ODST - Tales from Hell
Time/Date Stamp: 9/19/2552
Location: UNSC Pillar of Autumn, in orbit around unknown alien construct
Lance Corporal Michael Quinn vaulted over the railing, M6D clutched in a death grip. Ahead of him, dozens of other ODSTs were climbing into their pods in preparation for a combat insertion. Behind him, Quinn could hear and feel the explosion of a plasma grenade reverberate through the floor; the whine of plasma fire accompanied it, along with the stuttering noise of assault rifles. Running past the loaded pods, Quinn climbed into his own and closed the hatch. As he ran through the checklist, Major Silva's voice came through the radio, giving the old“Feet First” joke. Having heard it before, Quinn chose to ignore it while he ran through the pre-drop checklist. The ODST pod shot down and out of the tube like a bullet, accompanied by the others from Quinn's squad. The HEV shook like a thing possessed as it plummeted downward -a stray thought caused Quinn to crane his neck down. “What is that thing?” “I don't know,” someone replied, “but we're landing on it.” Shrugging as best he could in his armor, the ODST withdrew a tiny data chip and connected it to the comm. Two clicks later, the Helljumper anthem blasted out across the entire ODST frequency. Strictly non-regulation, but for some reason the Major chose to ignore it. Which was fine with Quinn, as for some reason the tinny music always helped him loosen up. The chute slowed the pod down, along with the booster jets, but it still landed with a heavy thud. Kicking the hatch open, Quinn yanked out his rifle, ammo, a field pack, and the data chip, which he tucked in his pocket. Around him, his fellow troopers were grabbing their own gear. As the squad's sniper, Quinn got to forgo the standard MA5B assault rifle in favor of the S2-AM sniper rifle, which he held cradled in his arms as he caught up with the others. The shrieking sound of an incoming Banshee turned heads. “Incoming bogey, keep your eyes peeled,” Sergeant Graham hollered. As the alien aircraft came up over the crest of the hill behind them, two ODSTs turned and fired. The 'shee ran into a hail of 7.62mm rounds and flipped over, plowing into the ground. “Let's get a move on, people, there's more where that came from!” Graham hollered again. The sergeant had only two tones: holler and higher. “Quinn, take Wolfe, I want the two of you on that ledge over there.”
As the sergeant continued giving orders, Quinn and Wolfe, another ODST, scrambled up the hillside. The sounds of small animals scurrying around mingled with the distant rush of a waterfall. The place seemed less like an alien construct and more like Quinn's backyard on his homeworld, Beta Centauri. As they reached the crest, Quinn knelt and sighted through his sniper rifle. “Sergeant? We have two Covenant dropships landing a half a click north of our current position.” He switched to maximum zoom. “Count one shiny gold Elite, two red, a few blue ones, and a decent contingent of Grunts and Jackals. No Hunters.” “Have we been detected?” Quinn checked again. The golden Elite was waving his arms and yammering about something. “I don't think so. Want me to take out the leader?” “Negative. Our first priority is to rendezvous with the Major. As soon as we make contact, be ready to move out.” “Roger that.” Quinn switched off the zoom and shouldered the rifle. “We got an ETA on that contact?” “Should be any minute- What was that?” The stuttering sound of an assault rifle echoed through the radio. “Who fired? Who the hell fired?” “Apologies, sir, we ran into a Jackal and it saw us,” a soldier replied. While the sergeant yelled at the trooper in question, Quinn watched through the scope as the golden Elite's head snapped around, and it barked several orders. “Sir, we've been detected. Permission to fire?” “Permission granted, Quinn, soften them up. Second squad, move up on the left!”
Even as Graham was finishing his sentence, Quinn was pulling the trigger. Whether by bad luck on the ODST's part or some unknown instinct, the Elite moved at the last second and the round struck it in the shoulder. As it dropped down out of sight, Quinn was already moving the reticule over - a second round took a blue Elite through the face. As they scattered for cover, he fired his third and fourth rounds into a red Elite, sending him toppling over. “Damn,” Wolfe commented. The younger ODST had been watching through the scope of his M6D. “Nice shooting.” “Goldie's still alive,” Quinn replied as he reloaded the rifle. “And that's the important bit.” He might have continued talking, but one of the Grunts evidently had a fuel rod gun, and “Goldie” was definitely now nursing a grudge, because a green glowing rod arced over their heads to explode on the dirt a few yards behind them, shaking the ground under their feet.
Gritting his teeth, Field Master Sura 'Sudamee dug the human projectile out of his shoulder. While not especially painful, getting hit made him look foolish. Worse, to be laid low by one of those aliens... it was dishonoring. However, being a somewhat practical Sangheili, he knew better than to draw his sword and charge, like many of his brethren were prone to do. “You! Unggoy! What is your name?” The Unggoy in question looked very much like he wanted to be elsewhere. “Me Badab.” “Badab. You see that hill there?” It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Badab answered anyway. “Yes, Excellency.” “I want that hill destroyed. Shoot it.” The Unggoy looked relieved that the command was absurdly simplistic. Hoisting the heavy fuel rod gun, he sighted down the barrel, adjust the angle, and opened fire.
Watching his shields recharge, the Elite snarled deeply and moved away. He would find the human responsible, and he would enjoy killing him slowly.
“Shit!” Quinn yelled as he and Wolfe dove for cover. “What the hell is that freak's problem?” “I think you pissed him off,” Wolfe commented dryly. “Some history between you two I should know about?” “I bet you think you're real funny, Wolfe.” Quinn was about to take a look through his scope, but had to duck as another explosive round slammed into the dirt in front of him. “This guy's really not going to let up, is he?” Switching on his radio, he said, “This is Quinn, anyone got a bead on the Grunt with the fuel rod gun?” “This is Hamal,” came the voice of their heavy weapons expert, sounding as cool and calm as ever. “I got him.”
Badab was happily lining up the next shot when he heard a soft whump sound. Turning to his companion, Sayap, he asked, “You hear noise?” “Me hear much noise,” the Unggoy replied simply, loading his Needler. “Hear noisy Leaders, hear noisy humans-” “No, this different noise.” Badab turned around to see a burning object streaking towards them. His eyes widened as he made a hasty yet not entirely inaccurate assessment of the incoming item. “Grenade!”
A second rocket took out a Jackal and destroyed the fuel rod gun. Satisfied, Hamal began to reload the launcher. “Banshee!” someone shouted. Hamal turned to look just as a stream of plasma blasts struck him across the chest, sending his limp body tumbling down the embankment. “Someone get that launcher!” Sergeant Graham hollered, firing short bursts at the alien craft. “Quinn, can you see the Banshee?” No answer. “Quinn?” “Incoming!” an ODST yelled as the Banshee swung around for another pass, launching a fuel rod at them that flew over their heads to blow a tree into pieces.
The sniper in question was somewhat preoccupied at the moment, having hurriedly scrambled behind a boulder as they came under heavy fire. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Wolfe grunted, peppering a Grunt with his assault rifle. “Been better.” “Great.” The sniper moved forward and slammed the butt of his rifle against a Jackal's head, caving it in. “We need to regroup with the others - look out!!” He dove sideways as a flurry of pink needler rounds shot forward and lodged in Wolfe's side, detonating in a flash a moment later. Slowly, the sniper raised his head. From his crouched position he could see Wolfe's body sprawled on the ground. As soon as the plasma fire stopped, Quinn started forward. “Wolfe? You still-” The air in front of him shimmered as the golden Elite uncloaked.
“Return fire!” Graham hollered, his MA5B hosing down a hapless Grunt that had crested the ridge. Behind him, an overcharged plasma bolt struck an ODST in the chest, burning through the soldier's armor. The sergeant threw a grenade and backpedaled, jumping behind a rock for cover. As he looked around, the sergeant suddenly realized that he was completely alone. Though many of the Covenant lay dead, alongside them were the bodies of his squad. They were outnumbered from the beginning, and more Covenant were showing up every minute. “Davis, Simon, come in.” No response. As the sounds of approaching Covenant surrounded him, Sergeant Edgar Graham tossed his empty assault rifle away and drew his M6D. “Come and get me, dogs!”
Sura Sudamee swatted the human's rifle out of his hands before it even realized he was there. Drawing a sidearm, the creature got off two rounds before he ripped that gun out of its hands and, seizing it by the front of its armor, lifted in the air as his sword approached its neck. “How does it feel, human, to look death in the face?” The human said something in its peculiar grunting language. Frowning, the Field Master switched on his translator. “What?”
“I said,” Quinn gasped, “I've got your grenade.” Activating the plasma grenade, he jammed it into the Elite's armor. The Field Master only had time to snarl before it detonated in a blue flash...
Some Time Later
A lone figure slid down the hill, coming to a stop at the bottom. Scattered snowflakes drifted past as he knelt next to the corpse of Lance Corporal Quinn and gently tugged the soldier's dog tags free. For a moment he sat there and contemplated the scene of carnage where the lost ODST squad had fallen, fighting to the last.
“Chief, we need to continue to the third pulse generator,” an insistent female voice said. The soldier nodded, traded his pistol for Quinn's sniper rifle, and continued on his way.
_________________ The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for.
-Tucker Max
Last edited by Falconer on Sat Oct 08, 2011 7:38 am, edited 2 times in total.
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