onepassingnight | Second Journey

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Second Journey :: The Role

"Contacts. Stand by."

The Master Chief knew there were probably more than a hundred of them -- Motion sensors were off the scale. He wanted to see them for himself, though; his years made that lesson clear: 'Machines break. Eyes don't'.

The Spartans that composed his team for the moment covered his sides, each of them with varying patience inside their MJOLNIR suits of armor. Someone had once commented that they looked like Greek war gods in the armor... But his Spartans were far more effective and ruthless than Homer's gods had ever been.

He snaked the fiber-optic probe up and over the three-meter-high stone ridge. When it was in place, the Master Chief linked it to his helmet's HUD. On the other side he saw a valley with eroded rock walls and a river meandering through it... And camped along the banks were hundreds of Grunts, Jackals, Brutes, and Elites, with a handful of pairs of Hunters around the camp.

The Master Chief detached the optics cable, and took a step back from the rock wall. He passed the tactical information along his companions over a secure COM channel. Like him, encased in battle armor easily weighting half a ton. All armed with energy shields protecting them from the plasma, enough speed not to be even noticed in the seconds they all ran exposed on the field, and enough strength to toss even the biggest Hunter among them.

"Are the mines set?"

This is what being a Spartan is like. When two of them against a almost a thousand of them are poor odds for their enemies.

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"Do we even need them for such a pathetic group of enemies?" SPARTAN-031, arrogant and eager for battle as ever, couldn't resist the jab, with a light and careless lilt to her voice. After all, wasn't a secure COM channel for the purpose of showing off? (Alright, maybe not.)

Of course, the mines were set. She may have been loud, but she was good at what she did. They were perfectly set for maximum impact based on their tactical information. They should be able to take out plenty with this alone.

And they were not alone. Her helmet turned towards the Master Chief. She was ready for the moment it was time to begin the battle. She was ready to show the enemy her power, and win.

Edited 2012-07-09 08:35 (UTC)

"Saves ammo."

His helmet turns to her, seeing rank and name displayed immediately upon looking at her. Even for a Spartan, Ami was ruthless - just as she was brilliant. He wouldn't have asked her to do it if she wouldn't do it. While several marines and Spartans were willing to make them all suffer as much as the 105th Drop Jet Platoon did, he didn't think Ami would receive as much of an excuse to do it.

It still makes him happy. It's a sense of familiarity he had not felt in so long. Being beside another MJOLNIR.

He brings over the detonator. He flashes an amber acknowledgement light on her HUD -- Spartan language to tell her to wait.

"On my mark."

There's a second before the helmet dips in a slow nod. She's eager for the signal, but her stance is steady and there's no sign she'll move ahead of it. A feeling of anticipation courses through her like a stiff current.

It's all she ever asked for, in the soldier's life she never chose for herself: someone else fighting at her side, someone who can be relied on, not to be alone in the battle. It might be an even stronger feeling than the thrill of battle itself.

She's not foolish enough not to stay alert, or to let down her guard, even with her confidence; but she's ready to unleash the wrath of the gods they've been compared to on these enemies who would damage this planet. Give her the signal.

Edited 2012-07-10 06:15 (UTC)

A Covenant Elite kicks a Grunt to return to its' group as soon as he sees it slacking off -- before he stops when he notices a humming beneath the dirt. One hood attempts to move off dirt. A four-fingered hand removes a heavy rock from the element. It's dug deep. He moves to call three Grunts--

Dirt flies as a cilinder marking a napalm fougasse ejects from the ground in front of the creature.

The Elite spreads his jaws to scream a warning as the cylinder flies in front of him. Its' explosion shreds him and everything within a radii of fifteen meters in shrapnels and napalm, before the rest of the mines follow.

Amidst alien screams of alert, one name turns common, translated behind the Spartans' head-up displays:

Demon.

Time slows down to a crawl. Grunts, Elites, and shrapnels move too slowly in front of the Spartans.

He bolts forward.

"Go."

"Should I take orders from a demon?" Of course, by the time she makes the flippant joke, she's already running at top speed.

It feels like flying. Something tells her she should be used to the responses and enhancements - and the suit - but the dizzying speed (she'd be a rival for Uranus like this), the strength (could even Jupiter match it?)... She's not used to them; she wants them. She'll yearn for them.

Her whole body responds better. It feels like she could run away, away, away- except she has no intention of running away from this. Instead, she's running right into the thick of the fighting.

SPARTAN-117 trails closely behind her, firing, running, -flying- in the middle of enemies, shrapnels, explosions, and even plasma bolts that moved awfully slow around him. Not as a teammate of the Petty Officer, but as an extension of her own body, and her of his own. One mind in two bodies.

One Elite Colonel primes a plasma sword in front of them -- at the same time a Minor and three Grunts move from behind a rock to flank them.

"Says the witch."

He tears down its' shields -- and turns around SPARTAN-031 as he grabs a grenade.

"You'd better get places ready!" comes the next remark, deliberately ignoring the name she's been given. "Because, I'll be sending these guys to just where a demon lives."

The witch maneuvers herself into position. She has a steady aim as she leaves the Elite to the Master Chief and fires on the others, with no sign of hesitation. It's notable that she prefers the range of her weapons to closer combat even now; but she's confident in both. Of course.

As soon as one goes down, she makes certain of the kill before turning her attention to his comrades.

The green armor whirls around his partner in blue armor. A wordless note that he'll take the Colonel.

He grabs a Plasma Rifle littered over spread dirt. The Colonel leaps forward--

The massive alien gets smacked in its' face with the weapon. The Spartan grabs its' wrist to break it, sticks a grenade on its' stomach, and kicks him away in an alien scream... Several meters away.

While Ami may mock it, Spartans take the title of 'Demon' with pride.

It vanishes in a blue explosion around another group. One threat down. John turns back to Ami just as the Elite Minor falls, tossing another to shred the group of Grunts.

More Grunts and Jackals try to reorganize against them. He kills those that come within his crosshairs before they get a chance to fire, as if they were less than mosquitoes to the pair of Spartans.

A Major comes from behind the blast, blade and rifle in its' hands. The Master Chief moves to the side to attract its' attention -- He dodges the sword, and takes its' plasma rifle away with a strike to its' elbow and back.

Edited 2012-07-13 08:24 (UTC)

She finds herself capable of the same feats, as it becomes impossible to maintain the distance she prefers, and she feels the satisfying crack of the enemy's bones at her own hands. She does not stop to stare or wonder at herself; there is no time for that here.

Spartan-031 presses forward instead. Another foe goes down, another, and another. These acts have nothing to do with the graceful movements of the senshi. This is brutal efficiency.

"Is that all?" comes her taunt regarding the straggling lot still desperately trying to pull itself together, as though she's disappointed to be bought off with cheap prey.

Her boast may have come too soon, as she falls to the ground little more than a moment later, together with one of the Brutes.

They grapple for control, and Ami gropes for a sharp piece of debris from the battle's fallout. As soon as she has it, she stabs the shard into her assailant with all her might, right at a vital point. It writhes in pain, and she heaves its bulk away to hurry back to her feet and finish the creature's life.

The Elite slashes horizontally, but the Spartan ducks, twists its' arm to uselessness, and stabs it with its' own weapon.

His attention immediately turns to the ape-like monsters that towered even Spartans, and was fighting against his companion -- He tosses the plasma blade towards SPARTAN-031 to cut through the beast like soft meat. As Ami terminates the dying creature, he distracts the Brutes seeking to harm her--

He jolts to his side as a cannon's round of plasma glasses the dirt next to him. The Brutes roar and burn before dying.

The Master Chief looks at the sky. Seven Banshees arrive in formation.

"I think not."

... His visor looks at the wreckage of a tank-like Covenant vehicle overturned around an elevation. The Banshees are flying low, as well, turning around from a kilometer away as they prepare for another bombing run. He could either rob them of an AA Wraith that could still be operational, steal a Fuel Rod cannon, use one of the mines...

"How high can you jump?"

Or see if Ami likes crazy.

Her visor turns towards the Master Chief. What kind of question is that at a time like this? But she assumes he has his reasons for asking it. There's a certain amount of trust built up between them by now, surely.

"High enough to take down my prey!" she answers proudly and, because this is hardly helpful from a tactical standpoint, she adds a specific, "Six meters."

It leaves room for error. While not normally modest about her abilities these days, she has no intention of compromising their victory by giving a faulty account of herself.

Her focus turns to the approaching aircraft, and the Master Chief's intentions start to dawn on her. Is he planning to challenge them directly?

Sounds pretty good!

Edited 2012-07-13 12:33 (UTC)

"We'll do higher... I can throw you."

He bolts towards the elevation. The Squadron of banshees had just turned around, and were preparing for another assault run. From their current distance, their shots would be easily dodged by the pair of Spartans.

They are getting closer. Their shots are turning more accurate. They're speeding in fast.

The Master Chief bolts up to the hill, screeches to a halt, and turns to Ami... Ready to throw her.

Edited 2012-07-14 10:20 (UTC)

Is he serious? He certainly seems serious. Is he crazy? Well, she's been called that before, too. Her visor dips as she nods. They can do this. She prepares to jump the very moment he throws her, to utilize the full momentum of his strength.

She's quick and agile anyway, even for a Spartan. They can definitely make this plan work.

The banshees come close. Ami runs forward towards him.

Time slows down to a crawl in his eyes. Molten dirt, alien vehicles, and plasma rounds drag themselves with effort in front of him. Every step of his companion as she moves prepares him to help her on, synchronizing with everything around him -- being one with the entire battlefield.

SPARTAN-031 moves forward to him, and the Master Chief sets both hands for her to leap on from, superhuman strength with gifted armor allowing them to lift ten times their own weight.

Once the metal boot reaches his hands, he throws her over a dozen of meters in the air, and watches...

The Covenant pilot yells a curse as soon as a Spartan hits it. And struggles with half a ton of metal weighting it down.

Though they may be brutal, there's a certain effortless grace to the movements of the Spartans, too. Almost all in the same motion, Ami lands, gains access to the inside of the craft, ends the life of the pilot who screamed his own death warning, and lets the corpse fall to the ground far below. The banshee becomes hers.

The craft wavers uncertainly under her control, but she brings it to heel quickly enough to be confident of its usefulness. "I have it," she tells the Master Chief briefly, and she lets herself be grimly pleased by the thought of the squadron's reactions to the sudden betrayal of one of its ships.

"Now that it's mine, shall we let loose?" As if everything up until now has been holding back, play, and now she wants to show her true ability.

Just as soon as Ami takes over the Banshee, John resumes his assault on the forces on the ground. He doesn't show surprise when he sees a Covenant Elite smash against the ground, nor when the Banshees scatted when one of their own starts tearing through them with ease.

He covers her. An Anti-Air Wraith desperately fires away against the rogue Banshee, instead only causing further confusion as nobody really knows which one is it -- nor of the Spartan that is still on the ground.

The Master Chief bolts towards it, jumps into the deck of the tank-like machine -- and brutally bashes, bends, and cracks open the cockpit to reveal a frightened Elite.

He leaves him a grenade, before jumping back, letting the machine explode in a mist of plasma... And seeing two massive hulks descend from the lift.

Hunters.

"Want me to take them?"

Crushing them with a destroyed wraith, or melting them with plasma. Either way, those Hunters are dead.

"Go ahead!" comes back the response. "It's only fair." As if they're discussing nothing more serious than dividing up turns playing a video game, rather than who'll end two lives.

To someone who knows her, as John knows Ami, it sends another message: The Hunters don't matter to her at all. She has no personal grudge here, she's fighting them simply because they are the enemy. Spartan-031 has learned these are the easiest battles, with no regrets.

Before long, though, the others have identified the renegade ship. They organize to rid themselves of the viper in their midst, and their target careens dizzily to the ground. There is no sympathy for any partner who might be mourning her loss. They aren't pleased to have sacrificed a ship, but at least this will stop its deadly progress.

They realize their mistake when two more go down after they've eliminated what they only now recognize must have been their comrade. Well, they'd wanted a witch. And Ami can be as cunning as any witch that ever existed.

Edited 2012-07-19 11:53 (UTC)

He looks up. Ami must have used something to mess with their targeting systems, and it got them quite a lot of time, too. By the time they spot her, two banshees had been taken down already... And from within that cabin, comes a Spartan in light blue armor to tear them through.

Banshees, AA Batteries, and higher-ranking enemies had all been neutralized. It was all going well. All that was left is getting rid of the stragglers that remained. Without any solid forces to guide them, they had fallen into disarray. They could commence the second phase soon enough.

He calmly shoots a Brute that had laid wounded on the ground.

"We done here?"

Done? She wasn't particularly pleased to stop before absolute victory, or leaving even a single enemy still alive. She had been trained to be very thorough, and to make a doctor's eyes blind to the outcries of the wounded and hurting if they were on the opposite side.

In the end, their objective was enough. After only a moment's hesitation, Ami nodded, unseen, and replied over the COM link. "I'm ready."

For his part, it is not his job to make things suffer. He is there to win battles, whatever it took, and all to save his companions. For now, they were finished.

"Mission accomplished, Captain." He reported over the uplink. "Enemy neutralized."

"Excellent news." Captain Le Blanc's voice sounded over the comm channel. He sighed and added, "But we're pulling you out, Spartans."

"We're just getting started."

"Well, it's a different story up here. Move out for pickup ASAP."

He wordlessly ends the link... He stares at the massive ship above them, before walking back towards a descending dropship in the distance.

Not even being a Spartan could completely cure her tendency to question orders at this point. Ami turns to her partner.

"Chief? What's this about?" There's little to do but follow him as he starts walking, but the question and the stern voice suggest something doesn't sit right with her.

He turns his head. It was all part of something far too common of his world.

"Covenant Fleet's moving in."

He doesn't say that the fleet covering them got defeated. In this war, for all the victories Spartans achieved on the ground, it was something to be expected.

As the Pelican hovers near them, John steps in, and offers Ami a hand before the ship rises along with the Spartans, closing the hatch... and slowly revealing the skeletons of ships of the UNSC, drifting helplessly in space.

She hesitates. She understands a strategic retreat; she'd be a fool and a poor soldier if she didn't. But she hasn't seen the signs of defeat, or just how bad it is. If the Covenant is moving in, they're going the wrong direction to meet them in battle.

In the end, she gives John her hand anyway, swallowing whatever protest she might want to make until she learns more. Then she sees it: the bones and tattered remnants of what should have been their fleet. It's a sobering sight, even for her. She takes it in silently.

It's frustrating. They'd fought, and fought well- and now, for what?

There will be other places to fight.

He tells that to himself, at least. For all the places they've fought and won, the situation in space was always dire. Three human ships were needed to stand up against a single Covenant ship. It did not bode well.

Once the Pelican reaches the hangar to open its' rear hatch, Ami will not only see, but feel how conversations within crewmen end the second the suits of armor appear. In a mixture of awe, fear, and terror -- they looked just as alien as the enemies they destroyed.

The Master Chief attempts to show no reaction. He only accompanies Ami to the bridge.

It's a feeling in the air that some part of Ami knows very well. It's the same hush that often follows Kunzite as he moves among politicians and dignitaries, or lower-ranked soldiers. It's the same hush that greets Mercury if she acts on his behalf; those who receive his messenger can never immediately be sure if her presence is intended as an honor, or to bring a quick and sometimes cold end to a dispute.

Pretending not to notice it, she follows the Master Chief. She keeps her head and her pride high.

Other places to fight, he says. This is still giving ground. It won't be that easy to take back.

Second Journey :: The Role

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going with the heights you suggested. XD

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the jump out of the system might be a good wake-up stop point?

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