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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?_

Guess I'll take the first crack at a Spartan. Name: Julián-Ángel G097 Nickname : Angel (Ángel) Gender: Male Age:24 Appearance: Short, jet-black hair. Fair skinned for someone fluent in Spanish. Although 24, could pass for mid-30s. Hazel, attentive eyes. Stands approximately seven feet tall. Not quite bulky, but muscular and toned, like most Spartans. Weight of 268 pounds. Around a half-ton with armor. Genetically enhanced bones and muscle growth. Type: Spartan Rank: Spartan Armor/Clothing: Standard Spartan MJOLNIR armor. The suit's shielding apparatus has long been dysfunctional, making Julián rely on himself rather than the armor. Suit has been painted over in an urban camouflage pattern. Weapons: SRS99C-Series 3 AM Bolt action Sniper Rifle. Toggling standard/night vision scope. Barrel rail with detachable range finder mounted 90 degrees from scope. Accurate up to 2.5 kilometers, depending on the shooter. Outfitted to shoot .45 caliber, .41 caliber, .454 caliber, and 410 gauge shotgun shells similar to the Taurus Raging Judge. Side arm is an intermittent-working M6D. Clip holder is busted from being dropped a long distance, so magazine must be held in with pinkie finger while firing. Pistol also jams approximately one every five shots. Equipment: Two bottles of water, a half-eaten box of protein bars, a quarter aerosol can of gun oil, a rag, sharpened safety scissors, and cheap crayola face paint, all contained within a small, worn-out black book bag. As far as ammo goes, sixteen .45 240 grain bullets, six 410 caliber shotgun shells, two .454 caliber 270 grain bullets, and one Spartan III grapple round with coil. Fourteen M6D rounds left. Standard Spartan II MJOLNIR, with the exception of the shielding and the addition of camo. Personality: Julián is reserved, but not altogether unfriendly. His speech is quick, concise, to the point. His loyalty to his team is unmatched. He is often called 'Angel' because of his savior-like tendency to protect others. He puts himself at risk before allowing anyone to be injured. Ángel's defining trait, however, is his memory. Similar to the marine snipers of old, he only needs glance at anything to remember it perfectly. He is genetically tailored to deciphering patterns, codes, etc. History: Julián knows very little of his history with his parents. Being "adopted" by the UNSC at such a young age did have its disadvantages. It also had it merits, however. The importance of glory and combat-readiness molded him into a go-getter, always looking to improve himself. Basic Spartan training proved to be a breeze. It was not until more specialized training that Julián discovered...road blocks. "¡Mírame, chico!" Chief Petty Officer Ferguson said, smirking, gun in arms. _Watch me, boy!_ "Bolt goes back, forward, safety off, fire!" he continued. It all happened quickly after that, even for Julián's sense of the word. The bolt came back, forward, the safety was pressed off -_click_-, and....CPO Ferguson fired once. Perfect shot, despite the fierce wind. The bolt came back again, chucking the smoking cartridge of a .50 caliber hollow point. A push forward and it was set to fire again. The safety again made a quiet but audible click, and CPO sighted up. Suddenly a loud crack. Not a bullet, no, but the bolt bouncing hard enough to free itself from the gun and become a projectile. Julián watched it come back and catch CPO Ferguson just above the left eye. Ferguson's grip on the gun loosened, then completely faltered. Where the bolt hit, skull is cracked skin is broken, and blood is flowing. The CPO fell back into Julián's arms, unconscious. All in all, it was an event frightening enough to make most avoid firearms entirely. Even for the young Spartan, it was traumatizing. He still suppresses a flinch to this day. More recently, Julián's endeavors involve mostly playing deterrent to any insurrectionists scheming against Reach. He happened to be in New Alexandria to check up on security detail when the Flood reappeared. New orders cut out after a while, so it must've hit some of the top brass. Several days of survival and a few rounds of ammo later.... Other: "Oh, shi-" (This is my first RP in over 6 years, so please inform me if I messed anything up)

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