIA and a MIA we're currently looking for."

"Missing in action? How did that happen?"

"He fell down a hill, sir, and he's lost in the forest. Radio must have broke because we've got no communication with him... Sir, how is Third Battalion?"

"They're hurting. Find that boy. First Battalion is trying to secure the town we spoke about earlier in mission prep. Guardian Actual out."

John switched channels again.

"Sparrow Actual, this is Guardian Actual. I need an update on your casualties."

"Yessir, standby;" The Battalion CO replied. "We've suffered fifty three casualties, sir."

"Thank you, Colonel. Guardian Actual out."

John let out a sigh. He decided to change things up.

"Eagle Actual, this is Guardian Actual. What is your casualty count?"

"Zero," The Lieutenant Commander replied. "Absolutely nothing, sir. Quiet over here."

Okay.. John thought for a moment. Now how many of them have we killed?

"All Battalion Level Vectors save for first battalion, Guardian Actual. What are your respective battalions kill counts? Report back in five, Guardian Actual out." John said. Hopefully, by some change, the Marines had taken out more of the Covenant then they had Marines.

But that wasn't the case as numbers started coming back.

Four hundred and seventy seven Marines were dead, and one was missing in action. Another fifty ODSTs were killed in action and three missing from their orbital deployment. The Covenant were faring much, much better. Only three hundred expected kills. John didn't need Blakley's report. He had a good idea of the situation already.

[LaxKnight]

CPL Toby 'Mick' McMillian Jr
ODST - 153rd A Company
Rough Landing

CPL 'Mick' McMillian always got butterflies before a drop. What sane man wouldn't? Dropping always reminded him of a ride he went on in a theme park back home. It was called the Tower of Doom. He remembered being scared to go on the ride but with reassurance and goading from his parents they convinced him to go. They strapped themselves in the seats and slowly they lifted into the air, every foot higher they went the more terrified Mick was. When they reached the top they stopped. They sat there for a moment and slowly Mick's fear subsided. This wasn't so bad, even it they were so high up. Then suddenly, when he was comfortable, they dropped. They fell so fast that he forgot to scream. He saw the ground rushing toward them and his first thought was that they were going to crash and turn into a human pancake.


Just as suddenly as it fell, when it seemed like they almost hit the ground it quickly decelerated into a complete stop. He floated in the air for a moment, almost weightless, before landing in his seat and the ride gently placed them on the ground. Mick remembered being so confused on how it happened but in the end, he enjoyed it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The inspirational words of their GySgt fell on deaf ears as he lost himself in nostalgia for a moment before he opened his eyes with reacquired courage. The alien bastards glassed that place along with the rest of his planet and it was time to send them the bill. He waited for his turn then he was shot out of the ship heading to the surface of the moon below them. As they went he played the song Don't Stop Believing by Journey over his Fireteam's coms. It was an ancient song but something of a tradition with his team. On their first drop together PFC Ortiz suggested it. They all survived so it stuck.

Things were going well until they neared the town. Mick could see from the window they sky suddenly lighting up as AA fired upon them. He did his best with what little control he had to maneuver the pod to dodge it. Suddenly another pod smacked against his. His helmet crashed against the screen. The last thing he could remember was seeing the cracked visor as his pod spun out of control.

****

Mick woke up to knocking on his pod. He jumped, looking for his pistol in panic when he realized that he couldn't see anything with his damaged helmet. "CPL Mick! You awake in there senor?" a familiar female voice called. 

It was PFC Angela Ortiz. Having calmed down significantly he replied back, "I'm up. What's going on out there?"

As he waited for her reply he took off his helmet so he can actually see. First thing he noticed was that he was laying on his back. He also noticed that many of the screens are either cracked or show only static. Of course this would happen to him. "We landed in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, senor. Not a alien bastardo in sight. Just you and me," Ortiz reported.

"Stand back!" he said and he punched the door release. After a moment the door blew off. He stood up, reached for his back pocket, and pulled out an ODST NCO cover which he snugly fitted on his head. "What happened to everyone else? Where is the rest of the team?" he asked as he bent back down to set what condition his gear was.

"Team's fine. The rest of them landed with the Gunny. Apparently half the Company is dead from all the AA we took," she said, "They're all holed up somewhere but Gunny wasn't very specific."

"Of course he wasn't," Mick said mostly to himself. Luckily for him his gear suffered very little damage. He hefted his rucksack on his back and pulled out his M6C/SOCOM which he fastened his silencer on before he holstered it. At last he pulled out his pride and joy, his MK-280 General Purpose Light Machine Gun. He racked the charging handle back twice (being a 4 condition gun) then looked out into the open as he looked for where they might be. All he saw were trees and what looked to be a city a few miles away. "How did you find me?" he asked.

"I followed you senor. Someone's gotta see if you're okay. Got hit in the cabeza pretty good. Been knocking on your pod for a good fifteen minutes," the Latina said with a hidden smile.

"For the last time, you don't have to call me senor. I'm not that important," he said as he finished grabbing all his gear out of his pod, "Mick is fine."

He hopped out of the pod and then looked to his teammate. Clad in UA version of ODST gear, PFC Angela Ortiz had red trim for her armor and wore hearts on her shoulder pads and chestplate. "What's the plan now, Mick?" she asked with some sass.

"I don't got a com so your my ears," he said, "And as ODSTs we run to the sounds of chaos. So if we hear gunfire, that's probably where they'd be."

He listened for a moment and sure enough he heard the faint sounds of battle in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the town. "Let's go," he said as he began their trek toward the frontlines.

[Wax™]

Jenkins / Bowers / Mendoza 

Tornado Four Marines 

Fighting the good fight

"Liutenant... Sorelson has stopped his warthogs." The driver said quickly pointing at a computer screen in the center of the two men, which had a live camera feed from the lead APC. Jenkins nodded and pulled out his helmet mic, opening a channel within the Platoon and the Drivers. "Pull up beside Sorelson's hogs and unload... Marines use the vehicles as cover and keep a look out. Second squad is to accompany me into the building." Jenkins said, moving his arm down to grasp his MA37 and then quickly open his door and lunge out of the APC once it came to a halt and then make his way into the building which Sorelson was in.

Mendoza's ears perked up, theoretically. As he heard that second squad was to move out with the Lieutenant, dismounting from his APC's M41 he grasped his MA37 and followed the Lieutenant into the resturant where they spread out and covered each window just in case they were to come under enemy fire from the Covenant. Mendoza listened however as his group or the Platoon in general were receiving orders to fill up some flame thrower tanks. Did we even have those? Mendoza thought to himself, but apparently they did when four or so marines had left and then returned with a bunch of tanks in hand and began to siphon the cooking oil into the tanks.

"Siphoning the oil now Lieutenant." Mendoza said as he stepped over to Jenkins who was just standing in the middle of the restaurant inspecting all the other marines.

"Thank you Mendoza." Jenkins said to the man. He knew the man's entire name and code off by heart. He should anyway, he hand picked the young force recon veteran to be in his Platoon. Along with his Platoon Sergeant, Bowers.

"So I hear you have aspirations to become a Corporal after this mission?" Jenkins said, turning to look at Mendoza who was about the same height as himself.

"Sir?" Mendoza replied shakily.

"Don't worry... We all long for a promotion after every mission." Jenkins said, looking back towards the progress of the filling of the fuel tanks.

"Prove your self to me further and I'll see if I can help you out there." Jenkins said once more, turning back to look at Mendoza with a small smile.

"Tanks full Lieutenant." One of the marines who had done the filling spoke.

"Organize those men Mendoza... Rear APC." Jenkins said before making his way out of the restaurant and to Sorelson's warthog, which the man was now currently sitting in drivers seat. "Tanks full Captain, will be loaded into the rear APC in thirty." He said, waiting momentarily just in case the man were to say anything else before walking off, over to his APC and mounting the passenger side seat. Mendoza in the mean time, took in a breath and made his way over to the Privates and a Corporal who were filling the tanks.

"Alright you lot... Get those tanks mounted into the rear APC and then mount up." Mendoza said before stepping forward and taking one of the tanks into his arms. He'd lift the heavy cylindrical like tube before making out of the resturant and for the rear most APC. 'Fuck these are heavier than I though'. Mendoza thought to himself. Though he got the tanks in. And once everything was buttoned up he made his way back to his APC. Where another Private had already taken his position on the M41. If possible. He'd go to take a seat next to Elms. If she was still even in the APC.

"Tanks buttoned up and loaded Captain." Jenkins said through a COMM's channel as he watched each of his Marines mount their designated APC's again.

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company: In the Town: En-Route to First Platoon‘s position assisting Fourth Platoon: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Tanks full, Captain, will be loaded into the rear APC in thirty,” he heard 1st Lieutenant Jenkins report after the marine had approached his own warthog.

“Appreciated, Lieutenant,” Mark said, with a small smile. The beginnings of the plan had started to come together without a problem, but whether the plan played out had been another uncertain matter.

“Tanks buttoned and loaded, Captain,” he heard Jenkins report again over the direct frequency.

“If anyone wants A1 steak sauce,…you should have made a to-go order,” Spade said before turning the ignition to the warthog’s engine and allowed it to idle softly for a few moments. “Tornado Actual to all vehicles. Rev your engines. Rocket hogs and Gauss hog hold back a few moments. You're going to take up the six of the convoy. Protect the rear of the convoy, and keep an eye out. We’re going to have a small window for this to happen. Flamethrower operators, warm the barrels and let the tanks warm but let a few seconds pass before you give our Covenant friends an invite to the barbecue. I want those charges of theirs to be cooked. When those charges finally detonate, keep up the fire for a few seconds before letting go. I want the Covenant to be cooked by their own devices. Go,” he said into the helmet-mic on a Platoon secure frequency to all the vehicles present around him. Opening the throttle and pressing down the gas pedal, the warthog he’d sat in with Sergeant Ramirez at the handles of the M41 triple-barreled gun swung around the corner of the building onto the street leading to the ambush surrounding First Platoon and elements of the One-Fifty-Third. The convoy of mixed APCs and warthogs had to close within eighty meters of the Covenant force without drawing too much attention in order for the flamethrowers to have a maximum effect, and then to pull away from the Covenant while the demo charges exploded along with any grenades the aliens had.

Easing the warthog up to a higher speed, Mark kept control of the utilitarian vehicle while Sergeant Ramirez swung the M41 around to cover the APCs from any Covenant snipers or scouts. The Captain’s warthog’s tires gripped the road surface as it quickly gained speed bridging the gap between the Covenant ambush of First Platoon and the vehicles of Fourth Platoon. The M41 opened fire in controlled bursts forcing some of the Covenant near the back of the Covenant lines to move for cover, and Mark made sure to keep the APCs protected while they did their gruesome work.

[Jakob]

Gunnery Sergeant Louie 'Lefty' Leftkowitz
Getting excited

"Engineers will get it done, out," Lefty told the captain, turning off his mic. He turned to the various Marines around him and unstrapped his rifle before sliding off the side of the Aardvark. The engineers around him slid off as well and he quickly began naming people,

"Alfarsi, Django, Tango, Pagan, grab your fuckin' dicks we're hauling ass! The rest of you sorry shits, cover us as we make a firework show. Shoot 'em as they come! And get them barriers deployed, sounds like we're going to defend this shithole in a few!" the Marines complied immediately, some joking as they went to the back of the cargo trucks and pulled out the metal roadblocks the Corps had issued them.

Lefty and the rest moved towards the pile of concrete blocking the road. A rather large building, by this towns standards at least, had collapsed straight into the road from a rather nice shot from the Vulture. The pile of concrete and stone sat nearly ten feet high now and was steep enough that it'd be a difficult climb for most of the Marines, god knew had long it'd take a Warthog to toe up it.

It was a standard job up until a plasma cannon in the bank opened up on their position and the Marines immediately scrambled for cover. The vehicle behind him groaned as its metal buckled from the heat and Lefty threw himself to the ground before scrambling towards an old car for cover. He heard someone scream behind him and when he turned around, still hiding behind cover, he saw Pagan on the ground in the middle of the street. He had the odd hat he loved to wear that wrapped down into the shape of a beard under his chin, and smoke slowly drifted from his gut.

"Shit, Pagan's hit!" someone screamed from down the road, Lefty shouted the man's name,

"Pagan you shithead, wake the fuck up!" he yelled. Grabbing a rock from the ground, he chucked it and watched it bounce off the man's helmet. The Marine didn't move an inch and he cursed, clicking on his radio, "I got a man down. Pagan's fucking hit, looks dead to me. Tastey, pick up your fucking rifle and come help me!" he screamed, directing the last comment to a woman down the line, ducking behind a Warthog.

A bolt of plasma hit the other side of his cover and Lefty ducked down further, watching as the three other Marines scrambled towards roadblock. They looked back at Lefty expectantly and he cursed as he realized he actually had responsibilities he had to account for. The Marines had opened up on the nest now, and Lefty hoped it'd be good enough covering fire.

He ran straight from cover and to the hundred or so feet down the road where the rubble sat. At first he seemed fine, then his heart dropped as the first blue bolt splashed down at his feet. It took everything he could not to stop in his tracks and he shouted some odd war cry (or a girly shout, he wasn't sure) as the plasma cannon attempted to track him and his feet burned from the plasma splashing all around him.

The barricade came up in front of him with the Marines watching wide eyed and Lefty fell to his thighs, doing a baseball slide across the ground and straight into the pile of rocks. He grunted in pain as he slammed into the concrete and rocks rolled down and hit his face as he ducked down further. The plasma bolts now splashed into the top of the barricade and sparks and rocks tumbled down to meet him constantly.

"Stop staring, I know I'm fucking beautiful, get your pickaxes and get me a hole for the C-12!" the Marines all complied and got the sharp pointed weapons. They found a good spot after a bit of arguing and begin slamming the tools into the barricade, digging out an ever large hole for the C-12 to go. If they just dropped the explosives on the front of the rubble, like most amateurs would do, it'd just leave the front half of the rubble sitting there and it'd throw back blast for a quarter of a mile to either side.

This way, they could make it all nice and contained. It also made a boom more upwards, which was better to look at. So while the other Marines worked away at the hole, Lefty got a stick of C-12 from his pack and began counting it out.

He only needed half a quarter pound of the stuff to do the job, but he added another half quarter to be sure. That'd be all well and good, but he also wanted a bit of a show and to knock the bank off its axis from the vibration so he added another half pound on top of that. And then, since it was Lefty, he said fuck it and added yet another half pound. His measurement having been decided, he took out his knife and cut off a nice piece of the block, stuffing the rest in his pack.

Lefty scurried over to the hole the Marines had made and shaped the malleable substance with his hands, shaping it so that it'd go up and a bit to the northeast. He stuffed a detonator into the explosives and stuffed it into the hole before turning to the rest of the engineers. He took out the blasting cap and set a timer for when he reached some good cover at thirty seconds. To do this he'd have to take off the safety however, a rather poor design decision, and he flicked off the safety with a rather reluctant sigh. 'Just haul your ass and then click the button' he thought to himself.

This was until some Grunt shit had a good idea for once and had flanked over a bit to get a better angle. Lefty gasped and scrambled away and sighed in relief as he realized he wasn't dead. Then he realized something.

He had accidentally hit the button.

"Ah, SHIT! Run, you fucking bunch of idiots!" he screamed into an open radio to every unit in a half mile to either side, hoping they'd all get the message. The engineers looked at each other in fear and began sprinting away, the Warthogs and other vehicles being quickly manned and backed out of the blast radius as every Man on the street panicked and ran behind something. Lefty hadn't ran so hard in his life, and he found himself diving straight through one of the few remaining windows on the street rather dramatically.

Two engineers followed close behind, not opting to do a straight up dive as Lefty had and opting for a bit more dignity. Lefty found himself tumbling as he went straight down some stairs to a lower part of the floor, a dining area, and crashed through a table. The Marines fell behind a counter near him.

Then everything shook.

Every single one of the few remaining lights, running on some sort of background generator, shattered from the pure seismic force. Lefty couldn't hear a thing after a second as his eardrums went to the breaking point, and the vision was darkened as the plume of smoke and fire temporarily blocked the sun. Bits of rubble came down around him as the already fragile building was shook down to its very foundation, and any window left untroubled by the fighting was immediately decimated.

After a few minutes, Lefty found himself in a fetal positing behind the counter, in a pile of what was once a nice dining table with bits of glass sticking into his fatigues from where he dove. As he realized he wasn't dead, he slid up onto his haunches and gasped as the adrenaline began leaving his system, almost certain that he'd pissed himself at some point. Or the blood from some of the glass was trickling down his leg, he wasn't sure. (maybe both?)

One of the Marines picked Lefty up and he pushed the man away, not hearing a single thing the man said as a loud pinging noise filled his ears. He stumbled out into the street, trying to shake away the daze to see the pile of rubble completely gone, as well as a nice chunk of the ground, and rubble littering the streets as the bank had collapsed in the opposite direction. Everything was coated in a layer of dust from the collapse, and all the Marines around him were grey from the collapse.

"Well shit, a bit less C-12" he said into his mic, not hearing himself speak.

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle Killinger
1/7, A Co,. 1PLT
Falling back!

"God damn it, Benson! Get off the fucking turret, the 'hog is stuck anyways!" Kyle shouted over the whine of plasma. The Lance Corporal disembarked, rolled as he hit the ground and crouched low behind the warthog. Kyle's platoon, after the massive explosion blinded most of them, suffered extensive casualties as the gunners on most of the Warthogs were killed in the ensuing incoming fire. Yeah, grunts may hide while the ground is shaking but elites don't.

Kyle had collected his dead. Out of the thirty men he took to man the fifteen Warthogs he brought with him, seventeen of them were casualties. The 153rd ODSTs also hadn't started retreating, but Kyle wasn't stupid. He tried to relieve the pressure, and now he was combat ineffective. He had no choice but to pull his team back.

His platoon still had Warthogs, however. One of the 'hogs, originally a Gauss 'hog, was converted into a mobile casualty collection point. Bodies were laying in the gunners position, being tied down by rope and other materials the Marines could find. Out of the fifteen warthogs that had made the journey there, only six of them were still operable. While only four were completely destroyed, the others had melted tires, melted wheels and other similar damages.

"Sir," Staff Sergeant McKeal said. "We need to move, now. We're sitting ducks in this alley. Go right, go left, just get us out of here... sir."

"I'm working on that," Kyle replied. He absolutely refused to call his dad, but this was a time where he needed an airstrike on his location or they were going to be overwhelmed. That, or first battalion needed to hurry their asses up and relieve the pressure on Kyle's platoon and the 153rd ODSTs.

"Mount up in the Warthogs. I want people clinging to the side if we have too." Kyle said. His Staff Sergeant broke away and barked out some commands. The remaining Sergeant shuffled away and begun to command his Corporals, who then commanded their fireteams.

With the casualties, only thirteen Marines were alive. Kyle knew that the Warthogs were designed to only hold three people, but that was for bulky armor of the SPARTANs. Marines were much more smaller and could easily cram into a single warthog.

"Tornado Actual, this is Tornado One Actual. Our objective to relieve the pressure so the 153rd ODSTs can retreat has failed and we are pulling back from the engagement. Break. Seventeen casualties, no wounded. Material losses: Four warthogs destroyed and all but six damaged. Tornado One Actual out." Kyle said, mounting the Warthog with the casualties. He was in the gunners position, making sure none of the bodies fell out.

"Let's get back to the Battalion CP," Kyle said to the driver. The rest of the warthogs were behind this one. The driver lightly pressed on the accelerator, took a left out of the alley and proceeded to weave into alleys and eventually out onto the road leading towards the Battalion CP they had taken to get there. They stopped at the destroyed Warthogs when they came in. The mortar strike had softened this position, and Kyle had collected the dog tags of the dead before moving on.

[Wax™]

Jenkins / Bowers / Mendoza  

Tornado Four Marines  

Fighting the good fight 

“If anyone wants A1 steak sauce,…you should have made a to-go order,” Spade said before turning the ignition to the warthog’s engine and allowed it to idle softly for a few moments. “Tornado Actual to all vehicles. Rev your engines. Rocket hogs and Gauss hog hold back a few moments. You're going to take up the six of the convoy. Protect the rear of the convoy, and keep an eye out. We’re going to have a small window for this to happen. Flamethrower operators, warm the barrels and let the tanks warm but let a few seconds pass before you give our Covenant friends an invite to the barbecue. I want those charges of theirs to be cooked. When those charges finally detonate, keep up the fire for a few seconds before letting go. I want the Covenant to be cooked by their own devices. Go.”
Jenkins heard the Captain speak over the COMM's to the mix of vehicles around. quickly after the Captains ceased transmissions Jenkins spoke over the same frequency to the men manning the flame throwers in his rear APC.

"You heard the man guys... Warm those flame throwers up and get ready to light up the Covenant positions... Everyone else shift to the left side of the APC's and stick your weapons out the gun ports if you can, M41 operators swing left and prepare to engage." Jenkins said before turning his head and looking through his APC's side mirror to the Captain in his own Warthog, once the Captain started his Warthog and was ready to move off, Jenkins spoke over the Platoon wide COMM's once more. "Alright go! Let's move and engage!" Jenkins said before dropping his hand down on the dash of his APC and gesturing the driver to gun it.

Jenkins' APC and the rest took off at half speed and turned the corner out into the fight hard, driving between the stretch of land that separated the Covenant from the 153rd and the retreating First Platoon all the M41 gunners on the APC's opened fire along with those marines who could find a gun-hole to stick their barrel through on the left and side. At the same time each of the men manning a flame throwing in the rear most APC squeezed the trigger and a long spurt of oil was sent shooting out of the APC which was quickly engulfed in flames. The oil and flames barreling out onto any Covenant soldiers who were in the kill range and the covenant explosives set up.

Mendoza sat holding onto his MA37 and one of the APC's hand holds for dear life as the large covered vehicle spun around the corner and begun to engage the Covenant positions. Mendoza looked over to Elm's momentarily before his eye's and ears caught the sight and sound of the M41 operator getting hit direct in the face by a needler round, luckily the mans head exploded before he fell into the actual troop bay, instead a lifeless and headless body fell down between the soldiers. Mendoza took initiative and launched himself up into the gunner position. Poking his head out he grabbed the hand holds to the M41 and begun firing at any Covenant positions he could set his eye on. Momentarily spinning his head to look at the two rear APC's he saw the fourth APC down the line spitting out fire like it was cool. While the APC closest to Mendoza's was being lit up my Covenant fire.

Four or five of the marines who were in the third APC down the line were caught by a barrage of Covenant fire through the gun-holes along with the APC's M41 gunner. Swiveling his own gun around Mendoza begun to fire on the position in which he thought he saw the Covenant fire coming from.

"Alright, pull back! Pull back to the 153rd and give them some cover an support." Jenkins said over the Platoon wide COMM's even to Captain Sorelson before directing his driver right and toward the ODST position. Within seconds each of the other APC's followed suit and began driving toward the ODST's position.

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger

Random ODST Company

Currently lost and MIA

Travis jogged at a steady pace through the forest terrain that varied heavily in density just a couple of miles from his original drop destination. Travis and whoever was fast enough had to make an emergency drop from high orbit when his ship the USNCS Kong was destroyed by the CSO Super Carrier when maneuvering to shoot out it's ODST's. Travis stopped and took a moment to catch his breath, lifting his foot to rest it atop a fallen tree and press his elbow onto his knee and lean his weight into his arm and leg, he had been jogging at this pace for the last five or so miles, surely he had to have been getting close.

Travis begun to start running again when the ground shook only slightly under his feet and he heard a huge barreling explosion roll out through the trees just east of his position.

"That can't be far." Travis said to himself quickening his pace into a light sprint in the direction in which he heard the explosion soon enough Travis found himself at the edge of the forest he was dropped into an at the outskirts of the town he was supposed to have dropped in. From here he could hear the distant sound of gun's firing from both the UNSC and the Covenant with a lighter explosion here and there. Just above the town Travis could see a gigantic smoke cloud which nearly blocked out the sun from his position. That must have been where the explosion originated from. Taking a knee and stopping behind a large rock Travis opened up his COMM's and attempted to contact anyone who was listening.

"First Lieutenant Travis Killinger to anyone who can hear me on this frequency... Assumed sole survivor of UNSCS Kong I am currently located on the East side of town five or so minutes from 153rd drop location... Does anybody read, over?" Travis said, swinging his arm around to grab his BR55 and make sure it was loaded before pulling back on the cocking mechanism to defend his position if any Covenant came around. It would be considered suicidal to move alone in this situation.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Seventh Marines
Fuck Colonel, I'm a dad first...

"Alpha Companies Captain is just up the road. It seems like they've already begun to push into the town, sir." The Warthog driver said. John nodded, thanked the man and disembarked from the vehicle. Almost immediately, his eyepiece pulsed red. John had set up, in lack of better words, a notification system for anything to do with his children. He had just learned that his son, Travis, was one of few survivors from the now destroyed Paris Class Frigate dubbed 'UNSCS Kong'.

John found himself walking forward, holding his breath and failing to keep tears rolling into his stature. He wiped his face away, but didn't breath. He waited, and waited... and waited until anything from his son came up. Travis was fortunate enough that, while the UNSCS Kong was being destroyed around him, he was able to get into his pod and escape the exploding ship.

John's fists started turning white, and his face red as he held his breath. Nothing yet, but his pod had launched. He knew his son, so he looked up into the sky. Sure enough, Travis' pod came hurtling towards the surface and crashed somewhere into the forests surrounding the town. John exhaled sharply before inhaling, relieved to know that the pod hit the ground. There were no words to describe how worried he still was, and the thought of abandoning his post came across his mind.

John was about to radio his son, but was interrupted by a rather rude explosion in the town. It was the combat engineers doing their job, thankfully, but now he had his own job to do. His son needed to be found and damn it, if it wasn't going to be John who was it going to be? He was the only person not in combat... Yes he thought for a moment. My batt-

"Tornado Actual, this is Tornado One Actual. Our objective to relieve the pressure so the 153rd ODSTs can retreat has failed and we are pulling back from the engagement. Break. Seventeen casualties, no wounded. Material losses: Four warthogs destroyed and all but six damaged. Tornado One Actual out." Came another transmission. It was his son, Kyle, this time. John nearly collapsed to the ground but couldn't suppress the tears now. As emotions flooded through his body, he thought of the last time he saw his two sons.

The Colonel collected himself, wiped away the running tears so fresh ones could replace the spot. Finally, he collapsed into his knee and rolled the ground so he was sitting. His left knee pointing towards the sky. John hid his head into his palm and silently said a prayer for his kids. He knew what he was getting into when he requested that they served under him.

Kyle, Travis and Jennifer. High Command was almost about to say no when they thought about the morale boost it could provide, not to mention the propaganda opportunity, to have a family 'fighting for humanity'. With that in mind, Killinger was granted the request and was allowed to be the commanding officer of his kids. Obviously, there was a line between parent and child that worried them.

Regardless, John sighed in tremendous relief as his sons voice filled his ear. "First Lieutenant Travis Killinger to anyone who can hear me on this frequency... Assumed sole survivor of UNSCS Kong I am currently located on the East side of town five or so minutes from 153rd drop location... Does anybody read, over?"

John was quick to reply, "Oh thank god, son. Your voice is the best god damned thing I've heard. Where are you? What is your location? Are you okay? Are you alone?" John said, fear and worry laced in tone.

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company: In the Town: Providing cover for First Platoon while assisting Fourth Platoon: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Tornado Actual, this is Tornado One Actual. Our objective to relieve the pressure so the 153rd ODSTs can retreat failed and we are pulling back from the engagement. Break. Seventeen casualties, no wounded. Material losses: Four warthogs destroyed and all but six damaged. Tornado One Actual out,” he heard Lieutenant Killinger’s voice, Tornado One Actual’s voice directed over his own personal frequency and the helmet-mic.

“Tornado Actual to Tornado One Actual. Transmission received, and acknowledged. Get your people out of there, and back to the lines. Maneuver your warthogs, your surviving warthogs in the shadows of the APCs. Use the APCs as a shield. Fourth Platoon, and my own warthogs will provide cover for your platoon and the One-Five-Three ODSTs,” Mark began and thought for a moment before speaking again to the young Lieutenant.

“Lieutenant,…Kyle, you did your best. Get your people out of there, and stick with us. We’ll make sure you get back to the lines. You did well, Son, and your entire platoon did as well. Keep in the shadows of the APCs, and use them as shields. If we make a left turn, keep to the inside. When the convoy makes a right turn, keep to the interior. Spade; out,” he said, knowing that Kyle would have been beating himself up for leading his men into an ambush and for losing many of his men. He'd opened a private frequency directed at Kyle, and knew a direct line hadn't had the risk of being overheard. He'd resorted to using his nickname, a nickname aptly granted decades ago more as a personal touch to let Kyle know his actions hadn't gone unnoticed, and that while Battlion HQ might not be sympathetic that there was someone in the Company Staff that had been. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the aging Captain opened the frequency to Fourth Platoon and to Lieutenant Jenkins.

“Tornado Actual to Tornado Four Actual. Tornado Actual to everyone. Prepare to roll once First Platoon’s in position. You can pat yourselves on the back later. We have to get back through the grinder, but you’re marines. You’ve come to the aid of your brothers and sisters of the Corps. I don’t care if there were any wet-behind-the-ears fresh from boot in the ranks when you landed, as we’re all hardened veterans now. There’s no more fresh meat for the grinder. We’re all veterans. Let’s get First Platoon back to our lines, and let‘s hold this piece of real-estate until our armor can roll in. The Five-Three Combat Engineers did their job, and cleared the path for our armor. Tend to those whom were wounded, and new marines take their spots behind those hatches. Keep your eyes open, and your sights clear. Tornado Actual; out,”

Looking briefly over to his right when to reply to a question from the Lance Corporal in the passenger seat, something about the shadow being cast across the center console drew the aging Captain’s eyes and the native born of Seattle realized the shadow’s profile had been far larger than it should have been. Looking up at the windshield of the warthog the moment he’d heard or rather felt something heavy land on the hood of the utilitarian vehicle, Mark came face to face or rather face to methane muzzle of a rather burly and bulky grunt that happened to be as a result both singed and ticked off. The grunt’s methane tank had largely remained intact albeit with its formerly polished steel or the alien equivalent being singed from the previous conflagration that had resulted when the Covenant’s demolition charges had detonated prematurely from the onslaught.

Quickly jerking his body to the left, he’d barely missed the grunt’s fist as it slammed through the aluminum of the windshield. The aluminum in the path of the grunt’s balled fist shattered, giving way under the burly grunt’s aggression and the moment the aluminum had shattered the grunt gripped Mark’s right shoulder with enough force to break it or to pull the marine onto the hood of the warthog.

Gripping the M6B chrome-plated magnum with his right hand only moments before the grunt had applied a vice-like grip to his shoulder, the fingers on Mark’s right hand jerked away from the grip of the magnum. Knowing the squat canine-like alien had enough strength to tear his shoulder from its socket, Spade knew his chance at defending himself had passed. The grunt applied more force, and while Mark could allowed himself to be pulled back through the windshield the marine had dug his feet in beneath the warthog’s dashboard to anchor him inside the vehicle. The two, the alien and the marine stared each other in the eyes with determination and an unflinching sense if either blinked they’d be dead until three rapid blasts from an MA5C rifle tore through the grunt’s head leaving a gaping hole. The grunt’s grasp on Mark’s shoulder lessened before the alien’s body slumped over to crumple on the ground at the base of the warthog, and the aging Captain looked over to find the Lance Corporal that had been his designated driver held a still-smoking MA5C rifle.

“Nice timing, Corporal,” Mark said, complimenting the young marine before rolling the shoulder to see it hadn’t been broken. Opening the throttle, he’d turn wheel around forcing the Warthog to take a turn down a nearby alley that opened onto the same main thoroughfare they’d used to strike the Covenant demo team from behind.

“I only polished that windshield yesterday,” the Lance Corporal said taking in the damaged to the windshield.

“If that’s the least of your worries, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Mark replied before turning the wheel to head back towards the rest of Alpha Company and the Fifty-Third Combat Engineers or at least to be within site of them while reinforcements rolled into the town to secure it or at least parts of it.

“First Lieutenant Travis Killinger to anyone who can hear me on this frequency…Assumed sole survivor of UNSCS Kong. I am currently located on the East side of town five or so minutes from 153rd drop location…Does anybody read, over?” blared a transmission from another Killinger, another First Lieutenant Killinger.

“Tornado Actual to Lieutenant Killinger. Be advised. One-Five-Three has been retrieved, and according your tag we’re not far from your part of the neighborhood. Be advised. I have a convoy of APCs of Fourth Platoon, survivors of First Platoon and the One-Five-Three aboard led by warthogs. If you want, we’ll swing by, and you can find a seat. Contact on this same frequency, if you are able to receive. Tornado Actual; out,” Mark replied over the ODST’s same frequency before checking his HUD to find where the Lieutenant’s IFF tag was. Turning the wheel again, he’d head down some other streets towards the fortunate Lieutenant’s location and hoped the rest of the convoy followed.

[Wax™]

((I won't be posting as any of my regular marines in this post but Cabel and anyone else involved with; Jenkins, Mendoza or Bowers can assume that my APC's are currently with Cabel's convoy en;route to where ever he goes.))

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger 

Random ODST Company 

No longer MIA

"Oh thank god, son. Your voice is the best god damned thing I've heard. Where are you? What is your location? Are you okay? Are you alone?"
Travis heard over a two-way private frequency between himself and the sender who was coincidentally Travis' father.

"Dad... It's good to hear your voice too... Calm down... You asked where I was twice." Travis said letting out a soft audible laugh. "Alzheimer's getting you early eh old man?" He continued on trying to make light of the conversation, it was clear Travis' dad was worried so attempting to lighten the mood surely wasn't a bad thing, either way Travis spoke quickly after relaying his status and position. "I'm somewhere East of this town, RIGHT on the outskirt and don't worry I'm fine, and it's just me out here..." Travis said, he was about to speak again when another voice came through his helmet on a different frequency, UNSC of course.

“Tornado Actual to Lieutenant Killinger. Be advised. One-Five-Three has been retrieved, and according to your tag we’re not far from your part of the neighborhood. Be advised. I have a convoy of APCs of Fourth Platoon, survivors of First Platoon and the One-Five-Three aboard led by warthogs. If you want, we’ll swing by, and you can find a seat. Contact on this same frequency, if you are able to receive. Tornado Actual; out.”
Travis heard the second voice speak. Over his HUD the voice was tagged as a Captain Sorelson one of the Captains in First Battalion, Seventh Marines. Travis opened up the channel between him and synced his father's frequency with that of Sorelson's so all three men could hear one another.

"Lieutenant Killinger to Captain Sorelson, I read you five by five. If you could swing around and pick me up and take me to the Colonel's position that would be mighty convenient; over." Travis said bending down onto his knees and resting his left side against the rock he was hiding behind. Pulling his BR55 around and hugging it to his chest he canted his head to the side as he heard an un-natural whirling noise. Poking his head slightly out of cover he noticed four or so Covenant Ghosts coming his way up the outskirt ducking behind cover again he'd wait until they pass before speaking over the COMM's channel again. "Stay alert, possible Covenant patrols around the outskirts; over."

Now all Travis had to do was sit tight, hold his position and wait for a ride.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Seventh Marines
... Oh my kids are smart asses.

"Dad... It's good to hear your voice too... Calm down... You asked where I was twice... Alzheimer's getting you early eh old man?" John's son replied. The veteran marine let out a soft chuckle and laughed to himself as the channel went quiet. Oh, you're definitely my son John though. Smart ass. John located his other sons tag, Kyle's tag, and send him a burst transmission.

>> Kyle, your brother landed. See if you can pick him up <<

John waited a moment for his reply.

>> On it. <<

With that, and a massive wave of relieve rolling over his mentality, John stood up and begun walking towards Sorelson's location. Coincidentally, however, a massive tank was sitting right there. The M850 Grizzly Main Battle Tank was starting up. The tanks operator had an IFF of '1LT. PAIN', so John would just get a ride in on the armor instead of walking. Good time as any to be lazy, the marine though. Might as well!

"Travis, your brother will be picking up up. Stay down and safe." John said into his radio.

First Lieutenant Kyle Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1PLT
Picking up his brother

Kyle nodded as the Captain's reply finished. At least he thought positively.

Kyle sighed as the burst transmission from his father rolled across his retina, but perked up as soon as Travis's name appeared in the transmission. Kyle ushered back a quick, generic reply to his father and informed the driver to take the next left. Using that road, they should be able to find his brother.

"Where are we going, sir?" McKeal asked politely.

"My brother landed around here somewhere. We're going to pick him up."

Kyle heard McKeal playfully scream from his warthog. "Awww hell nawh! There's more of you! Oh, please. Saint Barbara, save us all! I can barely handle the one, let alone three. His fathers a smart ass, Kyle's a smart ass and that only means - or I've lost my sanity - his brother will be one too!"

"We'll take it easy on you, McKeal!" Kyle yelled back.

"Oh, oh great!. I want to get rid of you, not adopt another one!" McKeal replied.

"Ah, Staff Sergeant. You know ya' love me." Kyle said, this time using the radio.

"Define 'love', sir." The Staff Sergeant replied.

"You kiss my ass enough, I think that defines it perfectly." Kyle said, chuckling.

"Oorah!" Kyle's driver said.

"Who said that!" McKeal screamed. Kyle laughed, and nodded at his driver.

"Half the surviving platoon, Staff Sergeant."

After about two minutes of driving Kyle could see the IFF tag of his brothers appear on the screen. The small convoy slowed and stopped near his rock. Kyle stood up and jumped off the Warthog. "That's a nice boulder, brother!"

"OH GOD! NO! I thought he was joking!" McKeal said in playful agony over the platoon frequency. Kyle had added his brother to the frequency now, so he likely heard the Staff Sergeants playful retort. Kyle chuckled, "Pucker up, McKeal. You're going to have to kiss two Killinger asses."

McKeal groaned in reply, cut the channel, and screamed: "FAK YA'LL! Cept for Benny. Benny still alive?"

"No." Another Marine replied, then the convoy went quiet. The casualties, for a moment, were pushed into the back of the Marines minds as a friendly back and forth took place, but there were there fresh again. The moment, ruined, and Kyle heard the Staff Sergeant mutter a farewell on the platoon frequency.

"Well Travis. You going to make love to the rock or get in the Warthogs?"

[Wax™]

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger  

Random ODST Company  

Family reunion

"That's a nice boulder, brother!" Travis heard the familiar tone of his younger brother followed by.

"OH GOD! NO! I thought he was joking!" Travis heard randomly over his helmet speakers as he was added into his brothers Platoon's frequency. "Pucker up, McKeal. You're going to have to kiss two Killinger asses."
His brother said before the channel went quiet momentarily.

"McKeal? What is he irish? Top of teh morning to ye?" Travis said before standing up with his BR55 in hand, he looked over to his brother and smirked though it probably wasn't visible as the glass that formed his helmet's HUD was tinted. The convoy went quiet for a moment after one of the marines yelled for another to find out he was dead. Kyle's Platoon had taken some heavy losses but to Travis' surprise there were still a decent amount of marines left alive. It was better than nothing, for all Travis knew his entire Platoon was eviscerated when the UNSCS Kong was blown out of space. 

"Well Travis. You going to make love to the rock or get in the Warthogs?"
Travis heard Kyle say before it went quiet again, quiet other than the sound of idling Warthog engines and the light chatter of marines.

"Hey..." Travis said, un-tinting his visor and giving his brother a very serious look. "...It's a nice boulder ok." He said before turning around and stroking the huge rock in a seductive manner. "Later baby." He said in a hissy tone over the Platoon COMM's he was added to before he'd step over to his brothers warthog and climb on just behind the passengers seat where his brother was seated. Once Travis was in a comfortable position behind Kyle where he was sure he wouldn't fall off the back, he'd lift his hands and unseal his helmet from his body suit before pulling it off and placing it in the back tray next to him.

"So where we heading bro?" Travis said before going on. "Isn't Rhino's in the other direction?" He'd say once the Warthogs take off, a sly inside joke between Kyle and Travis about Travis' favorite gentleman's club back home. Travis would smirk to himself before lifting his BR55 to cover behind the Warthogs if they were to come under fire.

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle J'Bethu Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1PLT
Bye bye... Rock!

"Oh, yeah. I remember that place!" Kyle said into the private line between him and his brother, grinning from ear to ear - Travis took him there when he turned eighteen for his birthday. "Wasn't that the place you got stuck on the dancers pole because she handcuffed you? I swore I can remember her name.. Christina Bell? Something like that. You were locked up there for what, two hours before you realized you were handcuffed?"

Kyle grinned and smacked the shin armor on his brothers leg.

"Hey," Kyle said in a more serious tone. "Did you hear Adrianna got prego? She left the New Alexandria Naval Academy way before she was scheduled to be released. I think she's done, given up on the UNSC and this fight." Kyle added, pulling out a picture. It was a war bond. Dad, Travis and himself in the middle of it. Two longswords flying over, while Travis was on the left side and he was on the right. 'Dad' was in the center. In bold text letters resembling designs a hundred years ago read 'The Killingers are fighting for humanity! Are you? Join the Marines now!'

Jennifer wasn't in the picture this time as she was deployed when it was taken, and neither was Adrianna. Joining the Military had become something of a tradition for the family, but at this point and time it was either volunteer to fight or get drafted into service. Kyle chose to volunteer, as did all of his siblings. Jennifer was the only one too go down the enlisted route, and last Kyle heard she was NJP'd for something. He didn't know the specifics, but 'dad' had mentioned it at the UNSC Barbecue a while back.

Kyle imagined what the poster would look like with Jennifer and Adrianna. He crumbled it up when the thought of 'dad' entered his mind. He tossed it off the side of the Warthog, the piece of paper getting crumpled up in mud as the following 'Hog ran over it.

[Wax™]

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger   

Attached 1/7, A Co., 1PLT 

Returning to Battalion CP?

"Oh, yeah. I remember that place!" His brother spoke between a private line between the two, before continuing on. "Wasn't that the place you got stuck on the dancers pole because she handcuffed you? I swore I can remember her name.. Christina Bell? Something like that. You were locked up there for what, two hours before you realized you were handcuffed?"
 Travis grinned nearly from ear to ear, he remembered taking Kyle to Rhino's for his 18th birthday party shortly after a family dinner and before a big night with all his and Kyle's friends.

"Hey," Kyle spoke again this time in a very serious tone. "Did you hear Adrianna got prego? She left the New Alexandria Naval Academy way before she was scheduled to be released. I think she's done, given up on the UNSC and this fight." Kyle said, before pulling out a picture. It was a war bond. Dad, Kyle and himself in the middle of it. Two Longswords flying over, while Kyle was on the right side and he was on the left. Dad was in the center. In bold text letters resembling designs a hundred years ago read; 'The Killingers are fighting for humanity! Are you? Join the Marines now!'

"Yeah I heard... Dad told me." Travis said nearly silently through the private channel whilst looking over his brothers shoulder at the picture. Travis had one just like it, he kept it folded up and stuffed behind one of his armor plates at all times, along side a family photo with all the family members in it.

Travis watched as Kyle crumbled up the posted before tossing it over the side of the Warthog. Travis turned his head and watched as it got mushed into the dirt and mud and rolled over by each Warthog behind them. Travis knew there was a lot of tension between Dad and Kyle. Dad wasn't home much and when he was he didn't give the kids much sole attention. Travis frowned a little before lifting his BR55 a little, deciding to keep quiet for the duration of the ride, or until someone spoke to him.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Fields

1/7, A Co, 1st PLT

Forming up with the Lt

"Tornado Actual, this is Tornado One Actual. Our objective to relieve the pressure so the 153rd ODSTs can retreat has failed and we are pulling back from the engagement. Break. Seventeen casualties, no wounded. Material losses: Four warthogs destroyed and all but six damaged. Tornado One Actual out."



The driver of Drake's hog muttered, "Shit, Lt's pulling back with no support sir." 


"Yeah, he is, unless we fall in formation with 'em " Drake's hogs were currently in formation with the APC's of Fourth Platoon. He watched as Lt. Killinger pull away in what was left of his hogs. As they weaved down an alley and behind them Drake made a call. He decided that forming up with and protecting the Lt's retreat was just as vital as relieving the pressure on the 153rd. "Tornado Actual, Tornado-One-One, We're gonna regroup with Tornado-One out." Switching his comms off he made a single for his hogs to follow the 1st Lt. 

The Warthogs backed up and spun around, trying to catch up with the lieutenant.  His IFF indicated he had changed course and was heading out into the forest. “First Lieutenant Travis Killinger to anyone who can hear me on this frequency…Assumed sole survivor of UNSCS Kong. I am currently located on the East side of town five or so minutes from 153rd drop location…Does anybody read, over?”


That'd explain that move, he thought. Directing the driver to move towards that position, the rest of Alpha platoon caught with their CO just as they started to roll, assumable with the other Lt. Kill in hand. "Tornado-One, Tornado-One-One, hogs are moving into formation with you, you alright sir?" 

Captain Kelvin Duncan

1/7, 53rd CE, A Co.

Cleaning up the rubble

Duncan watched the demolition op unfold from the AVLBs. The plasma fire from the bank had caught his men, and himself, off-guard. As plasma fire rained down on their position, Duncan climbed up into one of the machine guns on the closest Aardvark. "God f**king dammit, intel said that the enemy position in that bank was disabled." Duncan was about to open fire on the bank when the explosion went off. Duncan turned his head and covered his eyes with his hand. The light blinding anyone that was looking in it's direction. Before he could look back up, he heard the sounds that indicated a collapsing building.

As he regained his vision, Duncan looked to see a small crater and the town covered in a thin layer of dust. The area taken up by the bank was covered in the materials of it's collapse. Duncan slammed his fist against the hull of the Aardvark and told the driver to move it up.

--- 5 minutes later ---

Duncan had decided to use the restaurant that Lefty had taken cover in as a temporary command center. The enlisted marines of A Co. got to work cleaning the debris as Duncan held an officers meeting in the restaurant. "Causalities?" He asked. Sitting down into one of the few chairs that had been intact in the store. Hawkins, Baldwin, Howard, and Benson all sat around the table. 

"At the moment sir, Pagan is the only known casualty, we do have another man MIA at the moment. We assuming he was knocked out by something in the explosion since the covvies retreated afterwards." Hawkins replied, the other Lts. nodded.

Before Duncan could reply Howard broke into the conversation "Sir, the Aardvarks are sitting ducks in the open like that, sat scans showed an autoshop a few blocks from here we can use to keep them out of the open ." she stated, sliding a tacpad over to Duncan. He looked over the map and smiled before sliding it back. "Benson, I want you to take two squads and go scout out that autoshop. I want to know if it's worth our time to send the Aardvarks over there."

"Sir, the road should be good enough for the tank within 5 mikes, and reports are coming in that the bank blocked off some of the smaller side streets, nothing to important. You'll have to ask command if they want it cleared out or not." Baldwin chimed in.

Duncan sat there and started to open up a pouch on his armor, "I see, I'll speak to command once we claim the town." He pulled out a Sweet Williams Cigar. Biting the butt of the cigar, he raised his lighter up to it and watched as it started to burn. "Until then we are to assume that we are not cleaning the bank up. As of now our priorities are clearing that road and getting the Aardvarks to a safer location. I want progress updates on my tacpad marines. Dismissed." The Lts. saluted Duncan before stepping outside to perform the tasks at hand. 

[MrKill]

(( OOC: Sorry for the slight godmod, Wax and Draken. Just wanted to get the hog out of there and move things along. ))

First Lieutenant Kyle J'Bethu Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1PLT
Approaching his dad...
--- AND ---
Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Seventh Marines
Calm before the storm...

Kyle remained quiet at he thought about how little his father was truly a father figure. Right now, 'dad' was merely his commanding officer, and not even his direct commanding officer either. He reported when requested, but usually reported normally to either Lieutenant Bishop or Captain Sorelson, the XO and CO of Alpha Company.

Sergeant Fields contacted him through the platoon frequency, but Kyle kept quiet as he thought about his father. To say he was 'blanking out' or 'staring into nothing' was an overstatement. The world around him seemed to phase away and only his thoughts remained in the passing blurry environment.

"We hear you, one-one." Staff Sergeant McKeal replied.

Since Fields was able to make it quickly to the small convoy of Warthogs from his location, it was reasonably quick by the time Kyle returned to the Grizzly main battle tank. Of course, his dad was by the tank. The driver pulled up slowly, and Travis and him hopped out.

---

John saw the Warthog pull up and walked over to his dismounted sons. He gave both of them a healthy hug, mixed with a sigh of relief, and stood back. He quickly thanked the guardian angels watching over for them, but didn't fail to notice the Warthog of casualties that his son Kyle had received. "Casualty collection point isn't established yet, but a temporary one over by the Albatross that carried this Grizzly has been set up. Move the bodies onto the drop ship and when it is full it'll lift off." John said, looking over at Kyle.

He had been looking away, towards the city. Kyle had his weapons ready to go, and John gave him the permission to reenter the engagement. "Go ahead, Kyle, but stay safe." John said, realizing that the pressure was mounting again. He emptied his lungs slowly before inhaling before turning to his other son.

He gave Travis another hug. For a moment, John thought he had lost him, even though his pod was launched. It didn't mean his son was actually in it. Fortunately, there he was, standing right in front of him. He smiled healthily but knew he'd have to get Travis to the 153rd ODST Company.

Kyle had broken away and already begun moving towards Captain Sorelson. John looked at his son, "Travis, this town has been a fuck ton more pain than it was worth. The 153rd ODSTs are pinned down, so we're pressing forward. When we get there, I want you to take command of them. Can you do that?" John asked. The only surviving ODST officer was a Second Lieutenant, which made Travis the highest ranking ODST in the area.

---

Kyle rotated views after his father hugged his brother again. "Okay, First Platoon, regroup on me. All NCOs meet me by the tank." Kyle said, feeling reasonably secure it was safe. There hadn't been any plasma heading this way for a while, as the tank wasn't exactly melting. Two plus two did equal four, after all. While Covenant would probably fire from time to time, the fact the tank had suffered little damaged told a story of nearly no struggle.

As soon as his NCOs apart from Staff Sergeant McKeal grouped on the young Marine have a situation report - though a couple of his NCOs weren't their anymore. Sergeant Nimitz was killed, and Corporals McTavish and Mooray were also KIA - That left Kyle with three Sergeants, ten Corporals and a Lance Corporal for squad leaders and fire-team leaders. Out of the fifty Marines he had coming in, one of them died on the pelican, and another seventeen were killed during the rescue attempt. That meant only thirty two of his Marines were left.

"We've taken a lot of casualties, boys and girls. A lot of good Marines have already died in this platoon, friends we will never again hear their voices. But! Let's not honor their deaths by grieving. We will honor their deaths to humanity by winning this battle and relieving the stressed off the 153rd ODSTs. Oorah?"

[Jakob]

Captain William 'Grimm' Montcrieff
Lifting off

The pilot nodded at Slim as they lifted off and he flipped some switches in front of him, going through the various steps to get the several ton vehicle lifting off the ground. The Avi boys were hopping off the wing and grabbing their equipment as Grimm slowly sent fuel to the thrusters and pointed each downwards. The Pelican shuddered a bit but the repairs held and soon they were lifting off the ground.

They were too late to respond to the Bloody Arrow request, but they were still ready to help in the town at least.

"Slim, I'm leaving the back door open in case we get anymore visitors. We'll be giving air support as well, so feel free to join in on the fighting," Grimm said into the crew radio, turning the Pelican towards the town where a rather large plume of smoke was now rising. Giving full power to the engines, they were soon flying towards the burning series of homes and businesses. It would have been a quaint little place if plasma fire and tracer rounds weren't lacing through the sky or explosions weren't dotting the landscape every few minutes, and Grimm sighed as he wondered how many of those plasma bolts would be scorching his nice hull.

Eventually, they saw a convoy of vehicles that were marked as being commanded by a Captain Sorelson on his HUD. Intermittent plasma fire was flying out from the buildings as the convoy moved and Grimm brought the Pelican low, a bit over two hundred feet above the vehicles. He rotated the cannon to fire on the Covenant positions as they passed by, angling the Pelican slightly to give Slim a firing position.

Major Lucas Blakley
Furiously sipping coffee

Everything was going so damned well until every idiot in the damned regiment had decided they'd be a hero and completely disregarded his orders. Kill Jr. almost died because he wanted to charge straight into an ODST position and do... something, the ODSTs had absolutely no idea what the fuck they were doing, special forces his ass, and half of his Marines had charged out of their positions and straight into the ODSTs.

He had gone through three mugs of coffee since Killinger had left and was making good progress on the next one. Keying his comms, he tried his best to remove the bone crushing anger from his voice,

"Company commanders, report. Now."

[Wax™]

((NOTE: At the bottom of my post, I will be communicating with any and ALL surviving members of the
153rd ODST Alpha Company))

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger     

Attached 1/7, A Co., 1PLT   

Preparing to move out 

---&--- 

Master Sergeant Johnny Booth 

153 ODST Battalion 

Sniper Pair - Late Deployment 

Travis somewhat tensed up as his father came down and gave Kyle and himself a hug each before talking momentarily to Kyle who soon after walked off to someone else, John then stepped forward again and gave Travis another hug. Travis was a little less tense this time and lightly put his arms around his dad before pulling back and stepping off. With his ODST helmet in his left hand and his BR55 in the other he stood somewhat at ease but with his hands at his sides as his father addressed him.

"Travis, this town has been a fuck ton more pain than it was worth. The 153rd ODSTs are pinned down, so we're pressing forward. When we get there, I want you to take command of them. Can you do that?"
 Travis heard his father say. Travis looked at him dead on and nodded his head a single time before lifting his hand that held his ODST helmet and sliding it on and over his head, the screen automatically tinting so his face was no longer visible.

"I can do that... Permission to take four empty APC's with me to the back of the town to pick up the ODST's re-group and re-organize then move in for another attack? I'd need to borrow four of your drivers and four marines for gunner duty if that's alright Sir." Travis said with a smirk as he called his dad 'Sir' it brought him some sort of amusement, Travis also turned his head to the left and looked over to his brother as he begun addressing his troops.

"We've taken a lot of casualties, boys and girls. A lot of good Marines have already died in this platoon, friends we will never again hear their voices. But! Let's not honor their deaths by grieving. We will honor their deaths to humanity by winning this battle and relieving the stressed off the 153rd ODSTs. Oorah?"
Travis heard, turning his head to look back at his dad momentarily, he looked past the man as he saw two ODST's jogging down the road from the Battalion CP.

---

John jogged at a steady pace along side his friend and spotter Sergeant David O'Conner. The pair of them landed at the beginning of the assault of the Battalion CP as there some some mix up's with their assigning and mission details so they spent the first half of the assault AT the Battalion CP. Only recently receiving orders to move out and join the 153rd ODST's Alpha Company. The pair jogged towards what looked like a rally point with a Grizzly tank and a decent amount of military personnel near-by. As the pair got closer he noticed two men standing relatively close to one another. One of them was an ODST so naturally, Johnny would approach him first. 

Once the sniper pair were about twenty meters from the two men they slowed down and entered a slow paced walk, once they were about two meters from the two they stopped and gave off quick salutes. "Sir's..." John opened up looking toward the now obvious Colonel, John's HUD lighting up the pair's IIF tag's. "Master Sergeant Booth and Sergeant O'Conner reporting from the Battalion CP... We were told to join the 153rd ODST's Alpha Company."

---

"Sirs... Master Sergeant Booth and Sergeant O'Conner reporting from the Battalion CP... We were told to join the 153rd ODST's Alpha Company." Travis heard the ranking NCO out of the pair speak towards him and dad. "Well you came to the right place... I've just been given command of Alpha Company in order to re-organize and re-establish some sort of command you'll stick with me while we go to join the 153rd." Travis said before looking to his father. Whether he said yes to the APC's or not Travis was still going to call them in. He'd rather go around the town and extract the ODST's from the rear rather than go through the middle and risk losing his life. He'd rather pot-shots over combat any day. Suddenly Travis heard this over the COMM's.

"Company commanders, report. Now." Travis heard, instantly opening up his COMM's to reply to the Major Lucas Blakley, the name coming up at the bottom right of his HUD, also a picture of the man appearing. "Major Blakley... This is First Lieutenant Travis Killinger... I've been given command of the 153rd... Currently proceeding to recresition four APC's and drive around the perimeter of the town to extract the remaining survivors of Alpha Company... We'll then re-group and re-organize before joining the fight once more; how copy?" Travis said before opening up another channel between him and some vehicle assets nearby.

"I need four unloaded APC's brought up to the Grizzly immediately, four drivers and four gunners; over." Eventually over a period of five or so minutes the four APC's would arrive at Travis' location and he would get ready to extract the 153rd's Alpha Company, which was now his Company, for now. He'd then open ANOTHER channel to speak directly to ALL members of the 153rd's Alpha Company.

"First Lieutenant Travis Killinger to all surviving members of Alpha Company; 153rd... Retreat to the southern most perimeter of the town, I repeat... Retreat to the south of town and prepare for re-organisation and possible extraction." Travis would say again before going quiet and looking to his dad momentarily.

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company: In the Town: Assisting Fourth Platoon: En-route back to the Rally Point of Alpha Company: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

“Company commanders, report. Now,” chimed the Major’s voice over Mark’s helmet-radio. He sounds pissed, Mark mused.

“Tornado Actual to Assassin Actual…” he began, opening the frequency while the warthog dodged plasma blasts. “What can I do for you, Sir? You’re interrupting a nice relaxing drive down Webson Street,” He'd remembered having noticed a street-sign, that had oddly enough remained firmly anchored on its pole and hadn't suffered from the ongoing firefights. The street-sign, placed atop two, had read Webson Street East while the other that had been turned away from him had read Pike Street. He'd felt it had been appropriate after the Major had called in, to at least let him know of their location some miles from the Rally Point with the rest of Alpha Company at the edge of town.

An icon winked into existence on his HUD, a tag identifying a pelican overhead belonging to a Captain William ‘Grim’ Montcrieff and his crew. Echoes from the pelican’s bay door gunner firing in bursts on the Covenant patrols nearby provided cover for the convoy of mixed vehicles, and Mark for one had been very appreciative of the Captain’s presence.

“Tornado Actual to Grimm. Appreciate the assist, and it’s nice seeing you fly-boys. I don’t feel I need to tell you this, but keep your eyes open and sights clear. We caught the Covenant detachment in this town off guard by cooking their own demo-teams, and the patrols we’re encountering now are too ticked off to admit what kind of sore losers they are,” Mark said, opening a frequency to the pelican above them. He’d wince a little as the clear view provided by the warthog’s windshield had been replaced by a splash of purple guts as a brief thud passed beneath the warthog evidence a Kig-yar had been caught by the warthog’s two front “horns” before being dragged under the four massive tires. “I’ll help you wash this warthog, Corporal,”

“That was nasty, Sir,” the Lance Corporal remarked wiping some of the purple guts from his own helmet’s visor no thanks to the ragged hole left in the windshield.

“I think it was worse for our Jackal friend,” Mark said while evading incoming plasma fire.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Maximilian 'Drake' Fields  

1/7, A Co, 1st PLT, 1st Squad 

Regrouping 

The hogs of 1st platoon made it back to the grizzly and original staging point quickly. The grizzly still sat on the hill where it was before, but a new IFF tag was present. The tag that floated there in Drake's HUD beside the Grizzly's read COL KILL. Before he could say anything, the hogs pulled up and stopped. The Killingers had a small family reunion, well Drake payed his respects to his fallen comrades. 'Seventeen marines dead. Seven f***ing teen.' Drake thought to himself. Suddenly the voice of 1st Lt. Killinger rang out over the comms, "Okay, First Platoon, regroup on me. All NCOs meet me by the tank."

Drake saluted the dead that laid in the back of the warthog. As he lowered his hand he turned and started jogging to the tank. The other NCOs already present. As he walked up besides the lance corporal, he heard the 1st Lt. address them, "We've taken a lot of casualties, boys and girls. A lot of good Marines have already died in this platoon, friends we will never again hear their voices. But! Let's not honor their deaths by grieving. We will honor their deaths to humanity by winning this battle and relieving the stressed off the 153rd ODSTs. Oorah?"

"Oorah!" Drake called out, ready to take the fight back to the covenant. "Let's go make those bastards pay for what they've done." He said raising his rifle. He was hoping to raise the morale of the other troops around them.

Captain Kelvin Duncan 

1/7, 53rd CE, A Co. 

Road Cleared, Reporting in 

Duncan sat at the table in the temporary HQ as the company worked. His officers, except 2nd Lt Benson, were spread out around the shop doing their work. "Sir, the dozers just finished repairing the road. It's all clear for armor now." Howard called out. She kept her eyes on the tacpad in front of her as Benson walked in. "Sir, I got the teams ready to go." He stood there with a MA5c in hand.

Duncan looked up from the tacpads in front of him and nodded, "Get moving Lt. we need that location to keep our tanks at." Duncan didn't pay attention to the soldier's departure as he returned to the tac pads. He had three laid out on the table, each with a different purpose. The tacpad he was currently looking at was staying up to date with intel reports from the Battalion CP. "Howard, tell the dozers to move back with the Aardvarks on the hill." 

As Duncan was about to go back to reading the intel reports coming in. When the comm piece in his ear came alive with the major's voice, "Company commanders, report. Now." 

He's pissed, Duncan thought, before turning on his microphone on. "Assassin Actual, Reaper Actual reporting in. The road into the town has been cleared, and we have set up a HQ sir."  Duncan hesitated for a second before continuing, "We had to demo the debris blocking the road. The blast from the charges caused the bank to collapse blocking off a few side streets. Nothing that would affect troop movements through the town though sir. How copy?" He said, clicking a button on the tacpad in front of him. It sent out a intel report to the different company commanders informing them of the establishment of the HQ and it's location.

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
DMMP-278 Supporting 1/7
Light'n Shit Up!

Slim heard the Broken Arrow call but he knew that they could never respond in time. Things were sounding horrid out there and they could really use their help. Captain Grimm nodded, giving Slim the go ahead to get everything ready. He made sure everything was secured and that people were clear as the pilots started up the bird. Everyone cleared out as soon as they heard the APP start running but Avi was a little slow, getting out just in time before the pilots started up the engines. Slim checked the aircraft's readings on his TACPAD and everything looked good. He trusted his squadron to do their jobs and do them right. He sat near the rear as the bird lifted into the sky.

As they flew to the war zone Captain Grimm relayed to him that he was leaving the door open so Slim can fire out the back in case they have any trouble. "Roger sir," the Crew Chief acknowledged as he got up on the gun.

Slim racked the charging handle twice and was ready to rain death upon the alien bastards. As the sounds of chaos grew closer he became more tense as he looked for targets. He then heard the familiar sounds of friendly vehicles as they approached them. The moment he saw a small horde of Grunts taking cover behind some destroyed vehicles Slim opened fired. They exploded into vivid blue fountains as he hit on target. He moved his fire up toward the buildings to suppress them. He heard the appreciation of his help over the com but he was too busy and not important enough to respond to them besides continuing to provide fire support for them.

---

CPL Toby 'Mick' McMillian JR
ODST - 153rd A Company
Out Hiking

The two ODSTs hiked through the forest toward the town. Mick enjoyed hiking and was going at a fairly decent pace while keeping his ears out for anything that wasn't natural. PFC Ortiz lagged behind as she listened to what was going on with the company. Mick wasn't very fond of wearing helmets in general. In his normal Marine days he would often trade his helmet for a pair of shooting glasses with a HUD and a com piece, maybe wear a bandanna or a watch cap. However as an ODST a helmet was a requirement and no matter how much it irked him, he had to admit the benefits. Right now would be a really good time to have a helmet. No one liked being left out.

"Corporal, an ODST sir called a retreat to the South with a possible extraction," Ortiz finally spoke up.

Mick gave an exasperated sigh. Things must be going really bad if ODSTs were being called to retreat. It will take forever for them to catch up with the others at this rate. However his brief disappointment didn't slow him down. "Tell them we're alive and need some pick up if they can," he said.

The PFC nodded then said over the com, "1st LT Killinger, this is PFC Ortiz of 153rd Alpha. My Corporal and I got diverted off course and in a forest west of the town in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. A pick up would be much appreciated senor."

[MrKill]

First Lieutenant Kyle B'Sheau Killinger
1/7, A Co., 1PLT
Clearing out the town

"Staff Sergeant, take third squad up through these buildings and cut into this alley and set up here." Kyle said, pointing at his map. The building in question was an apartment complex across from the bank. The young Lieutenant hoped that the firing position provided some covering fire and height when his Marines advanced forward more. The town was nearly secure surprisingly. They had done a good job cutting around and circling the Covenant into sectioned off areas. Captain Sorelson and his company had pressed in nicely, cutting a path right through the middle at this location that actually cornered them off for Kyle and his platoon.

Technically, Kyle was operating under his own devices. He had received orders to regroup with the Captain, but he'd use something called 'initiative' to route the Covenant group that had been trapped behind the Marine advance. From reports from a Lance Corporal in his unit from third squad there were only about two squads strength of Covenant in this part.

"Second Squad, I want you to take the opposing building here." Kyle said, pointing out another building adjacent to the one Third Squad would be. The Covenant were in the middle of them, and Kyle wanted to push them out into the open by choking their means of escape.

"Everyone else, you're with me. We're going to push the Covenant from this building and into the open field were they'll walk into the cross fire from Second and Third squads. Everyone move out!" Kyle said as he folded his map on the Grizzlies armor before sliding it back into his pouch.

Kyle grabbed his assault rifle next. The MA5C was equipped with the exchangeable sixty round magazines from the MA5B series of assault rifles, though he only had two of those magazines. Every other magazine he had was the standard thirty two round, plus one in the chamber if he reloaded with one round left. He put the sling on and nodded to Staff Sergeant McKeal, who replied by giving him the thumbs up. Almost immediately his platoon sergeant moved away, taking eleven of the remaining thirty six Marines with him.

First Squad had twelve Marines, as did Second Squad. Eventually, it was just Sergeant Fields, his Marines and the Lieutenant standing by the tank as the two other squads got into position. Kyle had to move out as well.

"Alright, Sergeant, let's do this." The Lieutenant said to Fields. "Let's make them pay."

[Wax™]

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger      

153rd ODST's A, Co. Temp - CO

Preparing to move out 

Travis took a few steps away from his father and gestured the two fellow ODST's to follow him. Master Sergeant Booth and Sergeant O'Conner. They were a sniper/spotter pair, they were both armed with M7S Caseless Submachine Gun's except for Booth who was also carrying a Sniper Rifle System 99 Anti-Matériel attached to his back with the barrel poking out a foot above his head so that it didn't drag against the ground. Travis waited for the APC's to arrive and called in over the COMM's to make sure that one of the middle APC was packed with medical gear and spare ammunition, God knew the 153rd would need both of them. After a few seconds Travis heard this over the radio.

"1st LT Killinger, this is PFC Ortiz of 153rd Alpha. My Corporal and I got diverted off course and in a forest west of the town in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. A pick up would be much appreciated senor."
Travis heard the young PFC speak over the COMM's. Soon after that three APC's showed up being lead by a M41 Mounted Warthog.

"PFC Ortiz... Affirmative, keep heading toward the town, take cover and lay low at the edge of town and we'll swing by and pick you up, how copy; over." Travis said before pulling out a tactical pad from his webbing and using it to place an RV point on the digital map render and sync it with every member of the 153rd's Alpha Company before opening at COMM's with ALL surviving members. "Alpha Company... Temporary CO Killinger here... I have set an RV point and synced it to all of your HUD's approximately a couple hundred meters south of your current position... APC's inbound with medical supplies and ammunition, out."

Travis then walked over to the Warthog leading the three APC's the second APC down being the one carrying the medical supplies and ammunition. Travis would move over to the passenger side seat of the M41 Warthog and haul his way into the seat. Master Sergeant Booth would follow suit and jump in next to Travis, sitting one leg in and one leg out of the Warthog whilst lifting his silenced SMG. Sergeant O'Conner mounted the hog's M41.

"Alright... Let's roll out..." Travis said over the COMM's linking all four vehicles up to each other... The driver of the lead vehicle, being the M41 Warthog would pull a hard left and flank to the left side of town driving along the outskirts and eventually the PFC Ortiz's position.

[LaxKnight]

CPL Toby 'Mick' McMillian Jr
ODST - 153rd A Company
Waiting...

Mick was leading them through the forest and he saw the outskirts of town when he felt a tap on the shoulder. It made him jump a little but he quickly relaxed when he realized it was just PFC Ortiz trying to give him a heart attack. "You lose limbs that way!" he exclaimed.


"Sorry senor. I got a response from the LT. He told us to stay put and wait for pick up," she said then went back on the radio and said, "1st Lt. Killinger, this is PFC Ortiz. Solid copy. We'll wait for pick up. Out."


The moment she hung up suddenly she felt a burning pain in her right arm. It was like an fat, ultra hot needle was stabbed into her arm. The first reaction she had was saying, "Mierda!"


She instantly dropped her weapon and used her arm to cover the gaping hole in her arm. It felt like someone left a hot coal in there. Mick, watching the whole thing happen, dove on her to get her down to prevent her from being shot again. As they fell another Beam Rifle round went past them, missing them by inches. Slinging his weapon on his back, he dragged his wounded team mate to a broken down wall of a ruin. The entire time Ortiz was stringing a tapestry of Spanish curses and swears. He set her against the wall then got his LMG back in his hands. "Ortiz," he called trying to get her attention.


She wasn't responding to him, only saying things like 'cabron', 'chingate', 'puta', and the more elegant 'Yo cago en la leche de tu puta madre.'


"Ortiz!" Mick yelled. He still got no acknowledgement. He then knocked her in the helmet and screamed, "Ortiz! Get on the fucking com and call it in!"


That made her stop at least. Mick returned his attention to the situation at hand. He's got a wounded ODST and pinned down by at least one sniper. He had to determine how many there were and how much deep shit he was in. That would mean popping his head out of cover and getting sniped. He was considering alternatives when he heard the characteristic roar of Warthog engines and churning dirt beneath them. "Snipers! We got snipers," he tried to warn them.


At that moment the snipers chose to open fire on the Warthogs.

[Wax™]

First Lieutenant Travis Killinger      

153rd A, Com. Temporary CO    

Deploying into combat

---&---  

Master Sergeant Johnny Booth  

153 ODST Battalion  

Sniper Pair - Late Deployment 
---&---
Second Lieutenant Justin Jenkins
1st Bt, A, CO. 4th Platoon CO
Following 1st Lt Killinger, T.

Travis sat in the front passenger side of M41 Warthog as it barreled down one of the dirt tracks outside the town's outskirts. Travis could heard the distant sound of small arms fire and big arms fire over the roaring engine of the Warthog and the sound of dirt and gravel being crunched underneath the heavy rubber tires. Travis looked up through his ODST's helmet at Booth who was currently sitting literally right next to him on the passenger side rail, one leg inside the passenger seat and one leg out sitting on the railing, he was currently wielding his M7S silenced submachine gun. On his back however was his sniper, your standard issue Sniper Rifle System 99 Anti-Matériel. Strapped firmly with the barrel facing up so it didn't drag behind him.


"1st Lt. Killinger, this is PFC Ortiz. Solid copy. We'll wait for pick up. Out."
Travis heard over the COMM's before they went dark again the message however was soon followed by a distress call literally just as Travis and the three APC's rocked up at PFC Ortiz's position. "Snipers! We got snipers." Travis heard, seconds before a beam rifle round slammed down on the windshield of the warthog, melting through the glass within seconds and just narrowly missing the driver.

"Suppress that position!" Travis yelled as the Warthog game to a sudden halt, once the vehicle stopped the driver bailed out and took cover behind the front left tire, Travis did the same diving over the drivers side seat and literally falling on top of the driver as another beam rifle round nearly clipped Travis in the leg. 

---

Booth jumped off the side of the Warthog and begun sprinting full pace toward the enemy snipers position before the Warthog had even stopped moving, breathing heavily with his feet slamming hard against the dirt surface, he soon found himself on the asphalt of a road just ten meters away from the building that the sniper was inside. Meanwhile Booth's spotter Sergeant O'Conner who was currently on the lead vehicles M41 begun to open fire against the snipers position, forcing it into cover.

"Approaching enemy position." Booth spoke over the COMM's as he made the gap between the Warthog and the building. Approaching quickly towards a closed wooden door, Booth slowed himself down just a little bit before lifting a boot and rocketing it into the door, just next to where the lock is. The door cracked and snapped just where the handle and lock was before rocketing open and Booth dived into what was a narrow hallway with a set of steps on one side that lead to a higher story. Sliding about three or so meters on a marble surface he spun himself around to his back and lifted his silenced SMG into the the air. Silently listening for movement. Hearing nothing but the M41 gunfire outside and just the slight scamper of footsteps on the above floors Booth got to his feet and slowly put one foot before the other, walking to the stairs.

"Moving to snipers position." Booth said over the COMM's.

"Affirmative... Still suppressing." O'Conner replied before halting fire for just four seconds, within that four second gap a beam rifle round had impacted against the right shielding of the M41 and gently clipped O'Conner's shoulder piece leaving a weird crescent shaped burn/dent in the side.

"Bitch!" O'Conner yelped before pulling back on the firing mechanisms for the M41 and unloading the huge rounds into the snipers position again, this time in relatively short bursts.

---

Meanwhile Lieutenant Travis Killinger moved from his position behind the Warthog and approached PFC Ortiz and CPL McMillian. Who knew their names due to their IFF tag's lighting up on his extremely detailed ODST helmet HUD. PFC Ortiz's vitals also lit up on Killinger's HUD due to the intense wound.

"Shit..." Killinger said before taking a knee right next to Ortiz, he then turned his head and looked over to McMillian. "Alright... We need to move her." Travis said swinging his arm around Ortiz's back on the side of her good shoulder and arm, before swinging his other arm underneath Ortiz's legs and picking her up off the ground. It wasn't too hard. Travis was in his peak of physical perfection and he was only going to get better as time go on. Mind you she was heavy due to all the ODST equipment, but adrenaline took care of that.

"Alright move! Third vehicle down the line let's go!" Travis yelled, directing Corporal McMillian toward the third APC whilst Travis ran as fast as he could to the vehicle whilst carrying PFC Ortiz. He was going to put her in the vehicle filled with the medical supplies and a SINGLE combat medic so she could get patched up quickly and efficiently. By now however there was more than one Covenant target firing upon them from the same building. However this did not stop Travis from making the gap to the APC and stepping up into the rear hatch and placing Ortiz down before stepping out.

---

Meanwhile Booth had just gotten up onto the second floor, slowly stepping one foot before the other as he made for the second flight of stairs that would lead to the roof. Suddenly Booth's helmet flared up as a blue Covenant sticky grenade dropped down on the wall just to his left, Instead of moving back down the stairs Booth decided to dive in to the direction of the grenade however through an arch in the wall into the next room. The second Booth hit the ground the grenade exploded and sent rubble flying not only over himself but in all other directions. Booth was instantly being fired upon by Covenant plasma weapons. The only reason who knew that was because he saw them flying past the cover in which he took, which seemed to be a kitchen counter.

"Darn... Fuck... Shit, bollocks." Booth said as he pushed his back against the counter and waited for a break in the suppressive fire which never came. Booth gritted his teeth and slowly poked his head out of cover to hopefully get a glimpse of the enemy positions. However a plasma round detonated against the kitchen bench right in front of him, sending splash back onto his helmet. Burning small indentations all over the visor.

"Ok... Uhm..." Booth said to himself again as he moved a hand down and grabbed TWO grenades off his belt, pulling the pins on both of them before throwing them over the counter and crawling out into the hall. As he crawled out of the hall he instantly dropped onto his stomach as he saw a Jackal standing six or so meters in front of him down the hall next to another arch. The Jackal opened fire but missed as Booth dropped onto his stomach. Luckily one of the TWO grenades in which Booth threw rolled out into the hall near the Jackal and detonated right under it. Sending blue and purple goo all over the place and shrapnel all over Booth, two of the small pieces ripping through his fatigues on his arm and scraping him gently.

Booth then rolled over on his stomach and back, BACK into what was seemingly a kitchen and picking himself up onto his feet. He instantly recognised the outlines of TWO grunts, one of them was lying dead on the floor from the grenade, whilst the second panicked and gripped onto it's massive stuby leg. It was wounded. Booth lifted his silenced SMG and unloaded about twelve or so rounds into the gas breather, stilled hyped on adrenaline.

"Moving to the roof." Booth managed to speak into the COMM's a few seconds after taking out the grunt. Unlike how he acted downstairs he approached the second flight quite fast. Bending down near one of the dead grunts before he begun to climb the stairs, he took one of their standard issue sticky grenades and held it in his left hand. Stepping up onto the stairs, the door to the roof was closed. Booth could hear outside the sound of M41 fire and plasma fire. Took in a deep breath before shoving open the door quickly and tossing out the plasma grenade after arming it a second or so before. He'd then close the door and duck down.

One or two plasma bolts came shooting through the wooden door before Booth heard an explosion and the firing stopped. Instantly slamming through the door. The Sniper was on it's back scurrying to the other side of the building whilst a Grunt flailed it's arms up in the air running away from the scene of the explosion, which completely obliterated another Grunt. Booth then proceeded to unload the rest of his rounds, first into the startled Jackal sniper and then into the scared and confused Grunt before taking a few moments to himself and calling it in.

"Cease fire... Target eliminated." Booth said, though O'Conner had stopped shooting as soon as he saw the explosion go off on the roof top.

---

Travis had now moved back over to his M41 Warthog and had taken a position in the passenger side seat again, both hands clutching onto his BR55 which was strapped to his body. The Driver was once again in his seat and waiting to drive off again. Travis watched as Booth jogged back over the the Warthog and jumped back into his position he was in before.

"That was incredibly brave of you Master Sergeant... Stupid! But brave... I'll see if I can get you a commendation for that... There's nothing much more that we could have done with the man power we have... Good job..." Travis said nodding to the man. "Let's go retrieve out soldiers now." Travis said before slamming a hand down on the dash. It was ture that there wasn't much else they could do. Travis only had seven men under his command right now including himself. None of the other APC's currently had gunners, so it was just four drivers, O'Conner, Booth and himself. Now with Ortiz and McMillian in the second to last APC.

"Alright let's move out..." Travis said over the convoy COMM's. "Make sure you're buttoned up back there McMillian." He said before the convoy begun to move again.

"153rd Alpha Company hang in there... Make sure you're ALL at the RV point south of the town in the outskirts... We're ten minutes out... Munitions and medical supplies inbound." Travis said before opening up a private channel between him and Staff Sergeant Willobay. "Staff Sergeant, due to the lack of response from Gunnery Sergeant Stonebridge, I am elevating you to my acting XO. I need you to get ALL those ODST's in the town, south and out of the town to the RV point... How copy; over?"

---

Justin had re:routed his Platoon full of APC's to the west side of the town outskirts to follow First Lieutenant Travis Killinger and his group of APC's to the south of town. His objective was still essentially to help take off stress from the ODST's and he figured his platoon was better needed with 1st Lt Killinger than with Sorelson at this particular time.

"First Lieutenant Killinger, this is Second Lieutenant Jenkins... Hey buddy." He said to his second child hood friend of the Killingers. "We're right behind you mate... Fifty meters from your rear most APC... My Men are at your disposal." Justin said before cutting COMM's.

[Cabel]

[Tranquilitas Beta: Moon Sanctuary: Alpha Company: Rally Point for Alpha Platoon on the outskirts of the Town: Captain Mark “Spade” Seamus Sorelson: Year 2547]

The warthog sporting a windshield with a jagged hole punched close to the driver’s side rolled up next to the massive Grizzly tank destroyers surrounded by at least of its Scorpion main battle tank cousins, forcing Mark to look around before bringing the warthog to a steady stop next to the tank destroyers. Though after he‘d been able to discern the Colonel‘s location through the marine‘s IFF tags on his HUD, the aging Captain swung the warthog over in that direction and brought it to a stop feet from the massed gathering of marines. The three other warthogs that had been assigned to Mark’s detail came to a stop near where Mark’s own vehicle had parked and the marines aboard were both under the effects of an adrenaline rush and at least a little relieved to back behind their own lines. Those marines took the time to check their weapons before grabbing a few more spare grenades, and magazines for their rifles.

“A pleasure, Sir, but I need Second and Third Platoons with armor support to roll into the Town,” Spade said after bringing the warthog to a stop and turned his attention to the marines nearby representing the rest of Alpha Company. Sliding the helmet-mic out, he’d switch to the encrypted frequency used by Second Platoon, Third Platoon, the Grizzly Tank Destroyers and the Scorpions. “Tornado Actual to Tornado Two Actual and Tornado Three Actual. Have your platoons gear up and advance into the town. Keep your eyes open, and sights clean. The Covenant still have stragglers within the Town’s limits. Tornado Actual to Anvil Actual and Anvil One-One, keep close to the infantry advance and the warthogs. Provide armor, and covering fire with your big guns. Tornado Actual to Scorpions, advance with the Grizzlies, and infantry, but don’t clump together. Keep your eyes and ears open, for Covenant stragglers. The Five-Three Combat Engineers have cleared the path of rubble, and debris, but the path is still rocky. This frequency will remain open. Tornado Actual; out,”

“Sir,” he said turning back towards Colonel Killinger, his old friend. “With your permission, Alpha Company will commence securing the Town,” With a nod, rather than a salute considering they were in a hot engagement, Mark turned the wheel sharply to the left bringing the warthog around to face the town followed by the three other warthogs assigned to his detail. Opening the throttle, Mark‘s warthog sped back into the town with the three other warthogs in tow while the rest of Alpha Company commenced their advance..