John 117

He’s just loaded his final clips into the SMG’s when a blip hits his radar. It’s this blip that causes Berg to pause, and he has to watch as she’s clipped in the shoulder, sending her down to the ground. The blond is left no choice but to charge back and provide cover for his Marines. He gets no more than ten steps before his cartridges are spent and the decision is made for him to draw the rifles; one in each hand.

That blip is closing, and fast. But it’s not fast enough to save this portion of his squad from the horde that is closing in on them. LCpl Korenov has act, and quickly. When a grenade is thrown towards his squad he takes the shot, striking it and causing it to erupt in midair. Another is tossed, this he notes sticks right to one of the overturned Warthogs. He wastes zero time in taking as many shots as he can, aiming for the head or center mass, whichever seemed to be more effective with the caliber he was wielding. 

By the time he reaches his team he’s spent both weapons, having to drop his weapons and pull up his sidearm as well as Berg’s battle rifle, ordering his squad to reload for him in the interim. With their backs pressed to a Warthog Jacob doesn’t notice that the blip has arrived until he’s upon them, ordering them to take cover. While he knows there’s almost nothing he can do about the one their medic was working on, Jacob covers his squad, draping his arms around them to shield them as much as he can when the hammer strikes.

  The Man stands in front of the remains of the squad, scanning the battlefield ahead of him. Strategies, battle formations, and probabilities run through the man’s head as bullets fly all around him. The Green Giant then finally nods his head, picking up the hammer and resting it on his shoulder before turning back towards the able Marine.

                 “My Mission is to get you and your squad out of here.”

                 “That is my mission and I only see one way to do that.”

  The Spartan said before unhooking a couple Z-4190 Temporal Protective Enfolder grenades from his belt. [Early model bubble shields.] He then tossed them down to the man before turning back towards the advancing Brute’s and Grunts. John then  takes one big breathe before reaching up and wiping the still wet Blue blood from his visor.

                      “The Enemy outnumber us a great amount.”

            “On top of that they seem to have Reinforcements coming.”

                          “We will not win the firefight if we stay.”

          “So you and your team are going to head back the way I came.”

                              “It should still be clear of hostiles.”

              “In fact my extraction should already be there waiting.”

          “I will stay here and provide you and your team time to escape.”

The Spartan said as he tightened his grip on the hammer. He then slowly tilted his head to the right, making a cracking sound before he said one final sentence.

The armor’s color reminds the Warframe of New Loka. Cleansers of the galaxy, worshipers of the Human form. Oberon’s almost surprised to see that no such symbol of the New Loka is bore on the strange man before him.

The second thought that comes to him is tall. Like Saryn or Frost. His antlers may be able to match the man in height but his eyes ( wherever the things may be ) are looking at his neck. A strange sight indeed but the Warframe’s head doesn’t move as his gazes goes upwards to the hexagonal visor, an orange-gold color, new and vibrant unlike the pale gold of the Orokin. His visage is slightly warped, something that doesn’t surprise him, and he reaches up but pauses, delicate fingers hovering over the strange looking glass.

He thinks for a moment, ( ‘ if it were to be touched, would it ripple?’ ) – after all, what is he to expect from such a thing that looks like a golden pond? There is a glimmer to the golden glass, a glimmer that makes itself known so that the Warframe knows ( ‘ no, that is not a pond. it will not ripple’ ) but he touches anyway.

A light tap and he pulls away quickly but keeps it poised, waiting. It doesn’t ripple. But it still glimmers and winks at him.

  The Man stared down at the other. What was this thing in front of him? A statue? The way it presented it self made it seem like a statue. No. Definitely not a statue. It just moved. What is it wearing? Is that some kind of armor? Or is it skin? Some many questions filled the man’s head. Most importantly. Why does it have antlers?

  Then Suddenly. A tap. The being in front of him had tapped at his visor. The Green Giant paused for a moment. Thinking over the everything before looking down at the being only to say.

                           “Uh...”

                   “Hello I guess?”

North shoulders his rifle, saving his final few clips for when he desperately needs them. Around him are the remnants of his patrol squad. Two Warthogs lay in flames, their innards burnt out, their shells mere husks; a housing for the great flames that had spelled out their ending. Within them he’s sure are some members of the rookie squad he’d taken out with him that afternoon. 

Three remained besides himself: Private First Class Berg, who was currently doing her utmost to cover his back, their medic and the one he was tending to, a Private he knew wouldn’t make it. He thinks hard, but out of all of this, he can’t be certain if the one laying bleeding out at his feet was Johanson or Anderson; it had all become far too blurred.

Crouching behind their overturned vehicle, the blond falls eerily silent suddenly. The word has just come down the line, this isn’t just a single attack, the base has been overrun, and more over, there was no help coming. Nothing quickly anyhow.

He draws two SMG’s, looking Berg in the eye. “There’s no help coming. I’ll cover your exit. See to it you get the two of them to cover when I draw them off.” He knows there will be an argument from her, but he levels his gaze with her own. “That is an order, Marine. This is an invasion, not a lone attack. Find cover, and keep them alive.” He reaches over, grabbing the second rifle that belonged to a lost Marine. Slinging it over his shoulder. 

“On my mark,” he states, loading both weapons. “Mark!”

  The Man listened to the Radio before hearing the distress signal. He nodded before clicking a few spots on his wrist. After a couple seconds a image popped up on his HUD along with a voice saying. “Wave point set.” The Green Giant then walked over to the Dead Brute Chieftain. He stared down at the dead body only to reach down and pull the Gravity Hammer out of the ground. He then proceeded to holster it on his back before turning around towards the wave marker.

  The Spartan then took one big breathe before proceeding to take off in a full sprint. For a Giant he could run fast. Like really fast. You think that armor would slow him down. Nope. The Spartan was running at a speed of 45 miles per hour. Of course this speed did not come with out cost. He could feel the strain on his body. Most notably in his legs. The pain didn’t stop him though.

  The Spartan continued to run, as he got closer he could see the flames from the destroyed warthogs. Suddenly, his radar lit up. Most notably the blue dots. Friendlies. They were still alive. He had made it. The Spartan approached the flaming warthog only to hear shouting and gun fire. He quickly reached up and unholstered the hammer. He stared at the flaming warthog and a idea came to mind. The Spartan quickly yelled over the radio.

                           “Everyone down!”

                                    “Now!”

  The Spartan then proceeded to launch himself and the hammer at the Warthog. The force from the Spartan combined with the impact of the hammer caused the flaming warthog to go flying across the battle field at deadly speeds. The Warthog flipped and rolled across the ground running over Brutes and finally crashing into a Ghost, causing it to explode in a massive purple fire works display. John then quickly ran towards the remaining blue dots before stating calmly over the radio.

                          “Comms Check.”

Now she mulls over what weapon he’s holding to use against her. Small caliber, would take quite a bit to go through her armor. He was probably trained enough that the armor wouldn’t matter. Gaps in the metal were evident. There’s a soft sigh that leaves the last living member of Noble’s team, mind made up. 

  The Man lowered the pistol before shaking his head. He then looked back to the other Spartan. She was still staring at her knife. She then began to speak, asking questions and suggesting ways out. He stared at her for a few moments before looking away as he said in low voice.

              “I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can.” 

                      “Only as one who has seen its brutality.

                                               “Its futility,” 

                                         “It’s stupidity.”

                                        “Dwight D. Eisenhower.”

  The Man said before turning back to look at the woman. He then holstered his pistol and began to take a few steps towards the woman and the tree. He then stopped in place, maybe a few steps away from the Spartan before speaking again.

             “Every soldier thinks something of the moral aspects of what he is doing.” 

                               “But all war is immoral and if you let that bother you,” 

                                                   “You're not a Good Soldier.”

                                                              “Curtis LeMay”

  The Soldier gave small sigh before turning his head to look off across the landscape again. He shook his head before letting a few moments pass. He then reached up and began to rub his chest piece, right where his heart was.

                             “I was taught many things growing up in UNSC.”

                                          “I was taught how to strategize.”

                                     “I was taught how to work with others.”

                                           “And I was taught how to kill.”

                   “During all that I learned that I was being trained to be a soldier.”

                                          “A good solider doesn’t feel.”

                                  “A good soldier does not show emotion.”

                                      “A good soldier follows orders.”

                                     “We do all this so others can feel.”

                                “We do this so others can show emotion.”

                                     “We do all this so others can live.”

                                      “So you asked me do I tire of it?”

                                           “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

                                        “I am a Solider.”

                                                       “It’s my duty.”