Unit Mission: Seventh Marines

[BasedGoody]

Pvt Barrington
Things are looking up already!

No more point. It was an improvement to Barry, it lifted a weight off of his shoulders. Before, his movements could influence the group behind him and Fear's silhouetted masculine body took power over the frail and small body of hope. Hope now had broken free of her chains and pushed back Fear, who had kept her hostage for so long.

This ongoing battle inside the Private's mind had been going on as long as he can remember. It was Fear and Hope waging war on his already-battle-scarred mind. Occasionally Friendship assisted Hope like a knight in shining armor. Unfortunately Fear's comrade Pain would show up and tear up the place, leaving a more physical damage than mental.

Now a Corporal stood up to the plate. Barrington's mind shot to the thought, Does he have the same combat in his head, or is it just me? The idea diminished in his head and instead shuffled towards Fields, who wanted him on hand when they moved. Barry wondered why, maybe he had done a good job on point?

But why would that constitute the privilege of standing next to someone who's seen more combat than Barry could think of? The Private stood in a more relaxed position, yet was on alert. Fear's cold fingertips laced around the inner recesses of his mind and caressed Hope, teasing her back into captivity.

Barrington shook his head causing his enemy to scurry back to the "No Man's Land" of his mind. Lost dreams and nightmares aimlessly wandered around the barren wasteland. Fear walked among them like they were scum. He ignored them and plotted his revenge against Hope.The Private was oblivious to Fear's plans, he only knew that Hope was with him now.

[dryskim]

Lance Corporal Richard 'Double Dick' Bellend   

7th Marine Regiment, 1st Battalion   

Tornado 2-4 Alpha   

Cookies, tattoos, guns, booze, dip, redacted and redacted behavior - The UNSCMC in a nutshell

"Making Lance?" Bellend chuckled, "Fuck, everybody makes Lance, even viking motherfuckers like Jock," he rolled up onto his side, unzipping his hip pouch, he bit his lip as he fumbled within for his prize. A moment later, he had another double pack of cookies in-hand, and after a mimed throw to indicate his intent before following through with the toss, "I mean, fuck, Warren, the Corps promotes people like you to Corporal," the assaultman shrugged, "But I guess I gotta respect your ability to surmount the bullshit that is cutting scores, since you don't have Papa Killinger to put in a good word for you," Double Dick grinned, "SENTENCE REDACTED - INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE. Knowing that you can now lead deadly warrior poets like myself, psychopaths like Stone, and incomprehensible Scotsmen like Jock across the galaxy as we fight space aliens, and-" 

He gestured wildly to the barren field beyond.

"-stare fuckin' at rocks!"

The Lance Corporal settled back on his haunches, "Fuck, I'm not kill-crazy like Stone, always wanting to bayonet motherfuckers and collect scalps and shit, but fuck, my inner barbarian demands I slaughter some peasants and subjugate their women. Only good thing I've got out of this so far is a pack of cookies and a combat jack."

[RiddL]

Staff Sergeant Kai (Wolf) Blacklock
153rd ODST
Stepping into the light

Kai saw that Nyro was jumpy and nervous and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder to calm her a little.

He let the injured man lean against the nearby wall and started to scan the area for any light coming in, along with any shimmering light that gave way a Spec Ops position.

He walked down to one of the maintenance hatches and peeked into the seemingly pitch black space.

He held his rifle ready and took a breath as he walked through the emerfency maintenance area and slowed as he saw something that nearly brought a tear to his eye.

He hurriedly made his way back to Nyro and the wounded man and knelt down.

"We have an exit" he said, hiding his excitement and relief.

He got to his feet and motioned for them to follow him.

It was time to leave.

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
UNSC 7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon

Vivian tensed when Kai's hand found her shoulder. She was hoping he would be covering his sector rather than trying to comfort her. She'd be more sound if she knew they had adequate security. Regardless, Nyro felt she was handling herself well, and even when Kai moved on ahead, leaving her with the wounded crewman, she wasnt any less secure than she was before.

When the staff sergeant finally returned, announcing the discovery of their exit, she gave him a nod. "I'll take up rear defense. Lead on."

A series of twist and turns later, they were nearly home free. The hatch was no bigger than a sewer cover and its instructions were nearly idiot proof with illustrations and instructions. Slinging her rifle, Vivian knelt down, cranked the hatch's handles accordingly, and a moment later the explosive bolts detonated on the other side and sent a solid slab of titanium plating with it. Opening the manual door, she was rewarded with a smokey haze and then fresh earth. All that was between them was a six foot drop.

"Nice," she muttered, punching Kai's shoulder. "You two first."

[RiddL]

Staff Sergeant Kai (Wolf) Blacklock
153rd ODST
Ka'Splat

Kai took a look out the hatch to the ground and laughed at the sunshine that hit his visor.

He grabbed the handle and flipped out of the exit and landed flat on his stomach hard.

He rolled onto his back with a laugh and sat up and got to his feet.

The injured guy saw him as he landed on his stomach and gave a small laugh of his own. He grabbed the handles and slowly let himself to the ground and stepped softly onto the the hard packed earth.

Kai walked up to him and patted his shoulder a couple of times, smiling as he did so.

He looked up at the hatch and started to bring formality back, fun time in the ship over.

"Nyro, come on down, no signs of contact"

[MrKill]

Staff Sergeant McKeal
1/7, A Co., 1PLT
Crashed Freighter

"Right. Let's get moving. Lead us out, Sergeant." McKeal ordered as he looked towards Sergeant Fields. The SSGT scanned the operations room one last time, a feeling of dis-comfort crawling up his spin. There was one question on his mind and he was sure the other Marines were asking the same thing: Where did all the armed guards go? It appeared the civilians in this freighter were killed without fighting back. All for one dead black elite, they hadn't run into another body.

An freighter typically had some form of internal security, and despite coming through a crowded deck of dead bodies back at the hanger entrance, they really hadn't run into any spent bronze or discharged weapons. Even the dead elite wasn't smothered in blood. It looked like it was friendly fire more than an assault rifle ripping into its mid section. The question was above his pay-grade, though. He didn't have the time nor men to dig deeper into the answer, and he wasn't certain if he wanted to find out anyways.

McKeal exhaled through his noise quickly and retrieved his round he placed on the ladder. He didn't bother putting in back into a magazine and slid it into one of his pouches. It was times like this he wished he had the VISR the ODSTs had. The ability to illuminate nearby solid objects would grant his Marines the ability to detect the invisible split-jaw fuckers in the dictated close quarter areas within the ship.

"Get that information back to the Regiment HQ as soon as we're out." McKeal said.

"You haven't gotten us out yet, Staff." A Marine chirped.

"I noticed." McKeal replied blankly.

They were waiting on Sergeant Fields to get them back down now.

[Guardian Cat of Yappa's]

Sergeant Drake Fields
1/7, A Co, 1st PLT, 2nd Squad
Crashed Freighter
Let's GTFO of here

"Right. Let's get moving. Lead us out, Sergeant."

"Get that information back to the Regiment HQ as soon as we're out." He heard the Staff call out to the VIP

"You haven't gotten us out yet, Staff." came from a marine in the back

A "I noticed." rang out from the staff as Fields turned back to face him.

"Copy that, Staff. One-Two we're Oscar Mike!"

Fields tapped the shoulder of the Corporal beside him, who slowly stepped forward into the darkness. Slowly followed by the other marines of One-Two. He took a quick look back at Barrington before moving forward. "Eye's up private, if we get hit, this would be the time." As they plunged back into the darkness that was the ship. Dam Spec ops, my team is all boys, none of them are ready for this. His gut instinct told him that they'd be hit again in the hanger, but his mind told him that the hallways were the most dangerous of all. He trusted both instincts, since both were strong possibilities. "Keep your eyes open and your rifles up One-Two, don't let the enemy get the drop on you."

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
UNSC 7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon



Nyro gripped the handles at either side of the hatch, brought her knees to the edge, then stopped. Remembering Kai's squad was still aboard somewhere, she glanced over her shoulder. As the corpsman pondered the decision her hand rested on the front of the MA5 slung at her hip.

"What about the others?" She asked, turning her head to Kai.

[dryskim]

Lance Corporal Richard 'Double Dick' Bellend    

7th Marine Regiment, 1st Battalion    

Tornado 2-4 Alpha


War, kind of like summer camp, but with guns and dead people

The Lance Corporal shifted, moving to a superior position where he didn't have to contend with a rock embedded in his buttock, propped himself so he didn't have to make a cognitive effort to remain upright, and let his MA5C rest across his chest. He halfheartedly checked the mission clock in the upper corner of his HUD, sighed, and went back to gazing out at the gray sky and sleepy fields beyond their hastily put together defensive line. 

And because he'd had to be such a good battle buddy, he'd passed off his last packet of cookies to the volatile Scotsman.

"Fu-" instead of finishing his depraved statement that would somehow involve elementary schoolers and cacti, assaultman Bellend coughed, a painful thing like someone shoved a pine cone down his throat, covered it in battery acid and napalm. The coughing fit stopped, momentarily, and Bellend grunted, "What the fu-" and hacked until he went cross-eyed. Instead of going with his usual, he settled on using the Lord's name in vein, "Jesus tap-dancing Christ," and fumbled in his kit for his canteen to sooth his weary throat.

  

[RiddL]

Staff Sergeant Kai (Wolf) Blacklock
153rd ODST
Cold, Calculating.

Kai looked at Nyro and showed his face revealing the cold eyes that usually showed warmth and happiness.

"Assume the worst, get back to the larger force, drop you two off and then head straight back into hell, feet first. Collect the tags of the fallen, kill a couple of squid heads. Leave this moon and its cursed planet. If they survived, they will meet us at the rendevous."
Kai said with a small tinge of bitterness and anger directed more at himself and his memories than anything else.

He turned and placed his rifle on the strong magnets on the back of his armor to hold his main weapons.

"Lets move out" He called as his visor hid his face and he turned to jog away.

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
UNSC 7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon

Vivian cocked a brow at Kai's long-winded reply when he got to the "back into hell, feet first" part. Halfway through his rant, she was already making her way out of the hatch, deciding for herself that going back the way they came wasn't the brightest idea simply because the boarding party would soon pick up their trail. Dust and sand plumed around her as she hit the ground with both feet, knees bent on impact. Standing fully erect, she came face to face with the wounded crewman.

"You okay?" she asked.

The man nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Looking at the fleeting figure that was Staff Sergeant Blacklock, Vivian shook her head. Whatever that little speech was about, she wasn't impressed. His squad was still in there, and if they were wounded then it would be her going back into the fray with him. A hospital corpsman wasn't something you just "drop off" like a bag of laundry. It was baggage that followed you around with an A/FAK, a gun, and in Nyro's particular case, endless amounts of motivation; a perfect state of no-thought control mixed with a healthy dose of optimism.

If Blacklock wanted to play hero and rush back in for his buddies, she'd be going with alongside a squad of Marines. Until then, she had one wounded to turn in to triage.

"This is Nyro," she said on comms, "Blacklock and I are coming in with wounded; count one. Check fire to the aft section of the frigate. Over."

[Astro]

████ Hours, December ██, 2547 (Military Calendar) /
Sanctuary, Hope

---

LCpl Jock McPherson
7th Marine Regiment, 1st Battalion
Tornado 2-4, Fireteam Alpha

More and more, Jock's elbows ached. Lying down in a bed of rocks was far from enjoyable. He preferred superior cover over comfort, sure, but this was beyond unreasonable; Marines were all about putting up with their superiors' shit, but Jock drew the line at getting a prostate exam from a pebble. He wasn't the Scottish fellow who indulged in the study of rocks: that was Boddfrugel. He shrugged off the feeling though, happy with the cookies that he'd acquired, ripping the opaque packet with his teeth. What were they? Chocolate chip? Gingerbread? Of course they weren't. They were fucking oatmeal. Hard as fucking nails oatmeal.

"Cheers. I think." Jock mumbled, slowly bringing the cookie to his face as if it was potentially poisoned. The cookie entered the void of tasting, lightly touching the Scot's tongue. His face screwed up like a kick to the bollocks upon chewing and tasting the catastrophic cardboard confection. A wave of crumbs, some stuck together with saliva, spat out in front of him.

He muttered something about Bellend's mother and continued eating the cookie. Regardless of taste, it was food. 

---

Sergeant Craig Allen
7th MEB, 21st Communications Battalion
Attached to Seventh Marines, First Battalion, Alpha Company

"Get that information back to the Regiment HQ as soon as we're out."

Allen simply nodded at the Staff Sergeant. That was his MO: get in, get the data, get out, give it to the Regimental Logistics Officer. Aside from that, he wondered if there was anything else on the agenda. No matter how many Covenant there were aboard the downed vessel, weren't they going to do a sweep for survivors? Were they going to blow the freighter sky high? Were they just going to cut and run? What was next for the Marine Corps deployed to the surface of the moon? Allen had heard that shit had been going down elsewhere.

"You haven't gotten us out yet, Staff."

"I noticed."

"Copy that, Staff. One-Two we're Oscar Mike!"

Back down the ladder they went, with Granger commenting on the painstaking process of laying below one by one. He wasn't wrong: climbing down vertically in a small space with a huge rucksack and a rifle whilst potentially being stalked by invisible Elites wasn't Allen's idea of a fun night out. After six decks of awkward descending, though, the Sergeant finally planted his boots down on the deck. He braced his shoulder against the bulkhead and readjusted the straps on his bag, before leading the two other members of his team out into the passageway.

"You good?" he checked with Searle and Granger. They nodded in response. Now it was just a left, a right and a hike across the plains of dead civilians in the hangar. Fun times.

[Cute Huragok]

First Lieutenant Ryan Willis
29th Tactical aviation Squadron
Pelican Apocalypse-666 (Alpha-666)

"Sorry I'm late for the party, seems like you guys had a blast." Ryan joked over the Marine frequency. "If anyone needs Evac, just say so and we'll come help out." "Also, we can help with Air support, although we aren't quite equipped for huge targets." Ryan then turned off his mic, and flew over what seemed to be a crashed Frigate. Suspicious, he turned to where he had a better view of the whole ship, just in case any surprises flew out or shot at him. "Alton, turn off all weapon locks, and Jake, go to the blood tray and man the M247." Ryan ordered his crew men, and they both nodded and said the generic "Yes sir." Jake went to the blood tray, and started loading the M247 with a large ring of bullets, while Alton keyed into the Pelican's computer to turn the weapons on.

Ryan was usually burdened with Marines to drop off, and he was surprised that he was sent for evac duty, and to provide necessary air support if needed. He sighed over the roar of the Pelican steadying in the air, and waited for a reply.

[MrKill]

[TAG: All characters

TIME-SKIP: With the UNSC fleet in ruins, and the Covenant fleets retreat to the last habitable moon in the system, the UNSC brass has decided to pull the Marines back and allow the ground engagement to be continued by UNSC Army elements. The Marines are evacuating onto the UNSCS Athenian, UNSCS Kilimanjaro and UNSCS Tassaferonga.

You may decide to post, if you want, boarding a pelican or guarding the evacuation sites but this thread has now become a 'social' thread while the mission ends. In a couple of days, a new thread 'Unit Mission: Downtime' will be posted and will remain active until the ONI and Covenant Mission's end.]

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon Killinger
Seventh Marines
Regiment HQ

"Thank you, Sergeant, for erasing that NAV data. Dismissed." John said to one Sergeant Allen after he handed the data to a intelligence officer in the Regiments H&S company. John wanted it scanned immediately for any anomalies when the file was being downloaded, as he knew the Covenant were on the ship. The fact that only a few of the special operations elites had died when an entire company of Marines were about was concerning. At the same time, though, not many casualties were received. Four Marines were found dead, and an ODST had been mutilated beyond recognition. Even his dogtags had melted from plasma impacts.

John left the Sergeant and found his son sitting down along the wall of the school. Travis looked up at him and sighed, returning his gaze towards the stars. Travis had stripped his ODST armor off and sat with his shirt over his shoulders. John felt it was best to tell him along with figuring out what was wrong, so he sat down next to his child and cleared his throat. "I'm reassigning Kyle and yourself to another unit," He said. "I think it's for the best.'

Travis nodded in understanding. "I kinda predicted that when Kyle disrespected you," He said. "Earlier today, when we were fighting for this place. I don't get why he dislikes you so much."

"Neither do I," John agreed. "But I can't have that in this unit. It looks bad on the Corps, and us as a family. Some Marines are concerned there are too many of 'us' around." The veteran added, emphasizing the 'us' part of his sentence. He watched as a pelican flared up and carried a platoon of men back into orbit. The truth was, while he didn't want to reassign his kids to another unit, the only reason they were there in the first place was so John could keep a protective eye on them.

"What unit do you think I'll go to?" Travis asked.

John grinned. "What other ODST divisions are out there?"

"105th, hey?"

"Yep."

Travis tossed a rock into nearby shrubs. "And Kyle?"

"I'm hoping his old unit will take him back, but I leave that decision to the proper pay grades that make that decision. Anyways, what's wrong with you?" John asked.

"Just in the blues," Travis responded. "Second Battalion was wasted today. Could have been me there instead."

"But it wasn't." John replied. That was also part of the problem. Marines had died today, but not a single 'Killinger' was on the casualty list. It made it look like John was keeping his kids back while other Marines did the dying part. In a way, he understood. Logical thinking after a day like this was second to angry reactions. More Marines than not would -- obviously behind his back -- create rumors that the Colonel purposefully held his kids back. Apparently Travis realized that, as he never questioned why he was being reassigned.

"Fuck it," Travis said. "It's a petty thing to be depressed about." He added.

John shook his head. "If you're thinking it means you're alive. What was that one saying? If you're stupid enough to come up with a plan and smart enough to survive it, it's not stupid?"

Travis cracked a light smile, "Something like that."

"I'm keeping Jennifer in the unit, though."

"Oh boy." Travis said with a light chuckle.

"Should I be worried?" John asked.

"Only if you like dead grunts showing up on your doorstep. She wants your approval, you weren't around much for any of our childhoods. You're something new to her, meanwhile Kyle hates you for it." Travis replied.

"Yet you all joined the Marines." John asked.

Travis took a moment to reply, "When we read about the war and how it's going, colony after colony being glassed and drafts being initiated to bolster the strength of our military, we sat down and concluded it was only a matter of time before Reach started drafting able men and women." He said, pausing. "We liked the idea of being a volunteer more than having the nick name of 'draftee'. Kyle and I wanted to be officers, quite frankly so did Adrianna, because of you."

"Me?"

"I wouldn't call you famous in the Corps," Travis said thoughtfully. "But at the Academy where you went... and us, you're one of the more popular 'products'. You've suffered some huge losses, but have come up with amazing victories despite the costs that have altered battles. Today, despite nearly a thousand Marines dying, you held a line until the Army could push back and gathered information on a NAV leak that may save another colony."

"At the cost of hundreds of civilians in what will be classified as a defeat," John corrected. They had lost the city, and with it, the civilians it contained. "I'll never be able to forgive myself for the men that died today." John added. He inhaled sharply before exhaling smoothly. Yeah he thought. One thousand casualties.

"The city evacuated more than one hundred thousand people, dad." Travis said. "I'd say that's a success."

John considered his orders: To hold a line. Technically, he failed when he pulled those lines back after the city was lost. However, another objective was to hold the town that was in a strategical position between mountains. This town, when the Army arrived to reinforce it, would be vital to regaining the city and evacuating the civilians that remained. Maybe Travis was right, or maybe John would go back to a demotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Either way, four thousand Marines still depended on him.

Once the UNSC Fleet had ordered the emergency evacuation of all Marine Forces John recalled his deployed units. Travis stood up, nodded to his father and left without saying a word. John, on the other hand, slumped more into the wall and watched as another pelican lifted off and disappeared into the sky. The airspace was bristling with activity, but it was surprisingly quiet as pelicans flew around a CAP formation before coming in for a landing and loading up what they could.

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
UNSC 7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon

Vivians gloved hands were beginning to tack together with the corn syrup consistency of blood matting between her fingers, causing them to stumble over eachother as she did her best to fasten a wet burn dressing to her patient's abdomen. After irrigating it with saline and applying biofoam, the synthetic honey-based pad stubbornly clung to her hands, trying to peel itself away and follow her every time she pulled back.

"Pesky little..." She grumbled before stopping herself as to not disturb the Marine in her care. Luckily, the woman was on her way to being we'll rested between the pain medicine and lack of chaos in the middle of the evac zone's sturdier-than-a-tent triage unit. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a nearby dose of saline, the size of which was relatable to an airline bottle of vodka but not as much fun, and dampened the dressing some more at the edges. Finally, she was able to tape it in place and pull away without a fuss. Plasma really did something awful to living tissue and blood. The best part of removing her gloves was getting rid of the gluey texture of molten skin.

Discarding them with ease, Vivian leaned over the Marine's face. "Private Wong, can you hear me?" No response. She placed her fingers to the woman's wrist, finding the nitch in her forearm with her two fingers. Her pulse was stronger than it was before. With a breath of relief, Nyro spoke again. "Agatha? Can you look at me?"

Slowly, the young Marine opened her eyes. Vivian gave her a hopeful smile, getting a weaker one in return. "You're all set," she said, pulling a matted strand of the girl's black hair away from her cheek. "The next Pelican out is yours."

With that, Nyro backed off slowly, took another breath and waved across the ad-hoc landing pad to the next evac crew. The bird's Crew Chief approached with another Marine in tow. After moving Wong to a disposable stretcher, they carried her off, up the blood tray, and into the blackened cabin of the dropship.

Vivian let out a sigh and allowed her hands to fall to her sides. "Off to nowhere..."

[LaxKnight]

LCPL Steven 'Slim' Valky
4th Transport Attached to 1/7
Picking Up and Moving Out

The word was out. "We're pulling out?" Slim asked.

"Yep," replied his fellow crew chief and best friend, LCPL Jenny Summers, "We're getting out of here and leaving it to the Army."

"The fucking Army? You kidding me? We're leaving it up to the fucking Army to fight off the fucking aliens? Wow that sucks," he said, "We're leaving them high and dry. They can't handle the Covies. WE can barely do and the Navy sure as fuck can't. They're fucked."

"Tell me about it."

"I mean, I'm just a Lance Corporal and all but it seems like were leaving them to their death sentence while we're getting out before things go to complete shit."

Only the sound of engines running filled the air as the two friends dwelt on how bad the situation was until the pilot spoke over ICS. "We're picking up a tank. ETA 2 minutes. Get ready," they said.

The two crew chiefs got into position as Slim got on the gun and Summers sat in the crew seat behind a console. "60 seconds," the pilot called.

Slim looked toward the ground until the flew over their target. The Scorpion Tank seemed to be inactive as its driver was standing on top of it waving to the bird. They set down first near the tank so they can pick up the passenger. Slim waved for the tanker to board. He saw them take a seat and strap in like a practiced pro. "Passenger strapped and good to go. Now for the hardware," Slim said over ICS.

As the Pelican rose into the air, he moved the gun off the ramp and into the cabin. There was no need for it since the tank will be taking up the back. The bird then positioned itself over the tank and slowly lowered itself down. "A little to the left, sir," Slim said as he looked out over the ramp directed them. He continued to do so until they were ten feet over the top of the tank.

"Summers, you're a go," he said.

Giving a thumbs up, Jenny did her work at the console. Slim saw a small hoist lower itself then latch itself securely onto the tank. "Hoist attached. Lower the bird," she said.

With caution the slowly lowered itself until there was a satisfying clunk as the tank was grabbed by a second set of clamps. "Cargo fully secured," Jenny reported.

"All lights green. We're off," the pilot replied. The Pelican once again took to the skies, a bit slower this time as it now carried a large bit of tank on it.


Slim took a seat across from the tanker. It was a little difficult to tell at first but he could tell they were a woman. However that is not what got his attention. "Jenny, check out her IFF tag," Slim said over a private com channel.

Trying to be as causal as possible, the female crew chief looked over then straightened up real quick. "Holy shit! Another one?"

"I know right?" Slim replied, "You think she's one of them?"

"Only one way to find out."


Slim looked to the tanker then opened a channel to her. "Hey, are you related to..."

"Yes," the woman interrupted.

"I knew it. How many of you guys are there?" he asked.

"Only five of us in the service though my sister is questionable."

"I thought you guys were all officers," Summers piped up.

The tanker shifted uncomfortably, getting defensive. "I wanted to stand out. Do something different. And drive tanks. Officers don't really drive tanks," she rebuffed.

"Ah. The black sheep," Summers remarked.

"Am not! Just different." 

"I've heard of you. The Killinger tanker who got NJPed twice. Being the only one Ninja Punched totally qualifies you as the black sheep. Right Slim?"


The male crew chief was too overwhelmed by the speed of the dialogue between the two women to follow the conversation. When the eyes were on him he began to feel nervous, like some major decision has befallen on him. Summers' eyes narrowed when he hesitated. "Right?" she said, trying to encourage an answer from him.

Slim eyes looked between the two women as they both looked expectantly at him. His eyes settled on the Killinger. Now that he actually looked at her, he saw how attractive she was even underneath the tanker suit. She had a good body, he can tell even in her slightly baggy suit. He can see through her clear helmet visor and saw that she had lovely eyes that reminded him of warm, delicious hot cocoa his grandma used to make. He felt good inside.
"Slim?"

The voice of his fellow crew chief snapped him out of it. "Huh? Sorry I was...zoning out," he said, not really sure what else to say.

"UHHH!" Summers rolled her eyes, "You're hopeless."

"No, I'm just know not to get involved in fight between women," he countered with a sly smirk.

While a scowl formed behind Summers' helmet, the Killinger replied, "Smart man."


There was silence in the cabin for a moment until Slim decided to break the tension. "You're the third Killinger I met," he said.

He saw an eyebrow raise in her helmet. "Really?" Jenny said, "Who was the first?"

"You're dad. I met when I first boarded the ship. Then I was crew chief for your brother LT Kyle getting here," he said.

"So you met the Original and the Rebel then."

"Which one are you?"

"Apparently the Black Sheep."

That incited a chuckle from both of them. "Hey, black is always in," Slim said.

"I guess," the tanker replied.


"Two minutes till drop off," the pilot said over the com.

"Yes sir," both Slim and Summers said.

The Pelican approached a landing zone and lowered itself until it was roughly ten feet above the air. Seeing no one around to get injured, Slim gave Summers the thumbs up and she released the clamp. The tank bounced slightly before finally settling on the ground. "Cargo dropped. We're clear," Slim relayed.

"Next stop, the school," the pilot said. 

Both the crew chiefs instantly looked at Killinger. She looked down in slight embarrassment. They all knew why they were going there. It was a matter of moments until they arrived at the LZ. There were several other Pelicans there as they arrived to pick up troops to pull out from this doomed battle. Finding a spot to settle down, they landed. The tanker could spy her father leaning against a wall. "Thanks for the ride. Hopefully I'll see you around," Jenny Killinger said before exiting the craft to meet her father. Slim watched after her. 

"We're assigned to pick up the Colonel once he's ready," the pilot said over ICS.

Looks like they'll see her again after all.

[rookie425]

HA Vivian Nyro
UNSC 7th Marines, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 2nd Platoon
Priorities and Negligence

With the triage thinning out on casualties, Vivian had found some time to herself on a lonely curb at the elementary school entrance accompanied by the overhead rumble of dropship engines. Helmet at her side, the corpsman enjoyed the homely memory of waiting to be picked up while snacking on a les than healthy after school treat. Now wasn't too different, having been waiting on essential crew to be cleared for departure. Only this time, instead of her dad driving up in a decommissioned police Genet, it'd likely be someone from second platoon in the louder and less stylish hog, and instead of candy she found comfort in chewing on a chocolate protein bar. Its chalk and coco powder taste wasn't as good as caramel wrapped nugent, but it made her feel good after the tiresome day of near death and treating the dead and dying.

Ironically, her kill count was at zero, subsequently it had to do with the fact that she hadn't fired a single shot. Just as she thought she wouldn't have to clean a weapon, Vivian looked at the late Private Gul's MA5C beside her. Just from looking at its ammunition counter, he had fired enough rounds to need a scrub down. She didn't know how many magazines he had gone through before they found him either. She would get around to it as courtesy to the quartermaster before turning the weapon in.

"Mind if I join you?" Mav said.

Nyro tilted her head up and gave him a nod. The man adjusted the rifle strap over his shoulder and sat down beside her, his collective kit making a soft rattle against his titanium ceramic armor. "Sorry you didn't have any coverage in the ship. Things got complicated."

Vivian simply shook her head. "It's alright." She held her half-eaten meal replacement out in offering.

Mav courteously declined with the wave of a hand. "How was the maze?"

A smirk betrayed her attempt to hide amusement. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, even though he was referring to the downed ship. Creeping through the dark with spec ops wasn't the most fun, but it made her feel accomplished to have survived it with wounded and a member of the notoriously danger prone ODSTs.

"Something else. Would have been easier to get out with you guys, but then I wouldn't have been able to treat that other guy we found."

Mav stared at the pavement between his feet, elbows rested on his knees. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Without looking her way, he spoke in quick succession. "Why didn't you?"

Nyro could feel a tension in his voice now. Concern maybe, but it sounded like anger was mixed into it. "I had a job to do."

"You're attached to our company, not the Helljumpers."

"I'm sorry...did I do something wrong?"

Mav pried his eyes off the ground and looked forward at a huddle of Marines conversing outside the next school. "That order that was put out on comms earlier, that one about treating the critically wounded last in favor of those that could be combat ready, it put you on the radar a bit. Some guys weren't happy to see you treating a hand wound around that time."

Nyro scoffed, shaking her head. "Staff Sergeant Willowbay was already in my care when I got that order. Sorry if it looked like my priorities were shifted to reverse triage."

"I'm just saying...when you went in the with 153rd it made a few people question your loyalties."

At this, Vivian furrowed her brow and shot Mav an offended glance. "That's not how I work. If I did treat the superficial wounds then how much time would I have saved in our assault time? Minutes at the cost of treatable fatalities."

"That's not--"

"If someone needs my help, they'll get it. There's no them and us, no cutting corners. That's negligence and everyone pays for it."

Mav fell silent. His hands moved a few times and he opened his mouth to speak a few times. Eventually, Nyro just accepted that he was regretting his decision to confront her and started collecting her gear. "I'll see you around, Brecher," she said flatly as she donned her helmet, right-faced, and walked on to find another sanctuary.

[MrKill]

// This thread has been closed!

All Marine forces successfully evacuated to waiting UNSC ships. Most of the Regiment landed on the UNSCS Tassaferonga while a smaller portion landed on the damaged UNSCS Athenian. Some longswords, pelicans and albatrosses can refuel at the UNSCS Kilimanjaro before departing to their parent ships.