228 followed the escaping Remnants, avoiding gunfire and silently taking out any stragglers who fell too far behind the main group. By the time they'd met up with a wounded Elite, who was carrying a duffle bag. "LT, that bag's got a Forerunner energy sig coming from it. I think that's our escapee from the data archives." 228 took a moment to shift his aim from the Elite he'd been following to the one with the duffle, lining up a shot with his knee. "Copy that, Alice." Inhaling, he exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger past it's first point and then firing.
*CRACK*
The sound echoed in the metal halls loudly, and 228 silently thanked whatever God was out there his helmet was designed to reduce noise. Even then, it was still loud and his ears rang loudly. The Elite carrying the bag, however, didn't get the chance to figure out what it was as his knee on his left leg was obliterated by the .50 caliber round. As he went down, letting loose an exclamation of pain, he threw the bag to the one 228 had followed and said something in their own language. "Oh no you don't." He placed his rifle on his back and sprinted at the pair, deactivating his active camo and drawing his katana. The wounded Elite shouted a warning to his friend, who turned back towards the Spartan, but could only gasp in surprise as the blade pierced his gut. "Thanks for leading me right to the leader. Enjoy whatever place you call hell." Twisting the sword, 228 cut it out of the Elite's side and picked up the dropped duffle bag.
Checking inside and satisfied that the weapon was unharmed, he approached the wounded Elite and sheathed his katana again, drawing his pistol and ramming it into the side of his head. "Don't move, Split-Jaw, or my finger might twitch." Turning off the external speakers, he turns on his radio. {Command, this is 228. Weapon and data is secure along with the Elite responsible for the raid. Have medical and a containment cell prepped, I had to blow his knee.}
*CRACK*
The sound echoed in the metal halls loudly, and 228 silently thanked whatever God was out there his helmet was designed to reduce noise. Even then, it was still loud and his ears rang loudly. The Elite carrying the bag, however, didn't get the chance to figure out what it was as his knee on his left leg was obliterated by the .50 caliber round. As he went down, letting loose an exclamation of pain, he threw the bag to the one 228 had followed and said something in their own language. "Oh no you don't." He placed his rifle on his back and sprinted at the pair, deactivating his active camo and drawing his katana. The wounded Elite shouted a warning to his friend, who turned back towards the Spartan, but could only gasp in surprise as the blade pierced his gut. "Thanks for leading me right to the leader. Enjoy whatever place you call hell." Twisting the sword, 228 cut it out of the Elite's side and picked up the dropped duffle bag.
Checking inside and satisfied that the weapon was unharmed, he approached the wounded Elite and sheathed his katana again, drawing his pistol and ramming it into the side of his head. "Don't move, Split-Jaw, or my finger might twitch." Turning off the external speakers, he turns on his radio. {Command, this is 228. Weapon and data is secure along with the Elite responsible for the raid. Have medical and a containment cell prepped, I had to blow his knee.}