Marine Operations Staging Area

So this was their grand mission, stopping some dumbass AI from selling the UNSC's secrets. Archer grunted as he glanced to the newbies among the squad. Jameson needn't worry, he'd keep an eye on them. This one seemed like it would be a walk in the park compared to other missions they'd had, the covenant resistance didn't look too bad. As good a mission as they could hope for to introduce the newbies into all this, he supposed..
The trouble would be getting to the rally point, as had been pointed out they'd have to fight their way there, and due to their positions not being guaranteed... he dreaded to think of what would happen if one of them landed in the middle of the Covenant. The covenant force was remarkably small considered what Loki could give. Good, that's just what he wanted to see from this. He took one last look at the map, opening his tac pad and linking it up, downloading a copy of the city map. Once that had done he lowered his arm again, took a last glance at the red dots on the map, then turned away from it and headed out towards his drop pod.

Some people just didn't get it. Some people just thought the ODST's were just average marines in droppods. He liked to call those people 'idiots'. It took a special kind of marine to lock himself in a metal coffin and be shot out through the atmosphere into a planet. It took a marine who wasn't intimidated by such an action, who was going to sit through it like it was a park ride and come out at the bottom guns blazing. Only a mad man wouldn't be afraid of that... which was obviously why he was actually afraid of it, despite doing it regularly. That was bravery, facing one of the most obvious fears a man can have and overcoming it.
Of course, once you'd done it a few times it became less intimidating... until you watched one of your squad-mates pod get smashed into the ocean or burnt up in the atmosphere, or some other unfortunate disaster having destroyed them before they'd even had a chance to respond... after you'd seen one of those (or several) then your mind quickly jumped back to the 'Oh shit I'm going to die', every time you got put in one of these
He cleared his head. If there was anything he didn't want to think about while sitting in his pod just before making a jump, it was that.
Archers thoughts came back to why there was such a small covenant force present. Well, it wasn't small, small as in a single patrol, but compared to what it could have been? It was odd, to say the least. Maybe that spook knew more than she was telling, he wouldn't put it past ONI to hide information from them, particularly given how she'd acted. And after all, when had ONI ever given anyone the whole story...

Marine Operations Staging Area

After about the fourth round at the shooting yard Mark Tenjeer looked at the time, the briefing was to be soon so he grabbed his gear and went off to the staging area. Once there it was already mostly full, so he simply took a seat where he could find it and waited for the briefing to get started. He laughed to himself quietly when the Russian randomly sneezed out like that and tried to defend it. At least there was still one people who could crack a laugh without trying to be an arrogant joker. That's when Aldridge and Jameson seemed to start going into conflict, it was becoming more apparently how little ONI actually cared for us ODSTs. Jameson had to constantly prod and nag them to give us even basic mission information, Tenjeer made a note not to trust ONI in the future.

The mission itself looked like it'd be a bit tough depending on where they landed and how many forces were on planet. Nothing he didn't think he couldn't handle though, no matter how many covies there are, they all fall to bullets. Then again, so do ODSTs, so he'd just have to be faster than the covenant were. Jameson made some notes to look out for our new Ghost members and left, though Tenjer was a bit taken back by how much concern was given to these new members. They're being treated as fresh, young and unexperienced rookies, but here Tenjer is younger than any of them but he's perfectly accepted as any other ODST Ghost member. It didn't really matter though, it's most likely due to the fact they're new to the team rather than their actual age or experience in war.

Tenjer got up and went to leave the staging area once the briefing was done, having already had his gear on him he went straight to the drop pods knowing they'd have to be ready to drop ASAP once they got to their intended destination.

After watching the Sargent and the Spook get into an argument and assign orders, all Brewer could do was think about the mission think about the things that can go wrong atmospheric winds? no one would last very long if blown off course by themselves but it happens in the field sometimes you die on drop sometimes your hatch never blows and your stuck in a steel coffin until someone can come save your ass though he still loved that adrenaline rush of dropping in from orbit Brewer stood and grabbed his gear and walked to the drops getting ready for drop.

Corporal Ross looked up as the Briefing began; moving to regroup with the rest of the detachment. Naturally, ONI had to come in last-second and throw a big ol' surprise in everyone's faces. The covenant force didn't look too large. Sure, Ghost was outnumbered, but grunts and Jackals could barely stand up to an ODST.
Those Elites would be a problem, though. If battle-experience had taught him anything, the Covenant would have at least one attached to each squad.
At least, in theory.
But what about those smaller groups? There were two "blips" on their own, and a group of three just down the street. Sniper teams, maybe? Could be something worse.
Well, as long as nobody ran into a group of three Elites without the entire squad backing them up, everyone should hopefully be making it back home in one piece.
Hopefully.

Atmospheric winds was a little frightening though. Nobody wanted to be on their own, especially the rookies. Some of the senior members might be able to tank it through, but the last thing this squad needed was six more deaths.

Patrick slid his helmet on and shouldered his weapon, letting his HUD update itself as the visor tinted to it's usual blue. It didn't take that long of a walk to reach the drop pods, and soon he was standing in front of his own. He looked around the room to his fellow Ghosts and propped himself up against the wall next to his pod, speaking to nobody in particular.

"So, does anybody find it a bit odd that an AI is able to defect? Don't they have protocols against this or something?"

Jace stood up from the metallic cargo box he'd reserved indefinitely as his shut-eye spot within the Staging Area. "A rogue AI, Bad drop conditions and no guarantee we'll even make it to the rally point if we land? Sounds like a walk in the park." He stated out loud, then, hearing Ross' question, answered with, "If an AI has gone rogue, it's probably starting to go Rampant, or it's gone fully Rampant. My bet is that Loki is more than just your average christmas decoration AI. Why else would Mrs Spook be so tight on the details?" Eying the monitor, he mulled over the layout of the city and downloaded it to his data pad. His best chance would be following the river if he survived the drop. There was plenty of building coverage to mask his approach and an unguarded route to the rally point. He doubted his luck, however. Thinking more about the mission objective and the active AI down below, he realised something that wasn't explained during the briefing.

Jason walked out of the Staging Area and towards the Drop Bay, noticing Archer up ahead. He'd been his Squad Sergeant since he'd joined the Detachment a year and a half ago. Archer was 11 years his senior but Jace had liked him from the off, the man was straight talking and didn't take shit from anyone. They'd been on quite a few missions together during his time in as a GHOST and Jace had found himself looking up to the man, almost. He jogged a couple of steps to catch up. "Hey Sarge." He said, as he closed upon his right shoulder. "This AI is still active right? Which means there's a chance he'll be able to spot us through any security systems still operational around the city, if he's connected himself to the Facility's databases. Should any of us land north of those Covie patrols, our best bet would be to head east for the river and track it south until we reach the rally point. The chances of the city's security systems being able to eyeball us would be reduced and we could probably set up sniper cover in the remains of the buildings to the east of the rally point." Jason often shared his views on how to approach each mission with the Sergeant. Due to his time spent on Victoria, Jace was somewhat of an expert in dodging enemy patrols and attacking from the right angle, which, on this mission, seemed to be exactly what they'd need to do.

"If shit hits the fan and the Op goes south once we reach the Rally Point..." He continued. "...We can fall back to the southern bridge out of the city. It might even be better to plant charges on the way past, just in case we need to delay any...followers." He stopped talking then to allow the Staff Sergeant to take in the information.

Amber watched as Corporal Acosta approached her and Silva as they were talking hearing her comment over the new recruits to GHOST. "They are new to the team we were all rookies at one point or another you know. Just show them the same respect as they would give you." She said in a stern voice, her eyes went towards the entrances to the staging area watching as Jameson entered Amber quickly headed over towards the center of the room with the rest of GHOST. Amber stared at the image of Solace Colony which was now glassed and a barren wasteland now she quietly listened to their commanding officer briefing them on their mission, when Captain Ramsey, XO Campbell along with Commander Aldridge she stood at attention to her superior officers.

Her blue eyes watched silently as Aldridge took over the rest of the briefing she disliked ONI for many reasons and hated being left out in the dark her eyes switched over to the monitor taking note of the Type-52 Phantom hovering over the city center knowing that they would have to drop down quickly. Then the rest of the briefing went smoothly watching Jameson and Aldridge go at it. She knew he disliked her as much as she did and the rogue AI was going to be a problem when they were dismissed Amber could over hear McCoy talking to the recruits overhearing the mention of SPARTAN's going MIA she knew well that they weren't invincible some of her friends died or weren't able to go into active duty from the augmentation and having become a washout as well spent years in recovery Amber simply stared at McCoy for a moment.

She started to follow behind Jameson towards his locker letting him get a chance to load up on his gear having served with him a few times before she was eventually recruited to join GHOST and trusted him and were good friends. She looked around for a moment before speaking up crossing her arms over her chest. "I really don't trust her sir, I have a bad feeling something is going to happen on the surface other then the small Covvie patrol. And due to the weather down there may I suggest splitting up into two squads incase we get separated in the drop and meet up at City Hall?"

Tenjer while heading to the Drop Pods heard one of the other Ghost Member's Ross ask a question about how the AI went rogue. Once Jace gave his answer Tenjer shrugged and replied "Maybe, it could be rampant or bad AI. Or he could of been hacked...". He thought for a moment and then added "Though, haven't been Spartan AI's had tendencies to go corrupt even? Maybe Loki's just gone old. You'd wonder why ONI wouldn't be more on top of that though". He then pulled out a datapad and brought up the general map readings for the mission "We'll have to be careful though, the AI could be messing with the readings. And even if not, one Jackal sniper or elite with an energy sword could spell the end of an entire squad...". "They should of just made us all Spartans, it'd be far easier that way" he joked with a grin, but then getting serious again almost instantly "Or just train more Marines to be ODSTs than they currently do. Then at least we'd have more skill overall among our forces".

Victoria looked over at her fellow corpsman, Corporal Acosta as she expressed her own feeling about the newbies. Obviously they weren't exactly the most positive, and looked over at Amber as she expressed her feelings about what Acosta said. Victoria looked at Acosta and gave her a rather determined look, "As long as you do your job to the best of your ability- even for them, then whatever you think of them shouldn't be too much of an issue." She said, before turning around towards the staging area, noticing the briefing had now commenced. She put on her helmet and took her gear with her, the MA5C being held rather tightly in her arms as she lined up next to whoever, and listened to the briefing.

She looked over the map quietly, her own brown eyes darting back from Aldridge and to the map as she processed the information in her head. Another AI had gone rogue, living up to its namesake, which shouldn't had happened. But, these AIs were powerful, and were known for becoming autonomous fairly quickly. Unfortunately, the AI that had been presumed to be destroyed, was still active, and being put into the hands of the covenant could spell extreme danger for everyone in the UNSC, ONI, and whatnot. Victoria herself didn't trust AIs too much, as you didn't know what they were going to do, when they were going to do things, or how. Her last experience with an AI was a rather traumatic one, and she preferred not to go back to those unfortunate memories.

As the briefing came to a close, she looked up at McCoy and listened to his speech. It was surprisingly inspirational, and felt somewhat more motivated as she made her way to her drop pod. She didn't have anything strategic to add, so she just stayed silent and continued onto her drop pod. She leaned up against the wall next to hers, and looked for Acosta, beckoning for her to come over.

Acosta let Gunny Mullan's word's fly over her head. It was a matter of opinion. Where as Mullan might have seen professionals, Acosta saw shenanigans. Shenanigans that will need to resort to their training or be killed. And who would have to deal with that, certainly not Mullan, no it would be the corpsman who would hold the hand of a dying casualty. Marines don't call for mommy, daddy, God, or Sergeant.... no they all call for "Doc".

Acosta respected Mullan's rank and decided to let it slide versus share her reasons for her opinions or her harsh treatment of green boots besides she could tell she wasn't in the best of moods. Soft love never toughened anyone, but hey it was a "new" Marine Corps the harsh ways were dying it seemed. Acosta remembered the stories her brother told her about hazing and strict settings withing the Corps. It seemed those days were far.

Now Silva chimed in and told her as long as she did her job things would be fine. "I'm always ready to do my job, that will never change," she said adamantly. As a corpsman it was never a question, you did your job even when the enemy becomes a casualty, because all casualties were their patients according to Geneva Conventions and required by all medical personnel, besides Acosta had morals, she had integrity and honored it. A stubborn asshole maybe, but the whole Marine Corps was full of it.

Acosta listened to the briefing and took mental notes of the dangers of the mission. She headed over to Silva who rested against the wall waving to join her. "What's up?" she asked.

Wyatt knew that he shouldn't have said that when Croft was in the room, but didn't see him until he got infont of Wyatt's face. He said that we all were new to GHOST once and we should guide them, Wyatt agreed with him and felt bad. He put on the rest of his armor and grabbed his shotgun and walked towards the Staging Area, where Croft was telling the plans until the cold hearted Aldridge said that plans were changing. Once, he tried to tell her a joke, but she gave him a speech about how that joke was funny and then punched him in the arm and walked away. Then she told everyone that they were dropping in now, that was a shock either to the new guys, they just got here and now are on a deadly mission. The reason for the change of plans was because of an A.I. gone rogue, and there were tons of bad guys to fight as well.

He remembers hearing about Solace City when it was gassed and it was on the news. He feared that this mission was going to be costly, like the last mission. When she stoped speaking, Wyatt walked to Croft and said to him, "I'm sorry about that joke, I was trying to light up the mood. I wanted to tell you that just in case..." he couldn't finish what he was going to say.

04:13 Hours
23 August, 2550
Marine Operations Staging Area

Private April just looked on in awe as Sergeant Jameson and Commander Aldridge almost had it out in front of the whole unit; and though they restrained themselves, the disdain they held for each other was clear even to him. He’d thought about voicing his observation to Truman and Crawley, but Corporal McCoy beat him to the punch. April was intimidated by the mohawked support man, and kept quiet as he dished the gossip concerning their ONI liaison; but felt somewhat more at ease as he dropped the subject, and the conversation got serious.

Private Truman nodded as he listened to the man who apparently bore the nickname ‘Gatling’, and he paid close attention. Truman was green, like his new teammates Crawley, April, and even the jokester Wiley. But Truman felt confident in himself, and his abilities. All twenty-five years of his life, he was confident in himself, and he’d always measured up. That confidence in himself was a big reason why Jameson had personally requested his assignment to Ghost, or so the Master Gunnery Sergeant had explained. He’d learned that of the six new members of Ghost, he was the only one Jameson had actually requested; the others had been forced on the Gunny. This only added to Truman’s confidence in himself, but he was smart enough to know not to boast about it.

Crawley on the other hand, though green like her fellows, felt like she had something to prove, not just to herself, but to others. She’d grown up in the lap of luxury, and when her parents had expressed their intent for her to follow in their footsteps, Crawley rebelled. To her, that rebellion meant enlisting with the UNSC Marine Corps. She took to it immediately, knowing she had to fight hard to prove that she wasn’t just some rich kid; it’s why she brokered a deal with one of her previous COs to be assigned to Ghost, despite the concern that she didn’t have the credentials.

“Thank you, sir!” replied April in an all too formal manner when McCoy offered the newbies a pseudo-welcoming to the Detachment. Both Truman and Crawley didn’t bother with a formal show of appreciation, simply nodding in acknowledgement to the Corporal.

“…and besides, if the big man here can’t look after ya, you’ve always got me .” Chimed in Private Wiley as he walked by McCoy and the three other Privates, a shit-eating grin clear across his face as he reveled in his smug confidence. Truman rolled his eyes at Wiley’s comment before slipping his ODST helmet over his head, and polarized his VISR, concealing his face underneath.

- - -

Nearby, Lance Corporal Croft took the last few drags of a cigarette before extinguishing it into a nearby ash-tray. He exhaled deeply as a puff of the tobacco smoke blew out from his lungs, gradually rising to the metal grated deck above. Croft, like Jameson was lucky to have been assigned to the Wanderer, as the old ship was one of a few that offered a non-pure oxygen atmosphere, meaning it was possible to smoke aboard; though it was really at the expressed permission of Captain Ramsey that he wasn’t still forbidden from lighting up. After slipping a fresh pack of Marlboro into one of his leg pouches, he grabbed his helmet and made for the drop pods.

- - -

Still to the aft of the staging area was Sergeant Leonid, who was recording a holo-message for his seven children. “…and I want you all to listen to your mothers, regardless of which ones they are, and uhh… remember that I love you all… mmh? Okay…” he stopped the recording, and set it to auto-send in three days. Immediately afterward, he sneezed loudly again, turning his head to the side just in time to avoid spraying the intercom.

Sergeant Danforth however, wasn’t so lucky as he caught the ejectant in his right leg as he went to walk by the mad Russian. Stopping in his tracks, he looked down at his thigh armor, and then to Leonid, who simply stared at him. “…you seriously need to stop doing that.” He explained in a clearly aggravated tone, which sounded as though this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

“What? I explain already; to keep inside, is to keep sick…eh?” he replied before reaching for his nearby helmet, which bore the ancient symbol of a crossed hammer and sickle. Danforth gritted his teeth as he fought his instinct to try and hammer some sense into his friend, and instead kept moving right on by, slipping his own helmet over his head. A moment later Leonid followed suit, slipping his helmet over his head.

- - -

Jameson checked the action of his Battle Rifle as few times as he stood facing his locker, then turned his rifle over in his hands to check that his holo-sight, laser sight, and foregrip were still tightly attached to the picatinny railing. Once satisfied, he reached into one of his ammo pouches and pulled free a magazine, then rammed it up into the stock. Pulling the charging lever to chamber a round, he heard Mullan’s steps as she approached, and looked over his shoulder to her.

He chuckled slightly as he listened to her speak the concerns she had regarding the limited details their ONI liaison was willing to share. “She’s a spook… what’s to trust?” he admitted as he slung his rifle, and reached for his helmet, then closed shut his locker and faced her. Over her shoulder the rest of the team was gradually filing out of the staging area, headed for their drop pods.

Sighing a moment, he looked at the image of Solace City on the briefing holo-monitor, and then back to his second in command. “There’s no guarantee that any of us will drop anywhere even close to each other; hell, for all you and I know, we might not even make the drop… as if either of us are that fortunate.” He mused her a moment, laughing at the dark humor.

“Objectives are pretty simple once we’re planet side, fend of the Covenant, and make it to the rallying point. Once we’ve made it into the sewers, we’ll split up into two groups as we make for the ONI facility. You’ll take your usual Second Squaders, with the addition of Sanders, Donovan, and Wiley. I’ll take First Squad with Crawley, Truman, and April.” He stepped away from the wall of lockers, and motioned for her to walk with him as they made their way.

“I’m sure there’s more we’re not being told, but that’s just one of those undisclosed hazards of our job, hidden in the fine print when we sign on.” Stopping just before the hatchway leading out of the staging area, Jameson turned to look Mullan in the eyes. “You know your job, and you know how to go about getting your job done. Just keep your men focused, keep your head on straight, and keep at least one eye on our ONI friend.”

“I’ll meet up with you at City Hall.” He said simply as he slipped on his helmet, polarized his VISR, and headed for his drop pod.

- - - - -

04:18 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer

Setting his M41 down into its locking position aboard his SOEIV Class Drop Pod, Lance Corporal unslung his M45D Tactical Shotgun, and gripped it tightly. He knew they were hot dropping, so he’d better be ready to fight when, or rather, if he landed. As he checked the weapon a moment, he overheard the chatter of Corporals Ross and Anders to his right, and listened in a moment before commenting.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s some AI, a grunt, jackal, or an elite. If Navy Intelligence wants someone or something dead, then we’re the ones they call on. We specialize in making things dead.” Looking at his drop pod a moment, then stepping inside and turning around to face out, Croft then addresses Corporal Tenjer. “…and all do respect Corporal, Spartans might be bigger, faster, and smarter; but they’re not Ghosts.”

Croft’s drop pod door closed tight, sealing the big demolitions man inside, and he waited.

“Bridge to Drop Bay, we are three mikes to drop zone. Stand by!” came the call from Captain Ramsey through the overhead comm, announcing that the Wayward Wanderer would be in position to being dropping Ghost in just under three minutes.

- - - - -

04:20 Hours
23 August, 2550
Bridge of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer

“Now entering high orbit around Omega Titanius III! Drop window in three mikes!” called out Ensign Andrews, the chief helm officer aboard the UNSC Wayward Wanderer.

“Understood. Steady as she goes Andrews.” Ordered Captain Ramsey as he brought a cup of coffee to his lips, taking a sip of the frothing hot black liquid, stinging his tongue and lips. “Bridge to Drop Bay, we are three mikes to drop zone. Stand by!”

“Ensign Alonso, any movement from the Covenant planet side? Have they detected us?” asked Commander Campbell as she strode away from the Captain’s side, and approached the sensor station at the port side of the bridge.

“No ma’am! Zero movement from the Covenant, they haven’t seen us yet!” called out Alonso, who looked over his shoulder to his executive officer.

- - - - -

04:22 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer

Filing into the drop bay, Sergeant Danforth spots Corporal Davis, and nods to him. He might have criticized the man for his comments made to the newbies, but Danforth trusted the Corporal, and knew he meant nothing malicious by it. He knew the man was a good Marine, and genuinely hoped he’d make it through to the end of this nasty business that was their operation. Turning away, Sergeant Danforth stowed his own M41 Rocket Launcher, readied his MA5B, and closed his drop pod hatch.

One by one, the remaining members of the Detachment made their way to their SOEIV class drop pods, and one by one they entered, secured themselves, then locked the hatch tight. The last man to enter was Jameson as he checked the status’ of all his Ghost’s drop pods, ensuring they were all properly sealed, and read as green to go. Only one drop pod was still empty, that of the ONI Field Operative.

But before he could comm the Commander, she stepped into the drop bay, and without so much as a look to the Sergeant, she entered, stowed, secured, and locked her own drop pod. They were all green to go now. Jameson then turned away from the status board, and climbed into what he’d affectionately called his would-be coffin.

“Bridge to Drop Bay, Thirty Second count begins now!” came Ramsey’s warning.

After the hatch had sealed, Jameson checked the time read-out on his VISR, and activated the comm system in his helmet. He patched into the comms of the Ghosts. “Listen up.” He waited a moment until he had their attention, then continued. “Good luck Ghosts.” With that, the first chords of the ODST anthem began to play over their comm systems; a tradition that had been observed by every ODST unit for years; the music was strong in it’s tone, and conveyed the bravery of the helljumpers.

“Bridge to Drop Bay, T-Minus Five… Four… Three… Two…” called out the shipboard AI, Oberon, as he counted down the last few seconds. When the timer hit zero, there was a momentary sound of air depressurizing around the drop pods as the bay doors were opened, and for a split second, nothing but silence was beheld to each of the Ghosts.

“Feet first into hell, Marines! Oooh-rah!” exclaimed Jameson over the comms as that peaceful and calm silence was erased by the unmistakable sound of launch boosters firing. En masse, all twenty-five of the drop pods were jettisoned out from underneath of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer, the blackness of space filling the small transparent aluminum window on each of their pods. The intense G-Force of the launch drove each of the Marines against their harness as they speed downward toward the planet beneath.

It wasn’t long after, that the blackness of space gave way to the ambient light emitted from the planet below, and the negative G-Force that had all but lifted them out of their seats gave way to positive Gs that drove them back down into them. Their drop pods had hit the outer atmosphere, starting at 17,000 MPH, they began decelerating at an incredible rate. Outside of their transparent aluminum viewports the distress of atmospheric entry was evident, as the burning red hot gases outside flared with a fluorescent red glow.

As they descended, the red glow outside faded, and the rumbling strain of atmospheric entry quieted down. Reaching 20,000 feet, the radiant light of the nearby stars gave way to the thick black storm clouds that lingered over the planet. Outside of their viewports, the black clouds were occasionally illuminated by hundreds of flashes of lightning, refracted by the heavy rain droplets that fell from the skies.

At 3,000 feet, the familiar jolt of their drag chute deploying above their pods was followed by an alarm claxon sounding, signifying their imminent touchdown.

As the sounds of rushing air and rain pelting against the exterior of her drop pod intensified, Gunnery Sergeant Mullan could faintly see another drop pod through her viewport. A sudden flash illuminated the sky and the other drop pod just enough for her to see a lance of white lightning surge from the sky, and strike the drop pod directly. The struck drop pod’s chute broke away, and the pod began to tumble erratically.

“Oh god! I got hit by a bolt of lightning! My systems are fried! Mayday! Mayday!” called out Private First Class Truman as he felt his drop pod tumbling through the air, his world spinning about like a top as he plummeted from the sky out of control. “I’m going down! I repeat, I’m going down! Mayday! Mayday! Oh god n-…” his words were cut off, and the world went black for Truman as his pod smashed uncontrollably into the skeletal remains of a Solace City skyscraper.

Static poured into the comm link from Truman’s radio system for a moment, then went silent, and on Jameson’s screen his status indicator went red. A instant later, Jameson and the rest of the Ghost’s drop pods crashed down throughout the city, their locations varied and scattered.

- - - - -



04:27 Hours
23 August, 2550
Surface of Solace Colony

A moments disorientation would’ve befallen them as their pods came to a rest amongst the burned and charred remnants of the surface of Solace Colony. All around them were the sounds of the eternal storm that raged over the planet in wake of the great fires that had scorched it’s surface; thunder echoed in the skies above, and a torrential downpour raged without relent.

Jameson groaned a moment as his surgically repaired back ached horribly, but as the momentary daze of pain passed, he sat up and checked his status monitor, and to his dismay, Private Truman’s status was still red. “Damnit! Status check! Now!” he called out over his comm as he reached for his hatch release, which made an awkward mechanical sound as it failed to open. “Fuck!” he exclaimed aloud, not realizing his comm was still open. Reaching for the emergency blow system, he triggered it, and his hatch blew as a set of charges detonated. It launched about ten feet straight up into the air, then crashed back down onto Jameson’s pod before tumbling away.

“Ghosts! Status!” he hollered again, waiting for each of them to acknowledge their still living status by simply pinging their comm, which was the expected protocol when surrounded by enemies. As he clambered out of his drop pod, he realized that he’d landed in the center of a massive mound of burned debris. Looking up he saw a flash of lightning in the sky, and saw that the mound he’d landed on was actually half of a burnt and destroyed skyscraper that had collapsed during the covenant attack.

As he leveled his weapon, he looked about and saw in a small fire burning near the top of a far off building, no doubt where Truman’s pod had crashed uncontrollably. He shook his head, and looked about a moment to see if he’d landed near anyone else, and he saw rising smoke to the northeast, indicating another drop pod nearby.

Carefully he stepped down from his drop pod, and began climbing out of the mound he’d landed in, hoping his team would ping their comms, and confirm their still living status’.

Alleyway between Posement Avenue and Stevens Street

Archer looked from his pod, seeing a wall in front of him, groaning slightly as he rubbed his shoulder. It had jarred painfully when he crashed into the alley, but he'd live. Archer reached up and pulled the hatch release and the pod hissed before popping it's self open to reveal the alley. He took his SMG and slung it over his shoulder, taking his rifle in both hands and climbing out of the pod, glancing both ways down the alleyway he had ended up in. His eyes came to rest on a group of covies, and he cursed under his breath, dashing across to the alleyway across from him, taking cover behind the wall.
He checked his rifle's safety was off, when Jameson's voice came over the comms requesting a status check. He pinged the comms over, confirming he was actually still standing, and peered out around the corner, checking whether they were approaching. This wasn't such a good time to be alone, one versus at least six... He poked his head around the corner and tried to get a better view of what they were. If they were grunts he might stand a chance, but if they were elites...
He spoke into his radio "Got seven or so covies here, didn't get a good look to tell what they were, landed right next to them. I'm in the alleyway connecting Posement Avenue to Stevens street, I might need some assistance, over" He said...

Just as Tenjer got loaded into his Drop Pod he heard Croft reply to his spartan joke, saying how spartan's where Ghosts. To this Tenjer laughed, and didn't have time to actually respond before the Pod's hatch shut closed on him. After that it was the usual quickly speech from Jameson and then the playing of the anthem as they began to launch. As the Pods dropped Tenjer began wondering who would survive the landing even? Just as they cleared the red fog he saw the stroke of lightning hit Truman's pod and spiral out of control, and crash into a tall structure. Once Tenjer he immediately got out of the pod to get bearings on his location, and see if he could spot the tower... He did, and it was rather far off, he wasn't sure if he could make it in time to see if Truman could be saved, and not be abandoned by the rest of the squad. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" he swore at himself, he hated losing men, especially so early in the mission.

In this time he noticed Jameson asked for everyone's pings and Tenjer accidently left him hanging, he pinged immediately to not worry Jameson any longer than he already had, then looked quickly for any notable features so he could give his location to the others, he noticed some drop pod smoke across the street, indicating nearby ODSTs. He said on the comlink quickly then simply to report and not catch his squadmates by surprise "I see some of you guys at the other side of Maynard Boulevard, so don't shoot the second you see something approaching you ok?". He then quickly loaded his DMR, his assault rifle already loaded on his back and got moving. Half way across the street he spotted something else that might cause trouble... covies turning the corner onto the street. He didn't seem to of been spotted yet, but be booked it immediately, but carefully to be safe. Not even taking time to check the numbers or who made up the squad.

Upon getting across he spotted Coporal Anders, giving a sigh of relief he ran up to him and said "Anders! Good to see you!" in a rather happy and relived tone of voice. But then immediately got serious and said "Though I did spot some covies moving onto the street over there" he said pointed to his right. "You think we should engage, or head back and see who else we can find?" he asked. Being of equal rank Tenjer knew he didn't need to follow Ander's orders, but the same applied to Anders as well. And Tenjer would rather all present ODSTs be on the same page regardless. He personal preferred backing off and finding more ODSTs, that meant more fire power. But knew that may not be possible if they got spotted, and even if they weren't spotted there was no guarantee any ODSTs were further back. If that was the case, they'd only waste time in heading backwards.

04:01 Hours
23 August, 2550
Marine Operations Staging Area

Golovkin observed the overhead layout surrounding the rendezvous point, taking note of the covenant forces patrolling the area. Small squads ranging from 3-6 covies took perimeter around city hall, and Golovkin immediately noticed that the southeast side was left unguarded. It was an ideal drop zone to get into flanking position, but the coast was too narrow for a SOEIV insertion. A slight miscalculation could veer him straight into the river of solitude. That’s not to say that inland was any safer. Skyscrapers of varying heights and structural integrity grouped around the rally point like an uneven picket fence. When it came to orbital deployment, Golovkin viewed buildings as two things: safety nets or baseball bats. They can either stabilize your drop and provide a nice tactical vantage point, or redirect your course toward an even nastier trajectory, creating an impact that could send you across the city in pieces. That’s hoping the covenant ship, or any anti-aircraft artillery on the ground for that matter, doesn’t blow them out of the sky first.

The tension was undeniably thick between Commander Aldridge and Master Sergeant Gunner Jameson, who disapproved of the ONI operative’s taciturn behavior from the get-go. The same sentiment could be expressed by everyone else in Ghost Detachment, who was just as much in the dark as Gunny. Robert had served under lesser officers in the past who kept their mouths shut and blindly followed orders. Since his reassignment into Ghost, Robert quickly learned that Jameson was not of that sort. Gunny had the stones to stand his ground where other superior officers otherwise tucked tail. He took that extra step for his men, and after the fallout with the last operation, Jameson became extra vigilant.

Robert glossed over the mission specifics reluctantly unveiled by Commander Aldridge. The complexities of artificial intelligence were way over his head, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen if one of them defected to the other side. Robert didn’t believe something like that was even possible. He assumed that they were entirely docile, and the thought of them functioning as self-aware individuals gave him the creeps. It was bad enough that they were fighting an alien race armed with advanced weaponry; the last thing they needed was one of their own added onto their covenant inventory.

“They just had to name it Loki…” He said aloud.

04:22 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer

Following dismissal, Sergeant Robert “Ready” Golovkin forced open the entranceway door into the hangar bay and motioned toward his drop pod. He double-checked the layout uploaded onto his personal data lace, synching all information to his HUD. He jostled open the entry hatch of his SOEIV and placed the M739 Automatic Rifle and its drum magazines in the equipment racks. After those were secure, he then placed the satchel charges in one of the smaller compartments. The rest would stay on his person. After securing his equipment, Ready drew out the M90 from his backside and placed it on his lap as he strapped himself into the crash seat. He raised his gloved hand and tapped the sanghelli skull on his shoulder pad with his knuckle, then pulled the entry hatch down and waited for the inevitable plunge toward Omega Titanus III.

“Bridge to Drop Bay, Thirty Second count begins now!” came Ramsey’s warning.

Robert whistled along with the ODST anthem that boomed through the comm speakers until he heard the mechanical stress of the bay doors opening. He focused on the fizziling sound of the entire hangar bay depressurizing, until the deafening silence of space muted everything and anything around him. Within this momentary stasis in time, memories of holding his infant son flashed before him. The warmth of his little body tickling the hairs on his forearm. Cradling him gently until his cries dull to a whimper. The first kiss placed on his soft forehead. He took a deep breath and returned to the present.

“Feet first into hell, Marines! Oooh-rah!”

The G-Force from the launch was like a punch to the stomach that made Robert's innards feel like they were being pulled into the floor. Jettisoned out from under the Wayward Wanderer, Robert and his squad mates missile into the blackness of space toward Omega Titanus III. The second jolt felt like a kick to the nuts, slamming him back violently, but also signaling that atmospheric reentry had begun. Robert clenched tight and maintained his breathing pattern. He kept his focus on the activity happening through the small viewport in front of him. A red glow had permeated through the void as flecks of the outer ceramic skin of the pod sparked white hot specks. While it looked to be chipping away at a quickened pace, the outer skin absorbed all of the heat from reentry, preventing Golovkin from getting cooked alive. So far so good.

At 20,000 feet the ceramic skin was completely absorbed by the heat, and the lead foiling underneath it held the armored sections of the pod together. The twilight was replaced by violent storm clouds that veined intense spears of lightning. The first comm since deployment was from Private First Class Truman. It would also be his last. Most of it was garbled, likely due to the electrical interference from the storm. All Robert could make out was, “I’m go--- dow-! M----y! Oh God…”

Just as Robert was about to mutter an expletive, the upper exterior panels of his pod separated to become a drag-type chute that slowed the descent, exponentially. However, a loose rattling noise came from one of the panels, followed by a violent screech of bending metal. He could feel the drag downward beginning to alter course, arcing wildly and on the verge of sputtering out of control. Robert shoved his M90 in a small gap between the crash seat and the wall, then assumed immediate control of the rocket brakes from the pod’s computer. He expanded the layout of Solace city on his HUD and looked for the nearest building and took a deep breath.

“Safety net or baseball bat.” Robert gently nudged the steering thrusters to stabilize the pod, then waited until a massive skyscraper came skirting toward his viewport. He clenched the controls as tight as he could, setting off the rocket brakes just seconds before impact. "Safety net. Come on, safety net!"

04:30 Hours
23 August, 2550
Surface of Solace Colony

Robert gradually woke from his dreary state. His body was aching, but nothing felt broken. He felt something poking the back of his neck, and when he went to check what it was, he felt the nozzle of his M90 pressed up against the side of his head. That would've sucked. The ODST had successfully managed to break the fall of his rapidly descending pod by veering through the side of a building. Gathering himself, he looked out at the viewport and squinted. All he saw was a skyline view of the city. Where the hell... Robert carefully unlatched the locking mechanism of the exit hatch and slowly pulled the door open. High winds filled the small chamber of the pod, and he looked down to what he estimated to be at least a 50 foot drop. The only thing keeping him and his pod from falling, were two support beams from the building’s infrastructure.

“Well, shit.”

Gunny Jameson yelled into his mic helm for a status report. Scoping his surroundings with his VISR, Robert saw that he was less than a klick away from the Gunny. He pinged his location and carefully collected his equipment, careful not to jolt the pod loose from the support beams and end up a pancake on the street down below.

“Yeah, that’ll be enough falling for today.” Robert delicately slipped off of the pod, and climbed down through an open clearing onto the floor below. He gave one last look up at his battered SOEIV. It reminded Robert of a nest barely held together by two dainty tree branches.

“Safety net.” He nodded.

M90 drawn and fully loaded, he cocked it back and headed for the stairwell. Repolarizing his visor, Golovkin initiated the night vision spectrum and quickly descended through twenty-four floors in complete darkness.

Victoria looked around and leaned in close to Acosta, "How many of those rookies do you think will make it out alive after this operation..." She said, looking around the rookies. She waited for Acosta to respond, before she would then proceed to enter her drop pod, placing her MA5C Assault Rifle in the slot specified for it, and her M7S SMG in the other slot. The hatch in front of her was pulled closed as she settled down in her seat, closing her eyes and sighing as she mentally prepared herself for upcoming drop ahead. Drops were one of the areas were casualties were inevitable, and nothing could be done once a drop went awry. Because of that lingering chance a drop could go wrong, Victoria always loathed the drops with a passion.

The corpsman was a bit uneasy as the metal lurched, hearing just how soon the pods would be launched. The sound of the ODST anthem blaring through the speakers as she closed her eyes, waiting for rush of rapid descent. She thought how she would handle this, and reviewed procedures to treat all sorts of injuries. She memorized them very nicely, but reviewing them soothed her for the most part. Her efforts to draw herself away from the launch were a bit futile as the sudden jolt of the launch kicked her in the gut like nothing else. The g-force resulting from the launch kept her glued from the seat, and Victoria had eventually been drawn to open her eyes, seeing all the other pods descend before her.

Some time passed before she could feel another violent jolt, and the sound of metal lurching again as she entered the atmosphere of the planet. As the drop pod continued to descend towards the planet, she was grateful for the design of the pod, otherwise she would've been burnt to a crisp by now. Suddenly, she heard a sound of someone in danger through the intercom. The sound of terror in his voice made Victoria's heart dive to her feet, knowing that the silence afterwards was not a good sign. As the pod closed towards the ground, she began operating the mini jets to stabilize herself, before hitting the rocket brakes to lessen the impact as much as possible. Unfortunately, the impact was still strong enough to render her unconscious.

04:29 Hours
23 August, 2550
Solace Colony

Victoria roused awake as she came to her senses. The good news was, she was alive and in one piece. The bad news was, she didn't know where she was, who else was alive just yet, or what was around her. As she came to completely, she noticed she was around 3 other people in her detachment. She gave a status report, indicating she was alive and well. Afterwards, she grabbed her equipment and opened up the hatch in front of her, walking out with her MA5C drawn. A considerable amount of red dots popped up behind her, which basically told her not to go there. She sighed and started to head towards the nearest street, hoping to meet other ODSTs there.

04:22 hours Wayward Wanderer drop bay
The Uneasiness of the drop began to creep it's way into Brewer's mind like a sickness, but he quickly put it down just as Oberon announced the drop clock "5...4...3...2...1..." After that there was a brief second of silence then Jameson ruined it shouting something that Brewer's pre operation jitters tuned out.

Dropping from a ship into orbit wasn't all it was racked up to be, there was many things that could go wrong and often times did and it just seemed like bad luck as Truman's pod went spiraling out of control crashing into a skyscraper just as Brewer's pods chute opened Truman went silent, "Rest in peace, Truman we hardly knew yee." He said Mournfully to himself as his pod went hurtling into the surface of the planet narrowly missing two buildings after the not-so-slightly jarring impact which made his Teeth chatter together he blew the door off his pod and grabbed his SMG "all right, Brewer lets do this." He said to himself as he stepped onto the pavement pinging to his CO he was okay.

04:31 hours, Surface of Solace Colony, Alleyway between Waynard and Coronado
Brewer Proceeded down the alleyway towards Waynard Blvd, gun in hand he moved forward he flicked on his VISR to look for friendlies so he didn't on accidently shoot someone when he turned the corner bad thoughts kept creeping his way into his "What if this is my last? What if I fail my squad?" He tried to kill these thoughts but they wouldn't go down his thoughts kept turning to Sargasso and how he failed his squad then too, but everything went silent and he turned the corner and saw a friendly drop pod.

Acosta thought about Victoria's question. "This is war... but I pray they all come back alive." She left for her drop pod and secured her gear and herself in the pod. She closed her eyes and silently prayed to whatever was out there, she prayed the corpsman's prayer, she prayed for her team, and for her squad as the pods launched.

Acosta watched the pods in descent to their destination. There was a complication and Truman's pod crashed into a building. Acosta was helpless to save him, he was dead. Hopefully the others would having a better time with the drop. Acosta's pod crash-landed and she took a few moments to recover, she hated this. Securing her gear she opened the hatch and stepped out of the wrecked pod. She immediately went straight to cover, she was out in the open, who knew what enemy was out there. She was on Stevens Street.

"Got seven or so covies here, didn't get a good look to tell what they were, landed right next to them. I'm in the alleyway connecting Posement Avenue to Stevens Street, I might need some assistance, over..." Sergeant Archer's voice chimed in over radio.

He was very close, and she was already on the way to back him up. She sprinted in five second bursts, and bounded up to where Archer held his position.

"I've got your six, Sar'nt," the corpsman told the Marine as she backed him up clearly seeing the enemy he was talking about. There was six or seven of them alright.

Patrick merely shrugged at their responses and hoisted himself into the drop pod as the order was given. Maybe the AI was rampant, or maybe they actually were able to defect. Whatever the case, it was a computer. Shouldn't be too much threat to a team of highly-trained ODSTs.
He closed his eyes as the pod shot out of the Wayward Wanderer, opening them only once the shaking and jostling reached a high point. As dangerous as it was, something about dropping feet first into atmosphere was quite pretty.
A frown crept across Corporal Ross' face as the black, angry storm clouds came into view. A raging thunderstorm, how fitting.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Truman's panicking voice came over the comms; his terrified screams finally ending in silence.

One.

The familiar jolt of the drag-chute meant that he'd be meeting the same fate if nothing was done. Firing up the undercarriage rockets, he figured he'd been able to slow himself to a semi-decent speed before the ground rushed up to meet him.

Patrick groaned to himself after the pod hit the ground, giving his head a shake before popping the hatch and clambering his way out. It seemed like he'd landed in a small plaza, near the intersection of two streets.
Lucky?
No, clearly not. His HUD showed at least eight hostiles to the west, and if he were a human-hating alien, that huge crash might've piqued his interests. He grabbed his M45E with one hand, drawing his pistol with the other.
Corporal Ross sprinted to the western wall, setting himself against it before he set the shotgun down and reached for his radio.

"This is Corporal Ross. Still alive out here. I'm near the intersection of... uh... Stevens and Maynard? Got a big group of Covenant comin' up Fremont Avenue. Will be headin' towards you in a tick, Sarge. Just gonna check to see where the aliens plan on going."

Sliding his pistol back into it's holster, Patrick grabbed his shotgun and slowly moved down the wall, making a mental note of the two drop pods in his view range.
One was in view of the Covenant, and if that Marine didn't make some kind of escape...
Well, that wouldn't happen.

He peered around the corner, squinting his eyes and trying to make out the familiar shapes of their enemies amidst the rain.

Amber looked at Jameson and nodded at him knowing that the weather on the surface were going to most likely cause the whole team to land in different parts of the city or worse some of them would die on impact. She looked at the monitor once more and followed alongside her commanding officer until they were at the entrance to the Drop Pod Bay, Amber's eyes stared straight into Jameson's and gave him a salute. "Sir yes, sir. And meet you groundside or in hell whichever place we land in." She watched him heading towards his pod. Amber headed towards hers which was the very last one in the bay facing Truman's, she set her MA5C Assault Rifle into it's rack within her pod along with her field kit into a hanger on the other side of her pod and climbed in hooking her M7S SMG onto it's holster on her thigh.

04:22 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer

Once everything was tightly secured and fastened down inside her pod Amber pressed a button and closed the hatch to her pod looking through the small view port. “Bridge to Drop Bay, we are three mikes to drop zone. Stand by!” Hearing Captain Ramsey's voice through the coms Amber strapped herself and closed her eyes tightly always hating dropping down where so many variables could happen. She turned off the ODST anthem even though she enjoyed being a part of them Amber didn't want to listen not when the mission was to stressful. “Bridge to Drop Bay, T-Minus Five… Four… Three… Two…” called out the shipboard AI, Oberon, she heard the ship's AI's voice and then the sudden launch through the bottom of the Wayward Wanderer Amber gripped her thighs tightly at the sudden launch of speed into space and then the G-Forces going through as they went through the atmosphere.

She opened her eyes seeing the red hue of reentry heat running across the surface of the drop pod Amber watched as the other pods of Ghost going through the atmosphere, and then entered through the storm clouds. Once they were clear of the clouds Amber stared down at the destroyed city landscape on the ground below, what she didn't expect next was a sudden flash of lightening and stared at Truman's pod was struck by it Truman's parachute broke away hearing the call she dreaded to hear. “Oh god! I got hit by a bolt of lightning! My systems are fried! Mayday! Mayday! going down! I repeat, I’m going down! Mayday! Mayday! Oh god n-…” Amber couldn't do anything else and watched helplessly as Truman's Pod crash landed into the side of one of the wrecked skyscrapers.

Amber heard another clap of thunder and a flash of lightening hitting her own pod, she quickly took control of her own pod and instantly fired her maneuver thrusters to stabilize her pod crashed into the building violently Amber hit her head against the back of her helmet and seat and lost consciousness.

04:29 Hours
23 August, 2550
Solace City, Coronado Way
Solace Colony

Amber groaned loudly her head pounding she could feel something wet going down the side of her head, Amber removed her helmet to touch it and saw red in her hand she was alive feeling like she had a really bad hangover. She heard Jameson's voice yelling into the radio. "I'm alive felt like I was hit by a Brute's gravity hammer" Amber said and pinged her location on the map to the rest of the team. Amber went to push the release to her pod's hatch and refused to open she tried the manual release and they didn't budge either she even started to kick at the door with her armored boot the lightening fried and fused the door shut. "Damn it! Lightening struck my pod, and wont release." Amber said over the radio she looked over at the building seeing smoke coming from where Truman's pod had crashed. "I may need help."

The drop had been a blur, as always. A sudden feeling of extreme weightlessness and nausea followed swiftly by the loud roar of the atmosphere as it tried desperately to burn through the titanium-A plating of the drop pod and engulf him in flames, finished with the bone-shuddering jolt of the pod crashing into the planet. Yet, even despite the raging thunderstorm, Jace survived the drop. It had been a rough one, it'd be hard to forget the screams of PFC Truman coming through the comms link, but not his roughest thankfully. The mission, however, would forever be marred with Truman 'digging his own grave'. Not that he liked calling it that, but it's essentially what happened.

Popping his hatch almost immediately gave a loud hissing sound as the pod depressurised. Dust was thrown up all over the placed and he could hear faintly, the other thumps as his fellow ODSTs landed all over the city. Another sound, one of familiar squeals, kicked his trained instincts into overdrive and placed the direction of the sound to the forefront of his attention. Grunts. Unslinging his battle rifle from his back, he dove for the nearest wall. As he stood with his back against the half-destroyed wall of, from what he could tell, used to be a large warehouse, he clicked off the safety of his rifle and notched it into single shot mode. Crouching slightly and following the wall to his left, Jace angled the nozzle of his BR55HB around the corner of the wall. The weapon came with a built-in uplink that would display whatever the scopes were aimed at through his HUD.

The first thing he noticed were two road signs; Fremont Avenue and Maynard Boulevard. That's when he saw them, ambling cautiously onto the latter of the two roads. Two packs of Grunts. Three on the western side of the Avenue and four on the eastern. He then spotted two Elites herding the two packs. He instantly marked them using his VISR. The Grunts were outlined in orange whilst the Elites were red, to denote them as higher priority targets. Just then, static came through on his comms link, it had stopped working shortly after Truman's last message. Most likely interference from the storm.

"This is Corporal Ross. Still alive out here. I'm near the intersection of... uh... Stevens and Maynard? Got a big group of Covenant comin' up Fremont Avenue. Will be headin' towards you in a tick, Sarge. Just gonna check to see where the aliens plan on going."

It was the Second Squad's Breach Specialist. He was glad to hear his voice, he'd been worrying in the back of his mind about the comms but the sound of another marine put him at ease. He figured that if he could now receive comms he could also send them.

"Copy that Ross, this is Corporal Anders. I lost comms for a while there but I've got eyes on those covies you're seein'. Seven Grunts and two Elites. It looks like they've spotted something but it sure as hell ain't me."

He heard footsteps to his right. Flinching out of pure instinct, he spun his weapon toward the sound and dropped to one knee. The familiar shadow of ODST armour was the only thing that stopped him from pulling the trigger. His VISR marked the figure as green followed by a name; Corporal Tenjer. "Dammit Tenjer..." He said, replying to his two-way comm. "You scared the crap outta me, I nearly got the drop on you." Then answering his question, he followed up with, "We'd be better off keeping tabs on those covies back there." He pointed around the corner of the wall, having already moved away from the edge when he nearly shot his second squad counter-part. "It seems as if we're not as spread out after all. Ross is on the other side of that covie patrol. We could just sit tight, ping our position to the Gunny and wait for orders, but I have a bad feeling about that group."