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 Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 9:59 pm
::: 1stSgt Freeman, York
::: UNSC Iron Sunrise
::: Unknown location; open grassland
Freeman moved the crosshairs over the Marine who'd advanced into the field. He saw the trooper make a quick hand signal which was followed by a voice on the radio. The First Sergeant acknowledged that his comrade was in position. He was going to order one or two more Marines to join the one in the field so that they could take out the Covenant patrolmen simultaneously, but there was no time to do so. The Brute and third Grunt exited the disabled vehicle. It seemed that it was two versus four. The odds were still in their favor, York decided, because their opponents did not suspect an attack. Nonetheless, they would need to plan the attack carefully.
The four Covenant patrolmen congregated in a circle and began talking. The perfect opportunity to unleash their attack.
"Okay. I'll take out the Brute and the Grunt closest to me. You take out the two Grunts closest to you. I should be able to eliminate the Brute with one or two well-placed rounds." Freeman paused and placed his crosshairs on the Brute's head. The two targets that York would be eliminating both had their backs to him. The skilled sniper began the countdown: "Three... two... one." Freeman held his breath in order to steady the rifle and pulled the trigger, paused for a moment, and fired again.
The first round entered the beast's right shoulder. Freeman's flustered adversary stumbled forward and reached for the Covenant Carbine located on its back. Just as the Brute's hand touched the weapon, the second round made contact with the back of the Brute's head, ending the genocidal monster's life.
The Grunt beside the Brute had, by this time, recognized that the unit was under attack. The Grunt dived into the grasses in hopes of avoiding the fate of his headless comrade. Freeman moved his rifle to where the Grunt had dived. The First Sergeant could not directly see the Covenant infantryman, but he was able to calculate the approximate location of the hiding Grunt. The sharpshooter pulled the trigger a third time, and saw blood fly up into the air, suggesting that the Grunt had been killed.
Freeman moved the crosshairs toward the other two Covenant troops, prepared to use the final round in his current magazine if his ally had failed to eliminate the hostiles assigned to him.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 10:16 pm
> Staff Sergeant Morre, Legix
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>>> Location: Unknown: Engaging Hostiles
Legix, once he heard the sniper rifle's round rip the air and plant firmly in the Brute's shoulder, sprung up, giving him a better shot on the two Grunts, who, had broken from one another. Lifting the MA5C, he fired seven shots at the Grunt's head, two hitting his pack, three his exposed head, and two missing. The three bullets dropped him, giving him enough time to spin around, spraying the fleeing Grunt in a sixteen shot barrage, almost all rounds piercing him, a few hitting his pack and releasing air leaks. He turned toward the Brute's body, drawing close as he double checked the body for life, lowering his AR to shoot three times.
Moving slowly, he approached the grass where the other had gone. He heard no cry, so he didn't know if it had made it or was limping away. His creeping figure pushed the brush aside, looking at the sight. The grunt had been killed with the single rifle shot, the hole from said rifle resting in the dirt like a extremely small comet. Bending over slightly, he smired, seeing a clean hole through both sides of the Grunt's body. Turning, he talked over the COM, "Nice shot, Victor One. Clean through his alien ribs. Glad to serve with a good shot for once, sir."
Moving more towards the Sniper, he looked back, giving a signal to Rick. The Private nodded, lowering his gleaming barrel to rest within its spot once more, manning the gun and becoming alert to the area again. Obviously, they didn't want any more unexpected issues. A few of the Covenant patrols had gone missing already. Any more and they might send more than a patrol for the marines.
The Sergeant paused, though. He heard something. To his left, the grunt he had shot just a moment. Then he saw it: the pack was slowly burning. With a quick sprint, he dodged away from the now-explosive alien corpse. Seconds later, its backpack blew up in a rather large splash of greenish-blue, much like a fountain, vanishing seconds later. He had to remember not to shoot the bastards in the back.
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Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 11:45 am
Chief Petty Officer Caden-072
Gunnery Sergeant Marcus O. Callahan
» ERR.UEG_1707.TIMESTAMP ANOMALY
»» UNSC Iron Sunrise
»»» Bridge
The soft sound of hushed footsteps approached the bridge while Poole, Aquinas, and Caden engaged in a less than casual conversation. Poole and Callahan were sure to have been oblivious to them, Carlson already oblivious to everything but the pain of his leg. But Caden was not, his heightened senses detecting the subtle patter of combat boots. The staccato rhythm indicated a sense of urgency, yet the time that passed between each foot-fall was negligible, a sign that whomever was moving as fast as they were was also moving carefully. These were trained professionals, honed in the art of killing and stealth; Caden could imagine these people breaching and clearing a room with ease. Even as the yellow blips appeared on his motion sensor he reacted as if they had been hostiles, moving swiftly before the Commander to shield him from danger, pulling his assault rifle from his back in the process. The Spartan held the weapon at the ready, knees slightly bent and aimed carefully at the first black helmet with reflective visor that appeared in the doorway. Caden kept his trigger finger tensed, ready to engage if one of them tried to fire.
Callahan had been busy giving Carlson a sedative for the pain so they could transport him out of the ship. Looks like Chief's gonna have to carry you outta here, bub, he thought to himself as he injected the morphine into the poor b*****d. Carlson cringed a bit as the needle went in, but it began to sooth the pain almost as quickly as it had come. He left the Ensign sitting up against the command chair sobbing to himself. It was guys like these that made the Gunny happy to have seen ground combat. You could be scared, you could have s**t your pants with terror even, but you never let it affect you when the men and women to your left and right needed you. He'd seen greenhorns on the battlefield choke before, costing somebody their life. He had almost shot a Private for being incompetent. As he lifted his head up and grabbed his rifle he spotted movement from the door, noticing that the Spartan had jumped in front of Poole. Callahan crouched down and took aim, all his thoughts of young F.N.G.'s dissipating like a mist in the sun.
"Marcus? What the ******** are you doing here?"
The Gunny kept crouched for a second, his finger applying pressure to the trigger. Slowly he lowered the assault rifle and stood, taking his finger off the trigger, his brow furrowed. He knew that voice.
"Scotty, you swifty lil'b*****d, that you?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 5:29 pm
1stSgt Mitchell, Scott P.
> >>ERR.UEG_1707.TIMESTAMP ANOMALY<<
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Unknown Stellar Coordinates
Mitchell depolarized his helmet and showed off his big stupid grin to the Officers. Technically this… space station thing was a combat zone, so he didn’t salute the Commander or the unnamed Ensign. He turned and stood a little straighter, but frankly, he wouldn’t have cared if it had been Admiral Cole himself standing there! Marcus ******** Callahan! God damn. The last time Mitchell had seen Callahan was in 2540, when he opted to join the ODSTs. And now, twelve years later here they were on this strange alien artifact. What were the odds? The Trooper stepped forward, lowered his M7S and took off his helmet, still smiling like an idiot. In an uncharacteristic move, Mitchell walked forward and embraced the Gunnery Sergeant with his right arm. He placed his hand on Callahan’s shoulder and spoke with a smile.
”Look at you! A Gunnery Sergeant and still not a speck of gray! How’ve you been keeping?”
Mitchell’s hair was close cropped and mostly gray. He had the unfortunate genes that started to rob his hair of color by 30. In an age of gene therapy and designer babies, it was a wonder that he was graying at all! Of course, the constant stress of fighting a near xenophobic alien conglomerate probably didn’t help much. He’d still spent a hell of a lot of time in Cryo though, and that had knocked a few years off of his biological age. Of course, he still looked fifty from the neck up.
Mitchell’s enthusiasm waned just enough for him to remember that he was, in fact, a professional Marine. His hands dropped to his sides and he stood at attention, holding his helmet cradled under his left armpit.
”Er… Fire Team Echo reporting as ordered sir.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 9:21 pm
::: 1stSgt Freeman, York
::: UNSC Iron Sunrise
::: Unknown location; open grassland
"Good," Freeman uttered into the COM after noting that his ally had successfully eliminated the pair of Grunts.
Freeman slung his rifle over his shoulder so that it rested diagonally across his back. He stood up and jogged lightly toward the lone Marine. As he descended the lush ridge, Freeman saw a small, blueish explosion near his collaborator. Perhaps a Plasma Grenade. Truthfully, he was unable to identify the source of the explosion, but decided that the small blast wasn't important. Where it had come from mattered not. The Marine was fine and they clearly had bigger problems. They were on a peculiar, flower-resembling construct inhabited by Covenant soldiers and the UNSC personnel were scattered across the structure with, as far as York knew, no rally point.
It wasn't the first time York had been in a difficult situation. He'd survived many battles, dealt with many situations. Freeman was still alive because he was confident, calm, and poised under almost any circumstances. This situation was not much different. Freeman would need to remain composed if he wanted to survive. He was damn good at that.
As he reached the other Marine, the First Sergeant slowed to a halt. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that one Grunt's body was no longer intact; its pack had exploded. That, Freeman ascertained, was where the blast had come from. The Marine must have hit the Grunt's pack when firing upon it.
Freeman gave the trooper a quick nod of acknowledgement and approval and said to his teammate in his usual deep, authoritative, confident voice, "First Sergeant York Freeman. Thanks for the assist, soldier."
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Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 9:39 pm
> Staff Sergeant Morre, Legix
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>>> Location: Unknown: Pod Crash Site-Victor
With a quick, two-fingered salute, the Sergeant spoke up, "Staff Sergeant Legix Morre, sir. And it was no problem, especially since I get to kill a few Cov's..." Turning, he motioned in the direction of the pod, "Mind if my boys grab some supplies from the crash site? More guns, ammo, and medical gear we got, the better, sir." He turned slowly to face the Prowlers, moving at a rather fair pace, so he could talk with the Sergeant as they moved back to their ride. With one hand, he let his MA5C's current clip fall into his hand, putting it back on his belt. From it, he pulled one of his last two fresh ones. He had, in total, near ninety shots left. Not too many.
He turned his head slightly to keep focused on York, finishing his question, "Also, sir, we've got an encampment just a little down the road. It's more secure than here, but, so far, it was all we could bunker down with. We've got about a total of eleven men, sir. Not too many, mostly rooks, and most of us are rather low on ammunition. Almost none of us have frags, while the ones who do only got one or two. And that, sir, is our current status at our little base camp." He was hoping, with this information, York could work with Richard and himself to establish a good plan to proceed into the battle with. The hit-and-run guerilla warfare they had been doing since Morre's squad got away wasn't going to hold up much longer at the rate the Covenant were showing up.
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Posted: Sun Dec 20, 2009 6:19 am
Kumar, Whitney // E-5
> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>>Sunrise. The Commander's Deck.
Whitney arrived on deck a few seconds after Mitchell. She never thought the first time she came here would be when the ship had crashed on some alien construct. It just blew her mind away, she took notice of the Spartan, then to Poole. She stood up straight, and watched Mitchell have his man love moment, that wasn't funny at all, it was just good friends being stupid in front of an officer. Not exactly a good impression in front of a Commander, who looked like he had seen better days. She took off her helmet, seeing as Mitchell did. But still the M7S was at the ready held by her right hand. She knew if they stayed to long, they would get found out by something.
"Uh---" She realized if she said anything she would probably get, well, to many scenarios ran through her head and she got a bit dizzy. Well, it seemed Mitchell shock off his friendly goof-off side and gave attention to the Commander. She was eager to know how they would get this "Vee Eye Pee" out of here.
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Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2009 5:05 pm
::: 1stSgt Freeman, York
::: UNSC Iron Sunrise
::: Unknown location; open grassland
Freeman nodded at his no longer anonymous comrade as the Marine who'd helped him eliminate the Covenant patrol introduced himself. When the soldier turned and began walking toward the commandeered Prowlers, Freeman walked, or limped rather, alongside him and continued listening silently to Staff Sergeant Morre as he inquired about scavenging weapons, ammunition, medical gear, and other supplies from the crash site and explained the makeshift encampment that he and several other survivors had managed to put together.
When Legix's somewhat long speech ended, Freeman paused to think for a moment, still ignoring the pain in his leg to the best of his ability. Before long, he replied, "First I'm going to contact Fire Team Echo via pod radio... see if I can get an update on our current status. Long as Echo has no objections, I'll come along with you to your makeshift camp. Take whatever you want from the crash site. I've taken what I need."
By this time, Freeman and Morre had reached the Prowlers and the First Sergeant gave a nod to the soldiers there, then, seeing as he felt that he had nothing more to say to any of the other UNSC soldiers, turned on his heel and began walking back to the Bumblebee Escape Pod. He looked down at the gash in his leg that had been temporarily repaired by Biofoam. If Echo did allow the First Sergeant to join the party of survivors and journey with them to their small base camp, Freeman would surely seek proper medical attention. He hoped that one of the eleven members of Staff Sergeant Legix's party was a medic or surgeon of some sort. The effects of Biofoam were interim. Freeman cast the thoughts out of his mind; he knew that his wound was not an extremely serious one. He could wait a little while, if necessary.
The journey from the road to the Bumblebee was not a long one, and so he didn't spend much time thinking about his injury. The distance between the disabled Bumblebee and the commandeered Covenant vehicles was not a great one by any means. First Sergeant Freeman reached the crashed escape pod, entered it, and seated himself yet another time in the pilot's chair before the controls and radio. Blood covered the chair and a relatively large pool of blood had formed at the foot of the seat where the pilot's carcass could be found. Freeman had seen so much blood during his service that he did not even notice.
"Come in Fire Team Echo. Come in. This is Victor Whiskey Tango One-Three. Do you read?" Freeman said.
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Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2009 12:39 am
:/{ Hand of Perdition, Special Operations Officer; Zhar Vak 'Kuvamee
:/{ Mission Date - 0097"
:/{ Crashed Human Starship
Outgunned, outnumbered, and quite possibly outmaneuvered, Zhar Vak 'Kuvamee was in much more than simply a hostile environment, hiding within plain sight at the far end of the bridge. He had snuck onto the ship some time ago and had finally found a logical path taking him toward the front of the vessel, eventually to where his prize lay in waiting for him to claim. Unfortunately, even the best laid plans go awry, as he had come to realize, when a Demon appeared upon the bridge only moments after he navigated the flaming ruins of the vessel. Now, huddled in a dark corner, still sporting active camouflage to remain hidden, he could only wait for the unarmored human to step near enough to him so he could take the fragile man into his custody. The Hierarchs would not tolerate failure now, and with his people standing on a very thin line between heresy and an uprising, he was their last hope to reclaim a semblance of the Sangheili's dignity and respect.
'A dozen meters stand between me and my prize. Patience, you are an officer and an operative of the Hierarchs, be vigilant in your ways.' Zhar silently echoed these thoughts over and over again to keep himself from acting out of turn and doing something stupid or rash. Trained to perform to perfection and never fail, he began to find himself in a trap laid by his own beliefs. Between the lies of the Prophets and the wary dictations of the Council, he could no longer hold himself in high regard as a tool of the Hierarchs. His days of being a 'loyal instrument to the Gods' were very quickly coming to an end and he couldn't see much of a future except to become entangled in a civil war within the same war his people had waged against Humanity. Could these simple, fragile creatures hold some value of partnership, or would his people burn for the transgressions he had inflicted upon Humankind? Could they forgive, and turn a enemy whose leash has been far too tightened into an ally worthy of their sympathy? Perhaps his actions here today could change the war in his people's favor. Perhaps he wasn't meant to bring his people to light in the Prophets eyes - what if his role to play was to harbor some treaty with the humans? Such heresy, and yet he knew the fate his brothers were soon to befall, how could he stand idly by and watch the Sangheili burn?
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 2:42 am
Corporal Brown, John
// UNSC Iron Sunrise
// Break in wooded terrain
With his gun down John opened into the clearing, giving the all clear. He hung his shotgun down from his neck by the wide black strap and waded through the newly torn grassland. John's boot soles fell through the slightly suspended earth. It was almost if the land had been plowed by scrap metal. Still, he continued through the roughed hard pack, carefully and cautiously.
After another quarter of a kilometer, he neared the Marine encampment. His steps through the grass brushed the remaining black earth from his boots. As John entered the vicinity of the camp, he pushed his hand down against the butt of his weapon making the strap taught against his shoulder. John straightened up his posture and addressed the obvious zookeeper.
"Corporal Brown sir. I've got a few men for your campfire." John's tone grew more serious as he once again realized the extent of their situation. He spoke once again, more heavyhearted. "What's the situation on the brass hat? I expect the pride of the Navy is all over the Commander? Any word on those goons, sir?"
John expected the Staff Sergeant to tell him that everything seemed to be under control, that the ODST would bring Poole to us and we would stand firm and waste as many rounds shooting Covies off their a** as necessary. Though after that, what? The only option seemed to be the ride they came in on, but that probably wasn't possible. The Corporal looked around. How would they get off this? But first of all, what the ******** was "this"? A large spherical figure caught his eye.
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 9:13 am
Commander Andrew Poole
Chief Petty Officer Caden-072
Gunnery Sergeant Marcus Callahan
» ERR.UEG_1707.TIMESTAMP ANOMALY
»» UNSC Iron Sunrise Crash Site
»»» Bridge
Poole simply watched as the events unfolded before his eyes, the large armored figure propelling himself before him like a large shield and the ODSTs flooding into the bridge. Guns were drawn and both Caden-072 and Callahan were prepared to fight against all threats, and there was no way of knowing what was going to happen now that the Sunrise was stuck on this structure. Even through the mind numbing pain the thought dealt the Commander a swift emotional blow. This is it, he thought. I've finally lost 'er. A sense of duty quickly kicked aside his sense of dread, the need to in charge - in command of something taking hold. Poole grimaced as the Sergeant and Gunny embraced each other, displeased with the lack of professionalism displayed.
"Look at you! A Gunnery Sergeant and still not a speck of gray! How've you been keeping?"
"Ooh, do I have some stories for you, mi'boy," said Callahan who had a big grin plastered on his face. The Commander glared over at him, catching the Gunny's eye who immediately got the hint. "I'll... tell you all about that later though."
Andrew placed his hand upon the Spartans armor who glanced down and stepped to his left out of the Commander's way. Poole was cradling his injured arm, but even though he was physically injured his sense of duty wasn't. Like these troopers he had a job to do. Mitchell snapped to attention before him, his figure rigid, the professionalism flooding back into the man.
"Er... Fire Team Echo reporting as ordered sir," said the trooper. Because Poole wasn't much taller than the average Marine he let his worn eyes and rigid jaw define who was in charge. He would be damned if he let the chain of command go to s**t, even in a situation as bad as this. The Commander was well aware that all eyes were on him, except for the camouflaged elite who remained hidden and undetected. Even the Spartan had turned his head to look at the Commander. If Andrew had turned and looked up at the armored warrior he would have been looking right into his golden reflection, disgusted by how mangled he actually looked.
"Glad you could make it, Trooper. We need to get off this ship," he said, emphasizing his last three words.
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 10:59 am
1stSgt Mitchell, Scott P.
> >>ERR.UEG_1707.TIMESTAMP ANOMALY<<
>> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>> Unknown Stellar Coordinates
“Yes sir. We have transport waiting.”
Mitchell was ashamed by his lack of professionalism in front of a senior officer, but he hadn’t seen Callahan since he’d joined the ODSTs. It was still good to see him, really, really good to see him. Although Mitchell had forgotten Callahan’s… charming… penchant for calling him “mi’boy.” They’d definitely have a nice long talk later. For now though, the Commander was right. They needed to get the hell off of the Iron Sunrise.
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2009 6:04 am
Kumar, Whitney // E-5
> UNSC Iron Sunrise
>>Sunrise. The Commander's Deck.
"Commander sir! If I may be so bold as to recommend you be--" Whitney paused and stepped forward a bit, this was a time of war, it was no time to sit around and chit chat. "--Recommend you be carried by the Spartan." She was hesitant, but she needed to say it. If the Spartan carried out Poole, they would be out of the ship faster than they got in. She looked at the golden visor of the Spartan, then back at Poole, and then to Mitchell. She would probably get her head bitten off by one of them.
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2009 6:52 pm
Commander Andrew Poole
> UNSC Iron Sunrise: Crash Site: Bridge
> ERR.UEG_1707.TIMESTAMP ANOMALY
Poole's eyes widened slightly at the female ODST's suggestion. What the hell was her name again? Oh. Right. Kumar. His gray eyes immediately narrowed, and his eyebrows pressed together, one raised just slightly.
"How stupid are you, Sergeant? My ******** arm is broken. Not my leg, not my spine. I can walk damn fine you idiot." Giving his awkwardly shaped limb a little wiggle, just to prove his point, he took the pistol that he'd been given and tapped the butt of it against his head.
"Use your brain. If he were to carry helpless little me, and by some chance this ship already had Covenant inside of it, then who do you think would be the biggest asset if we encountered them? Take a wild guess."
With that, he started towards the door out of the bridge. The sudden 'pissed off' aura nearly radiated off of the Commander as he walked.
"Get us the hell out of here. Callahan, Kumar, help Carlson. Spartan, take point. Mitchell, right behind him. Compton, take the rear. Aquinas, find the transport."
"Yes sir...NAV point up. Should take a bit longer than usual to get to the hangar, seeing both your conditions."
"Quickest route?"
"Yes sir."
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Posted: Fri Jan 01, 2010 12:53 pm
::: 1stSgt Freeman, York
::: UNSC Iron Sunrise
::: Unknown location; open grassland
Freeman stood up, releasing a short sigh as he got to his feet. He stepped over the corpse of the pilot and left the Bumblebee Escape Pod, accepting the disappointing fact that the members of Fire Team Echo could not be reached at that time. Freeman walked at a moderate speed toward the commandeered Covenant vehicles where the other surviving UNSC personnel were waiting.
As he came to the road, Freeman stopped and in a leisurely manner adjusted the position of his sniper rifle so that it would rest a bit more comfortably. He looked down the road in the direction from which the other UNSC Marines had come. He saw no Covenant, no other UNSC personnel... nothing at all but shrubs and a long dirt path. He looked down the road in the opposite direction. Less than one hundred yards away the road came to a sudden end; grasses, vines, and bushes had claimed that part of the road.
Freeman said to the other Marines, "Alright. I'm receiving no response from Fire Team Echo. I take it that the radio of your escape pod is still intact and functioning at full capacity." Freeman did not wait for one of the Marines to confirm the previous statement, but instead simply continued, "Good. Once you've all scavenged some supplies from my Bumblebee Escape Pod, we can proceed to your encampment of sorts. Go ahead and take whatever you want. I have what I need. Double time it. We don't want another Covenant patrol coming along and calling for backup. We can't take on a hundred of those bastards."
Freeman motioned for the other Marines to advance to the crashed vessel. He himself turned back toward the pod, planted his feet firmly, and bowed his head in reverence, honoring his fallen comrades who lie dead inside the Bumblebee. It was not often that Freeman was able to do this; when his allies died during combat he could not stop to show respect for them. But this was one of the rare times when there were no pressing matters to prevent him from offering a moment of silence for his fallen brothers.
After a few seconds, Freeman lifted his head and waited patiently for the others to be ready to move out.
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