SwiftOnRPGuild — Roleplayer Guild

04:24 Hours
23 August, 2550

It’d been nearly a dozen cycles since the Radiant Rampart had arrived at this forsaken hell hole, a planet that had been cleansed by the purifying fire of Covenant Plasma. Ship Master Kor’Vetal had been tasked by the Prophets to oversee this mission, and to see it done in completion. As he paced the bridge of his ship, he looked over the information he’d received. He and his unit had been dispatched to recover something of great importance to the Prophets. Only he knew exactly what it was, and how important it was.

Making his way down a ramp from the bridge, he stepped onto the gravity lift and went down to the surface of the destroyed world. He’d dispatched roughly three quarters of his unit to begin searching for an entry way into the catacombs beneath the rubble, knowing that what he had been sent for wad underground.

He stared up into the sky as rain continued to fall as a tremendous rate, and though the clouds above were thick, he swore he could see stars. As he focused, it dawned on them that these were not clouds, but rather drop pods. The enemy had arrived. They had come to find what he also had been sent to retrieve. Bellowing out a great growl, he caught the attention of his unit, and barked out a series of orders to them, alerting them of the incoming enemies.

Savoring the fact that he would get to meet his enemies in combat, he retrieved a plasma rifle from his thigh, and ran to bolster the ranks of his troops.

Behind him, the Radiant Rampart began to lift off from the ground. There was a standing order for it to retreat to high orbit in the event of enemy incursion, and wait until it was called upon to recover the unit.

- - -

The Titan Avenue block of Sarasota Boulevard

‘Lucky’ was the word that came to mind for PFC Crawley as she sat motionless in her drop pod, her MA5C held tightly in her hands as she tried desperately to fight the urge to panic. Unlike her friend and fellow Marine, PFC Truman, Crawley’s landing was rather uneventful. Letting the auto-pilot feature of her SOEIV drop pod guide itself, she landed with a soft touchdown on the outskirts of the city epicenter on Sarasota Boulevard.

But even though her insertion went without issue, she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed by the sounds of Truman’s death. It wasn’t until she heard the shouting of Master Gunnery Sergeant Jameson, that she actually seemed to snap to her situation. Blinking away her malaise, she sprung into action, the last remnants of fear gone in an instant as she reached for her drop pod’s hatch release, and climbed out of it. She sprinted for nearby cover, which happened to be the burnt out skeletal remains of an old minivan.

Checking the small data screen on her forearm, she pinged her comm link to reveal her location to the other Ghosts, and saw their own pinged locations. She wasn’t far from Sanders, Golovkin and even Sergeant Jameson. “Right…” she said to herself as she raised her weapon, keeping it level, and made her way in a south-westerly direction.

- - -

Near the corner Sarasota Boulevard and Cofax Avenue

Lance Corporal Donovan groaned as he returned to consciousness, his head aching painfully as he opened his eyes. Slowly the blur of his vision dissipated, and he realized why he had felt so disorientated; he was upside down. “God damn that sucked!” he commented to himself as he shook his head to clear the ringing sound in his ears. As he did, he realized his helmet had come lose in the crash.

He squinted his eyes as he searched for it in the darkness of his drop pod, evidently his systems had also been fried by lightning on the approach. Though somehow, he hadn’t tumbled uncontrollably into a structure the way Truman had. He wasn’t positive, but he felt certain that the PFC had surely met his fate on insertion.

Searching a little longer, Donovan’s eyes came upon his helmet, and they went wide with awe. “Holy shit…” he comment absently. When his pod had landed, a stray piece of durasteel rebar had penetrated the outer hull of his drop pod, and it went clean through to the other side. The bar had missed the left side of his abdomen by an inch or so. A slightly morose feeling came over him as he realized just how close he’d come to being out of the game, just like Truman had.

“I gotta move!” he exclaimed to himself as he unlatched his harness a little hastily, falling in a heap onto his shoulders. He grunted as dull pain surged through is large frame, and he reached for the emergency blow release for his pod hatch. There was a slight delay, then the door’s charges blew, and the hatch exploded out from his pod. Donovan let his feet fall down and out of the pod as he stood, and finally found his helmet.

As he slipped it over his head, the pitter-patter of the constant rain rang into his skull. He peered up toward the sky and saw a series of magnificent lightning bolts arc across it like a spider web. A second later her heard the Sergeant’s call for a status check, and he actuated his comm to signal. He reached for his MA5C, and released his safety as he turned away from his pod.

Looking to the southeast, he could see the faint flames of where Truman’s pod had crash landed; the rain would put them out in a moment he thought to himself.

"I may need help." came the call over the comm from Gunnery Sergeant Mullan, and Donovan looked further to the south. “This is Donovan, I’m en route to your location, Sergeant Mullan.” He announced as he polarized his VISR and began sprinting for her position.

- - -

Near the corner of Coronado Way and Cofax Avenue

Speed was the name of the game for Lance Corporal Croft when his drop pod had come to a rest, and without a moment’s hesitation or delay, he pulled the release handle of his drop pod’s hatch, and exited with his M45E raised and ready to fire. He relaxed however when his VISR hadn’t displayed any enemy contacts. Sighing deeply a moment, he turned back to his Pod to retrieve his M41 Rocket Launcher, slinging it over his back.

He peered up at the still pitch black sky as heavy droplets of rain continued to fall at an impressive rate. The sun had risen on Solace City, but the thick black clouds were far to thick to allow any sunlight in. “Perma-night…” he remarked as an impressive bolt of lightning arced across the sky, granting a moments illumination.

The drop was an extraordinary one for Croft, who was surprised that only one of their drop pods had been lost in it. The young PFC Truman, whom Croft barely knew. Croft knew casualties were a guarantee in this line of work, and that’s why he’d given up on getting to know new guys. He’d made the mistake of getting close to some of the other members of Ghost, and when they were killed, he swore he wouldn’t repeat that mistake. He rationalized that their deaths wouldn’t hurt as much, if he didn’t know them all that well.

Turning his attention back to his surroundings, he heard Jameson’s call, and actuated his comm for a split second, giving all he needed to report. He thought about heading west to meet up with the Master Gunnery Sergeant, but stopped when he heard Mullan’s distress call. “Coming to your position, Sergeant Mullan.” He voiced over comm as he began moving east, his weapon raised.

- - -

An alleyway between Sarasota Boulevard and Coronado Way

“Shit!” exclaimed Lance Corporal Sanders as she scrambled for the release level of her drop pod’s hatch, pulling it fervently. As the door raised slowly, Sanders sprawled out of her pod, and raised her weapon to make sure was clear. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed a little when she realized that she was in the clear for the moment.

Her pod’s auto-pilot system had malfunctioned during her approach to the city, and she was forced to pilot manually for the first time. She’d trained with the controls, but never during a live operation before, and her nerves got the better of her as she lost control roughly fifty feet from touchdown, ping-ponging against the burnt exteriors of two buildings as she landed in an alleyway.

She knew she was lucky to have not wound up like Truman, and was mad at herself for having lost control in the first place. It was mistake she knew she shouldn’t have survived. She swore it’d be her last, and when she heard the approach of someone from the north, she turned about and raised her weapon to take aim. As she did however, he VISR outlined the subject in green, and she didn’t pull the trigger.

“Crawley! God damnit, I almost shot you!” she hollered as she lowered her weapon.

- - -

At the T-Intersection of Maynard Boulevard and Fremont Avenue

Of all the Marines in hot water, Corporal McCoy was no doubt in the hottest. His drop pod had managed to land in front of the largest single group of the Covenant, and the big man had little to nothing in his way to take cover behind. As he peered out through the viewport of his pod, he saw the approaching group, and realized that the recon probe was wrong about the number of enemies; where he’d though to find nine, there were in fact eighteen.

“Fuck!” he blurted out as he scrambled for his M739, then depressed the emergency release actuator, and the door of his drop pod exploded out from him toward the amassed group. He raised his squad automatic weapon, and without hesitation he pulled the trigger. But rather than the familiar and comforting repeat of gunfire, he heard only a click, the telltale sign of a weapons malfunction. He looked down at his weapon, and in a panic he tried to pull back the charging lever to unjam it.

The simple motion of looking down at his malfunctioning weapon saved McCoy’s life however, as a searing hot bolt of blue plasma lanced just above it, leaving a trail of steam in it’s wake as it had instantly vaporized the droplets of rain that were falling from the sky. Splashing against the back of McCoy’s open drop pod, the radiant heat it put it off burned at his back painfully, while simultaneously melting a nice half-meter hole into the aluminum interior of his drop pod.

Looking up, McCoy darted from his pod, leaving behind his M319 in the process. As he ran, a dozen or so more blue bolts of covenant plasma whizzed past him, each leaving little trails of steam in their wake as the splashed against the backdrop.

“Taking fire!” called out McCoy as he dove for the only nearby cover he could find, the overturned wreckage of a burnt out car. As he went prone behind it, he tried again desperately to unjam his weapon by pulling on it’s charging lever. Pinned by a barrage of covenant fire, McCoy called out to his teammates for support. “Taking fire! I’m pinned down! Weapon has malfunctioned! I need immediate support!”

- - -

At the Triangular Intersection of Maynard, Stevens, and Cofax

Commander Aldridge’s insertion had also gone smoothly, but to her that was to be expected, and she’d never once had a moments doubt. Even when she overheard the panicked last words of PFC Truman as his drop pod smashed into a skyscraper, she never felt a moments worry. She was confident because she knew she would survive the war, either by the intervention of fate, or through her own.

With careful deliberation she unbuckled her harness and checked the data terminal attached to her left forearm. She’d landed exactly where she’d intended to land, though the others were scattered throughout the city. Sighing deeply she rolled her eyes at the inability of the Ghosts to land within her own area of insertion. She checked and saw a marker for where PFC Truman’s drop pod had impacted with a skyscraper, and without an ounce of care applied a ‘KIA’ tag to it.

As she heard the call of the Master Gunnery Sergeant demanding a status check, she mused him with a single ping of her comm. In truth, she didn’t care if the Sergeant knew she was alright, and she was willing to bet he didn’t care either. However, she needed the Ghosts cooperation if she was going to get into Asgard base and silence that meddling AI. Everything counted on it, and she didn’t care who died, so long as Loki was destroyed.

“Taking fire!” came the comm of one of the nearby Ghosts, and Aldridge saw that it was Corporal McCoy, just to her east. He had already encountered the Covenant, and was in need of support. Checking her readouts, she saw that eighteen, not nine, Covenant troops were approaching his position. She didn’t like those odds, so she refused to accept them. Reaching for her stowed M7S, she pulled the release lever for her drop pod hatch, and exited.

But rather than heading east to assist the in peril Marine, she headed south, betting that she could slip past the Covenant as they went for McCoy.

- - -

In an alleyway North of Stevens Street

PFC April had heard the cried of his fellow ODST, and clenched shut his eyes as he prayed to God that the man would survive, but in his heart knew that he wouldn’t. The static that hissed from the comm a moment after Truman’s last words were cut off cemented this outcome, and April began rehearsing the lords prayer in his mind. In the week or so that he’d been assigned to Ghost, he’d actually come to know Truman rather well, and it stung April to know he was gone.

Auto-pilot systems guided April’s drop pod into a relatively empty alleyway between two destroyed complexes, but as when he touched down, the wreckage shifted and his drop pod somersaulted down a mound until it came to a rest facing the stormy sky above. With gritted teeth he waited until he’d come to a complete stop, and only then did he open his eyes to see that he’d indeed survived insertion. As he took a deep breath of relief, he remembered the fate of his friend, and shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Move, Joe!” he said aloud to himself as he reached for the release lever of his drop pod, and watched as it lifted open. Heavy rain drops began to fall down onto him, and he saw the flash of lightning in the tortured sky. Retrieving his MA5C, he climbed up out of his pod, and down over the edge as he looked to his surroundings a moment. Then the call in for him to locate, and he pinged his comm. He saw the other pings, and realized he wasn’t far from Corporal Acosta, as well as Sergeant Archer.

As he moved down away from the mound of debris, he heard the Sergeant’s call for backup, and began double-timing it to his position. He couldn’t believe how swiftly his feet moved as he ran, and how he felt an absence of fear, given he was headed for the Covenant.

He felt like and ODST.

- - -

The Barrier Road block of Maynard Boulevard

“Oh shit! Ohhhhh shit! Ooooh shit! Shit! Ahhh shit! Oh shit!” was all that Wiley could profess during his atmospheric entry, glad that he’d silenced his outgoing comm. He’d never dropped before, and he was certain he wouldn’t ever want to again after this one. The vibrations of his pod cutting through the atmosphere nearly drove the fillings right out of his teeth, and the intense G-Forces caused him to vomit up his breakfast.

Though he immediately wished that had been the worst of his problems when he heard Truman’s cries over the comm. “Oh no…” he commented blankly as the taste of bile suddenly didn’t seem so bad. He had been with Truman at boot camp prior to their first assignments, and when they found themselves assigned to Ghost together, they re-kindled an old friendship. “…no, no…” he continued as he heard the static overtake Truman’s cries.

“…ahhhhh!” he screamed as his drop pods landing thrusters were fired by the auto-pilot, his attention going to the viewport, and the barely visible city scape beyond it.

When he finally touched down in a small courtyard outside of an old burnt out office building, he waited until his drop pod stopped moving before he stopped screaming. He opened his clenched eyes, and as reality returned to him, he undid his harness and leant forward. He pulled the release lever of his hatch and climbed out, leaving his rifle behind a moment.

“Tom!” he called out over his comm, hoping to hear something from his friend. “Truman! C’mon Buddy, you gotta still be alive!” he looked at the data pad on his arm, and saw the last know position of Truman’s drop pod. Looking off to the northeast, he could scarcely see the particular skyscraper that Truman’s pod had crashed into. Only when the sky was illuminated by the spectacular display of lightning could he actually make it out.

“Tom! Tom!” he called out on the comm. “C’mon, Buddy! Answer me!” he called out, and when nothing but silence returned, he felt sick to his stomach. Dropping to his knees, he hunched over as he fought the desire to sob over his friend’s apparent death.

- - -

The Barrier Road block of Josten Avenue

Exiting his drop pod, PFC Tuckk raised his SRS99 Sniper Rifle and checked his surroundings for enemies before taking a moment to actually figure out where he was. As he adjusted the zoom settings of his scope, he sighted up another drop pod that had landed near the old charred remnants of a tree. He watched as the hatch to the pod opened, and a Marine stepped out of it. Focusing, he was relatively sure that the Marine was Corporal Davis.

Zooming in past the Corporal, Tuckk caught sight of the enemy, and as he counted, he realized the intel they’d received was wrong. Whereas the clarion probe had shown six enemies making their way down Josten Avenue, there was actually twelve. Using his scopes computer, he marked the twelve Covenant on his locator, transmitting said enemies to the rest of the squad. As he zoomed further, he could actually make out what they were, and saw that there were two Elites, four Jackals, and six grunts.

“Shit!” he remarked aloud as he sighted up one of the Elites who barked some sort of command at the others. They were moving toward Corporal Davis, and they were moving fast.

- - -

In an alleyway west of Titan Road

The mad Russian had managed what he always had when he dropped, and had actually fallen asleep in his harness and seat. Despite being a veteran, Leonid trusted the auto-piloting controls of the SOEIV drop pods, and let them do the business as he simply relaxed. He was so relaxed indeed, that before the ODST anthem had even started, he was out. So deep in his sleep was he that he hadn’t even heard the cries of Truman as he plummeted to his death, and was entirely oblivious to this.

Only when there came an actual knock at the outer door of his drop pod did he stir from his slumber, looking up to see a Marine standing outside. Yawning he undid his harness and leant forward to stretch a moment before he actually unlatched his drop pod door. “What you want? I was sleeping!” he expressed angrily as he saw that the Marine who’d awoken him was Sergeant Danforth.

“You crazy fucking Russian! Get up, and get moving! We’ve got enemies planet side, and you’re god damned asleep!” Danforth was clearly aggravated as he hollered at Leonid. He looked over his shoulder to the west, then to the north where he could see another drop pod atop a mound of charred debris. “We’ve already lost a man, let’s go!” he turned back to Leonid, who had slowly stood up from his pod, and had gone to retrieve the mission critical piece of hardware.

“One minute… must grab nuke.” He explained as he opened an compartment on the left side of his drop pod. “Which one die?” he asked as he hefted the big tactical nuke from the compartment, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Truman… he didn’t survive the drop.” Danforth replied, his trusty MA5B raised and leveled to the north as he waited for Leonid to be ready to move.

After having slung the nuke, Leonid retrieved his M7S and extended it’s collapsible stock before shouldering the weapon. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

- - -

In an alleyway between Fremont Avenue and Stevens Street

In reality, what Sergeant Archer assumed to be seven Covenant troops, had actually been fourteen, the second largest group on the ground. Due to the severe electrical storm raging overhead, the Clarion probe had provided bad intel on the situation, for each blip there were actually two enemies. While the city was pitch black, save for the occasional lightning strike, the Covenant were aware of the Marines when their drop pods landed about the city.

And when Sergeant Archer’s drop pod landed so very close to one group, the excitement of said group was too much to control. Charging forth uncontrollably were the grunts, eight of them, half armed with a plasma pistol, half armed with a needler. The guttural language they spoke sounded like the yip-yap barking of a small dog, and as they grew close to the Sergeant’s drop pod, they opened fire.

Streaks of steam trailed behind roughly a dozen or so green bolts of plasma , and a flurry of glowing energy shards darted out at the drop pod as the grunts fired wildly. The plasma splashed, burned, and melted the aluminum interior skin of the pod, sparking a small series of fires that flashed into and out of existence in the heavy rain. The pink glowing energy shards pierced the skin of the pod like splinters before exploding, spraying the interior with more shards.

Growling loudly at the foolishness of his grunts, the Elite leading the group charged forward to try and regain control of the little methane breathers. Staying behind were three Jackals that raised their shield gauntlets and activated them. As they took refuge behind their energy barriers, they leveled their own plasma pistols down the alleyway, waiting for something or someone to present themselves as a target.

- - -

The Coronado Way block of Titan Road

As Corporal Golovkin made the twenty-four floor journey down from where his drop pod had landed, he could feel the rumbling of the structure shifting beneath his feet. Apparently the added stress of his self, and his drop pod had thrown off the careful balance of the building’s compromised super structure. Above him he could hear the snapping of weakened support beams and of old burnt concrete cracking apart. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be buried alive within the burnt and charred rubble as it came down upon him.

As he approached what he knew to be Golovkin’s position, Master Gunnery Sergeant Jameson stopped as he felt the ground beneath him starting to rumble. The building that the Corporal had landed in was coming down, and it was doing so in a hurry. “Golovkin! The building’s collapsing, move your ass!” he said over the comm, looking up as he saw the top five floors pancake downward in what felt like an instant.

SwiftOnRPGuild Member

Status

Bio

Most Recent Posts