Reach was once a bastion of human civilization. But it was consumed by the plasma fires of an old war. Still, it held on. It came back, reformed, rebuilt, regrown. But the Flood didn't care for what Reach represnted. They only saw it as something else to _consume_. _Consume, consume, consume_. That's all the parasitic abominations could think, swarming in hordes through the streets of New Alexandria. _Consume, consume, consume_. Screams were dying down, now. New Alexandria presented little challenge at this point. With so few combat forms and two hundred infection forms, it was difficult to press on the city. But one made it through. It only takes one spark to start a fire. _Consume, consume, consume_. They must eat... I-we-must... Eat... I... I have to fight it! _Consume, consume, consume_. Stop... Please... _Consume, consume, consume_. I... I can't... Can't... C-c-on... _Consume, consume, consume_. C-c-on-consume... _Consume, consume, consume_. Consume... Consume... Consume... _Consume, consume, consume_. Consume, consume, consume. _Consume, consume, consume_. _Consume, consume, consume_. _We are the Flood. You are the Flood. We are all._

Vorro was holding down a flood combat form and beating it to. He didn't hold back as he hit it punch after punch. One other dead combat forms were spread out in the room he was in. After the flood combat form he was hitting stopped moving he stood up. He put his foot on its Chester for leverage and ripped off and arm to see if it was really dead. He breathed heavy and his shield began to recharge. Had it not been for his shield strength, he probably wouldn't have been able to last long enough to kill the three. He leaned against the wall of the room he was in. He reached out to a few people. "Are all of you all right?" He sat down waiting for a response. His armor was scrapped and scratched from the struggle. "If they had no been distracted by trying to get to you, then I probably wouldn't have been able to do that."

The artificial, sterile LED lamp was all that illuminated the frigid, dark room. It's been a solid 3 hours since hes been in here. The shuffles outside lend to about 2 or so combat forms and a recently diseased former squad mate, who he and Ol' Bill(who just 15 mins ago succumbed to similar wounds) had to leave behind at the request of the dearly departing. Lenny only wished he was a better shot, and ended the poor fellows suffering before the door magnetically shut closed. Taking inventory he found a few damage packs that could be used to booby trap his and Bill's body if he finally wanted to call it quits... Still, his old portable radio still worked, and supposing anyone (friendly) was still alive to respond to a distress call he'd be just ecstatic. Then again, others could track him, hunt him, hurt the "Nuke Duck;" maybe a nice bouquet of the grenade variety, hanging precariously over the door frame would be a better idea. He liked the latter, but either way he was dead, might as well go with the one that garners a little bit of hope. He dusted off the old G.I. radio and well do what he assumed you'd do: "PFC Bennewitz of Echo Outpost, Emergency Civil Defence, ID 2517D13. This is a NA class broadcast on a multiple secure channels. Requesting backup to Miranda St. metro station maintenance room in the east bound tunnel. Squad is negative. Electromagnetic locks in place on door. Password is Echo Zulu." With that he nonetheless prepared that bouquet on a (disarm-able) trip wire for those pesky neighbors causing a racket outside.

Julián looked out over the sea of destruction below him, rifle in hand. Reach, once the pinnacle of UNSC military strength. 20 MAC guns strong, and that was saying something. _First the Covenant's glassing, and now this_. In a matter of days, a rehabilitated planet had fallen as far as it ever had. Bodies festered, littering the streets. Blue and red blood mixed with the distinct yellow contaminant spewed by the flood, painting the sidewalks. It had been a massacre. Well, massacre didn't quite do it justice. At least _we're_ still fighting back. For perhaps the hundredth time that day, he slid back the bolt of his rifle to check the barrel for a cartridge. Knowing it was pointless, he thought, _Old habits die hard_. A gleaming .454 caliber bullet lay waiting in the chamber. Julián sighed. _Ay santo._ He still harbored the hope of setting things right, saving as many as he could, as did the others. Seeing a scene such as this did anything but reassure him. At least, for the time being, they were safe. This particular rooftop had provided good lookout for long enough. The building had proved fairly defensible as well, or so they thought. The silence gave way to a loud thudding. Julián leaped towards the rooftop door, flinging it open hard enough to snap hinges. He sprinted three flights down to where the others were, drawing his M6D in the process. He shuffled in a clip from his pack. At the end of the stairs, Julián opened a second door and sprinted down a corridor. He arrived at the scene in time to see an eight foot figure in shining armor down a flood combat form. The fight had already ceased. To Vorro, he said "¿Estás bien?" _Are you ok?_

>"PFC Bennewitz of Echo Outpost, Emergency Civil Defence, ID 2517D13. This is a NA class broadcast on a multiple secure channels. Requesting backup to Miranda St. metro station maintenance room in the east bound tunnel. Squad is negative. Electromagnetic locks in place on door. Password is Echo Zulu." Twix paused as the voice, clipped through with static, filled his helmet. He glanced at the stim, ready in his hand and with an effort of will placed it back in his backpack. He wasn't too far from Miranda St. metro, perhaps a 5 minute walk if the streets weren't full of flood. Thought the flood had been dealt with, fucking Spartans, can't do anything right. He slowly moved to a crouching position, grabbed his sniper rifle which had been leaning against the wall next to him and slung it over his back. Pistol at the ready he carefully stood up, he was standing behind the counter of a corner shop, the shop was empty and from what he could see the street outside the shop was deserted aswell. **"Bennewitz, this is Private Mile, ODST. Transmission received, I am enroute to Miranda station" He paused, thought for a moment and continued. "ETA 20 minutes, Confirm?"** He crept over to the door and peered out into the street, as he had seen from the counter the street was deserted, though for how long was anyones guess. He left the shop and turned right, heading towards Miranda station, He walked crouched down and carefully as if hunting, listening for any sound that might indicate Flood nearby.

He had seen the thick black pillars of smoke from the air, thousands of them dotted across the city that stretched to every horizon, and they painted a hellish picture of the once proud beacon of man's continued perseverance. It was a near perfect recreation of the video images he'd examined of the planet's previous annihilation, though at that time great covenant ships had hung in the air above with their menacing blue-burning engines and shimmering purple frames. Emmett-G355 had still been in training then, only weeks away from his graduation into the true ranks of the Spartans, and had only been deployed after the planet was glassed. He had been upset at the time, angered at the Covenant's relentless slaughter and his commander's decision not to send his company to Reach, but now as he gazed upon the ruined city he found that he felt... _... nothing_. His calls for landing clearance were never received, or rather they never got him a response, and after nearly an hour sitting in orbit he finally brought the landing cruiser down from the interplanetary transport whose autopilot had carried him back to reach. The crew was dead, the ship empty, as the Flood infection they'd discovered on Pharyx-9 had claimed them all and so now the ship hung silently in orbit like a gravestone. Emmett brought the cruiser down onto an empty platform at one of the UNSC's inner-city outposts and came out of the bay door with rifle at the ready but nothing appeared to welcome him. The halls of the office were in disarray, abandoned; the armory all but looted; and the Spartan passed by the overturned desks and pooled stains of red that had long dried into the carpet with nothing but a passing glance. Exiting the dark, empty halls Emmett's heavy boots crunched against broken glass as he stepped out onto the terrace, pulled the LxVII Thermal-Eye Binoculars off the magnetic strip on his waist, and looked down to the streets below. [i]10... 50... 100...[/i] The number of shambling, twisted figures rose quickly as he scanned down the block and realized the entire area was infested, the concentration being directly below him at the UNSC building's street entrance. "Shit..." He finally muttered aloud, breaking the silence that was enclosing him. >"PFC Bennewitz of Echo Outpost, Emergency Civil Defence, ID 2517D13. This is a NA class broadcast on a multiple secure channels. Requesting >backup to Miranda St. metro station maintenance room in the east bound tunnel. Squad is negative. Electromagnetic locks in place on door. >Password is Echo Zulu." Emmett's channel scanner finally picked up a signal coming over an emergency channel and his HUD displayed an estimated area from which it was being broadcast. It wasn't too far, half a dozen blocks, but he would have to find a way around the monsters below. There was a building next to his, one with several large windows and that stretched the majority of the street. If he could just find a way over there... A clatter from the office caused the Spartan to spin around, gun raised with finger on the trigger, and he spent a long moment staring into the darkness. Emmett would have to find a way across and fast. They were coming.

The grenades now hang beautifully above the door, done expertly and quickly. He didn't want toot his own horn but this was a finely crafted explosive ordinance trap, one such that should be admir- > "Bennewitz, this is Private Mile, ODST. Transmission received, I am enroute to Miranda station" He paused, thought for a moment and continued. "ETA 20 minutes, Confirm?" Lenny was surprised to say the least to get a response so soon, while sad he had to take down the trap in the near future, he was relieved someone friendly received the call. "Confirmed ODST. 3 or 4 hostiles in area. Suggest course of action, multiple HE devices on person, will render assistance if needed." ODST usually operated in squads, hopefully the friendly will be bringing backup. It'd be nice to have a deadeye firing squad at your back, makes setting fuses so much easier.