Movement through hostile territory was always a gamble. As her run-in with the patrol had shown minutes earlier, the threat could be around any corner or turn in the trail. Reaching the clearing where the land-clearance started, Robin took a knee behind a fallen tree and set eyes on a pair of guard towers that loomed beyond. Each one was on something of the high ground overlooking the surrounding terrain, manned by small Covenant forces. Even though they all knew by now, Robin quickly gave a double-flash of her acknowledgement light to let them know she'd found further Covenant forces.
She waited for cloud cover to distort and darken the moon overhead before she slipped out from the treeline. She moved fast and at a crouch for a dip between the two until dropping to her belly would put something like defilade between she and the tower to either side. It was slow work after that belly-crawling almost as far as the wind moved the grass. All the while she could watch the indicators of her teammates as they communicated the presence of enemies, and she could watch their indicators on her HUD as they moved.
While Vik and Arthur were busy dealing with a guard tower, Robin was laying flat in a rock-concealed divot while a Jackal sniper watched over the depression.
While Delaney was finishing off the last of the snipers that had troubled him, Robin was dragging with mud smeared over the front of her armor another thirty meters past the towers.
Ten meters later, she was back on her feet and jogging again.
"Mum? I found what you asked for."
She grunted in exertion, jogging ever closer, "What are we looking at?"
"Tri-beam communication from a ground post to ships in orbit. But its heavily encrypted."
"Encrypted how, George?
"I can't access it remotely, but if you could gain access to a hard-point - "
"Stove their RATELO's head in and take over the set." She grinned, "Got it."
Victoria was truly in her element. Lying prone on the ground at the dead of night, covered in mud, filth, and with a camo netting over herself, the stock of her SRS nestled into her shoulder and the crook of her neck. This was where the youngest SPARTAN within the fireteam excelled. She was the guardian of her fellow DRAGONs. It was her wrath that would reach out and strike down the Covenant forces impudent enough to stand in their way, to smite those who would dare fire upon them.
And so Vic rained death upon the enemy, as her targets were called out by the members of her team. First the Elite as requested by Viktoria and Arthur's infiltration duo. The Covenant grav-platforms might provide excellent vantage points for sentries, but they left their troops remarkably exposed. Had the aliens never heard of a bunker? Still, Vic wasn't about to complain as she aligned her scope on the alien creature, adjusted slightly for the increased elevation, let out a slow breath, and gently pulled on the trigger of her SRS, followed by a quick blink of her green status light, indicating she'd sent a round downrange.
She kept her scope trained upon the platform as the Elite went down and Arthur and Viktoria mopped up, just to make sure. She was in the best position to cut down any fleeing Grunts or Jackals, after all. But her services in that capacity was hardly required, it seemed like.
And so, Vic shifted her focus away from her scope, instead using the enhanced binocular functions of her Mk.IV Scout helmet to scan the field before her, observing the movements of the Covenant patrols, and check up on her team. Especially as one of those Ghosts began to move. She was about to shift back to her SRS and bring it to bear on the hovercraft when she spotted Bill's IFF overlapping with the Ghost.
'Chief's taking a joy-ride...' she thought bemusedly to herself, before giving a quick scan of the area where Robin and Delaney were operating.
And then there was Delaney's request. The faintest curl of her lip indicated her amusement that the loud demolitions expert had to call in her help, knowing that he'd probably be grumbling about the fact. She could almost hear him griping. Still, she wasn't about to leave him hanging.
She adjusted her position slightly, bringing her SRS to bear on the indicated position, observing the Jackals in their little nest, jerking about with those distinctly bird-like motions. It made Jackals easier and harder to snipe at the same time, because they could stand completely still one second, and then jerk their head back faster than any human possibly could in the next. She'd heard ODST and Marine drill sergeants instruct their snipers to aim for a Jackal's torso because of their erratic motions. Vic just felt that was lazy.
Once again she trained her scope on the Jackals in question. Waited for it to twitch A minute adjustment. A slow and deep exhale. Her finger pulling lightly on the trigger. And then the satisfying thump of the stock impacting her shoulder, and the thunderous roar of her SRS spitting doom once more, while she flashed a green indicator light to Delaney's HUD.
With two aliens down, and nobody else currently requesting her assistance, she activated the tight-beam direct laser comms to the rest of DRAGON. "Two rounds down. Two in mag."
Best they all knew if and when Vic'd need to reload, after all...
As the SPARTANS approach the Covenant base they begin to scan the way forward. They note now that they penetrated the heavily guarded outer line of defences that the foot patrols have significantly declined. However, it would be remiss to say that they aren't out of the woods just yet (figuratively of course). To the dismay of the SPARTANs they realize that this base will be a tough nut to crack.
The Covenant base consists of a three story main building with three (3) outer buildings with two stories. The main building is administrative and houses a landing pad and communications array. It is in this location that SPARTANs Viktoria and Arthur believe the Prophet is holed up in. The second building of importance is the communications hub. The central area where members of the base monitor communications, sensors, and radar (it has a nice dish on it). The third building of importance is the power-hub, where the reactor is based and how all the electronics are powered. It is distinguishable because of the wide array of wires that are connected to it. Finally there is another building, not very... important but there are a lot of Engineers around hovering in and out as needed.
So the basis of this section of the thread will be us doing our various tasks. Make sure you note that there are various checkpoints and towers with a perimeter wall around the base. Jackal snipers are posted in these towers and for the checkpoint they are manned by a lance of Unggoy led by an Elite. With the main entrance guarded by two plasma machine gun emplacements flanking the gate. The area is also lit up bright to make it difficult for anyone to approach unseen.
Furthermore, the SPARTANS are also on the clock, the people we killed are expected to report in every 10 minutes with an all clear. There is also the well manned barracks 1 km away down a main road to the East of the main entrance. If I missed anything of interest message me on Discord or pm me on the site.
Avoiding the patrols that followed was a careful game of watching the others' indicators and keeping an eye on their positions as marked in her HMD. It was good sense that if somebody flashed twice and went still, the smart call was to keep distant but loiter around within the area to make sure she was there if help was needed. Yet Robin couldn't afford to wait too long: everyone else was waiting on her. Hell, their ride home in orbit was waiting on her. Because several large, nasty Covenant vessels sat in an array between low atmo and high orbit to the point that some of those curving, intimidating forms could be seen even in what little natural light came through cloud cover.
Robin's main priority was focused on moving as quickly but quietly around those patrols and checkpoints she found as she could. She only had one objective in mind.
When she found the outpost, she was on something of a high-ground rise just within the camouflage dome and she could start to piece the compound together for her own reference. Really though, everything she saw was simply in supplement to Victoria's eagle eyes. It was nice and well to update a mark of a general Elite as a Zealot or what have you, but there was almost no way she was going to try and keep up with the near-mute sniper in designating targets as they appeared and disappeared from within the structures - just updating them. So her main attention was focused on the structure.
Each one was transmitted to the others wordlessly. This close to their main base and with their communications to those heavier assets still running, it would be nearly suicide to risk any sort of transmission. Each update was just followed by a blink of her green indicator light until the last had been marked. Finally she turned to her objective in all this, just past the fifteen-foot perimeter wall: the communications hub so clearly standing out from all the rest. She turned to regard the position on her HUD that signaled where Vic was hiding in overwatch and gave a few quick signals.
Pointing to herself, two fingers over her mouth, then a thumbs down. I'm mic dead.
Then a fist pumped twice in the air, a flash of five fingers, and a motion to the others on HMD. Get ready, five minutes, tell the others. A tight-beam transmission going to a non-transmitting source wouldn't be exposed in the same way.
Robin turned to the wall and rose out from the crouch. It was a ten meter opening between one tower to the next and if she timed it right - well she wouldn't clear it perfectly without contact, but she'd be able to get pretty damn close. So once she was sure she was clear she took off at a sprint for the wall. Running hard and prepping.
When she hit the wall, she tried not to wheeze too hard, but she also managed to get a firm grip on the top of the wall. She had to give an extra heft to get her bulk over the wall and come down onto the dirt on the other side with shotgun nearly in hand before she'd landed. Eyes scanned left and right under the shifting EVA helmet and when it seemed like nobody had noticed, she rushed for the entrance to the communications hub from shadow to shadow.
Any other day, any other time, a wall would not have been viewed as an obstacle to a Spartan with a dangerous predilection for explosives. Yet here he was, a crate chock full of dangerously fun explosives with no clearance to deploy them to make a way. Delaney grumbled, flat on his stomach, dragging his crate slowly behind him- of course, slow was subjective to the subject at hand: him on his all fours made greater speed than an average marine in full body gear.
Delaney had purposely swung wide around the base to avoid the bulk of the guard towers, but he still had to contend with at least one that overlooked a small earthen dip- he presumed it to be a dried up river bed, and gave him slightly better concealment from his flanks.
He watched silently as the jackal manning his tower yawn, scratching his head. In that split second he quickly crawled forward until he was under the tower's blind spot and against the perimeter wall. The wall was roughly 15 ft- not an issue. He edged alone the wall until he found himself a little a-ways from the base of the tower- enough that he could jump over without being seen by the sentinel. Delaney gingerly lowered the crate and made sure it stood up. At its length, it barely crested 5 ft.
Pulling out his pistol from its holster, Delaney crouched, and then sprung up onto the wall not unlike a cat- his landing could have been a touch more graceful. He swept the area over the wall with bated breath, balanced precariously on the top of the wall. When no one came to investigate, he slipped the pistol back. With a hand gripping the wall, he leaned back down, feet spread out to better balance himself as he struggled to get a hold on his package.
Eventually, but not without silent cursing, he was able to secure the package. One hand securing himself to the wall and the other with a vice grip on the crate, Delaney hauled himself over- slipped!- and entered a tuck and roll, hugging the crate with his body. Immediately as he realized he wasn't in the process of falling down he unwrapped himself and pulled out his weapon, lying on his back. Even with the copious amount of padding he couldn't risk having the Covenant foot patrols hearing his fall. What surprised him was that- there was no initial reaction. No yells, no hurried pattering- he heard, if muffled, the inquisitive squawk of the jackal sniper.
Not good. He quickly got back to his feet and took the crate with him. Before anyone could come and investigate he dashed to the nearest structure, slinking into the shadows. His HMD light flashed green once indicating his successful infiltration to the rest of his team.
"George." he whispered, peaking around the corner of his structure. The tight-beam channel he used to communicate with the team's AI was secure- in theory. "Yes sir?" came the smooth, cultured reply.
Victoria was quite content to remain where she was, prone on her high ridge, in the shadow of the mighty tree, being the guardian angel of the rest of DRAGON. Oh sure, she'd need to reload soon, but she was in the position she loved, raining death upon her enemies, while protecting her family. Nothing else made Victoria feel quite so... right. It was where she belonged. And so, she swept her enhanced gaze from Delaney, to Vik and Arthur, to Bill, and last but certainly not least, to Robin.
She observed as the self-proclaimed 'Team Mom' approached the outpost, instinctively turning off her helmet's enhanced zoom, just as she nestled herself up against her SRS, relying upon the rifle's far more powerful scope, just in case the older SPARTAN might require sudden support. And so, Vic observed Robin's silent signals. She understood Robin's silence, given her sheer proximity to what was assumed to be the Covenant communications hub for this base. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the second set of signals however.
Switching to the tight-beam laser communication to the other four members of DRAGON, Vic relayed Robin's message to the rest of their Fireteam.
"DRAGON 6," she begins, choosing her words quite carefully, even by her standards.
"DRAGON 5 observing silence. Going loud in five minutes, counting. Be ready." And with that message relayed, Victoria rose from her prone posture, and ejected the SRS' magazine, before slotting in a fresh one. And then the rifle was slung over her shoulder and magnetically sealed to her back, even as she drew her Magnum, before she started on a brisk run.
"DRAGON 6: Displacing."
She transmitted even as she moved, following Robin's path into the base...
Viktoria led Arthur and herself into an area where the Jackals seem to be less attentive, maybe they were on duty for longer, maybe they didn't sleep last night. Regardless of the reason she decided that this is where they are going to get into the base. As the Jackal looked away Viktoria picked a spot where she can get over it without being seen and with a running start leaped over. Landing softly with catlike grace she quickly lies down in a ditch as she flashed her acknowledgement light to what Dragon 6 transmitted to her.
Taking up a position in a ditch she noted Arthur clearing the wall and joining her.
She takes off at a jog towards the main building glancing at it. Taking note of the positions around it she can see that for the most part, real defences are... scarce. While there are a few guards around and a few sentries standing post. The majority of the garrison seems to be concentrated on the perimeter and on top of the perimeter wall.
However, she can most likely assume there are more of them located inside the main building- huh, she just realized she might run into some Covenant Civilians. Most likely administrative staff, well- this is a secret mission after all and they clearly don't mind exterminating humans... so- tough shit.
With the SPARTAN hand signal for follow me Viktoria runs towards a balcony and clambers up, pressing herself on the right side of the door and drawing her sidearm after attaching her DMR to her back. She gestured at Arthur's shotgun and got ready for Robin to signal for that she's ready to go loud.
Bill’s little joyride in the hijacked Ghost allowed him to clear ground quickly enough, zooming past more distant towers and patrols without really raising an alarm. It was only as he got closer to the perimeter wall, having swung around a bit to an area that looked less patrolled than others, that he slowed and stopped. Ditching the hovercraft, Bill moved on foot up to the wall with a running start before leaping; much like Robin, he managed to latch onto the top of the wall and brace himself before climbing up. He spared himself only a scant few moments to look at the base below, quickly noting the building where the Engineers were concentrated.
Leaping down into a darkened spot, Bill continued to observe. He had never seen an Engineer in person, but knew that they seemed to be solidly neutral in the alignment; they made no threats of any kind, and moved from piece to piece of technology, human or Covenant, with their only intent being to either repair, improve, or just learn about what they were looking at. As a result, the UNSC as a general rule did not attack them. He had heard stories of some Marines even playing with the creatures when they were away from other Covenant forces. Very curious. But the most important thing he knew about the Engineers was that they were often deployed when artifacts the Covenant seemed important were located, to excavate them.
And so, Bill knew where he was supposed to go. Unlike the others, who were waiting for Robin’s signal to go loud, Bill’s objective was vital enough that he couldn't afford to do the same. And so he crept along toward the Engineers as quickly yet carefully as he could, from shadow to shadow. The fact that there didn't seem to be any guards stationed there was surprising. Where were they?
He didn't dwell on this too long, though, as he stepped into the building, XBR at the ready.
The Unggoy at the communications console had been having quiet the boring, but satisfyingly consistent day.
The sort where you wake up early in the morning, but not too early. Breakfast is okay and filling without being bloated. And showing up to the duty station on time got a nod of appreciation from the officer of the watch, maybe with the promise of a nice and easy shift that sees you clocking off early to return to your quarters and other duties. It also said something about how much traffic passed from ground to orbit at present that the primary console could be entrusted to a single Unggoy with just enough authority to boss around the two in the next room.
Robin didn't know anything about what was going on in the Unggoy's mind as she stalked up behind him.
She had know way to know that he was enjoying minimal traffic on the radios, and thoughts of napping later that day on schedule or perhaps even earlier than normal.
If she had, it - it actually wouldn't have changed much.
It probably wouldn't have even made her feel bad thanks to years of conditioning and brain-washing.
He gave a surprised warble but was silenced when the other hand came and cut off his throat in a slowly crushing grip. His limbs started to flail out in panic when he caught what was unmistakably a Demon's armor in the corner of his vision. But he wouldn't be long for the world when his vision began to fade. The last thing he would ever see would be his own panicked reflection staring back at him from the amber face of the Demon that took his life. The only respect Robin gave him was out of the necessity of noise suppression when she gently set him face-down on the floor.
She turned her attention to the console and quickly tapped at it and her wristpad in turn. It was highly technical and couldn't be left to just any Tom, Dick or Harry but it'd be a lie to say that most of it wasn't Saint George's work. An IFF all-clear signal that had to be refreshed by the input of an attentive communications tech was taken over by George's vastly overqualified intelligent processes and all other personnel were shut out from ground-side consoles. That included any stations meant to monitor for Human channels and communications signatures.
"All's quiet, mum."
She keyed her radio once more, "This is 5, I'm - "
The others wouldn't hear the angered cry of the Sangheili warrior behind her. They would just see the quick double-flash of green light to signify that she had taken contact.
The first shot of his plasma rifle caught her in the back of the shoulder and charred armor. Its impact, as much as her own intent to dodge that shot and its wide-sailing twin, saw her twirling and going to the ground. But she'd ripped her shotgun from its place on her back first and quickly opened fire.
The first shot staggered him and blasted away his shields. The second blasted away two of those mandibles and a good portion of the rest of his face. Robin was on her feet.
"5, going loud!"
She wheeled on a pair of Unggoy who had come running into the room in a panic. A shot each sent them tumbling over the floor and leaving thick splattering blood on the floor and walls.
Whispers of footfalls echoed faintly as Delaney sprinted through similar looking alien structures, ducking under pipes and power cables running around the earth like metallic snakes. Even in great numbers the cables all head to one particular building that Delaney assumed to house the bases' reactor. Even from a distance, slinking through shadows Delaney could tell the Covenant had fortified the area with a larger than average checkpoints. For anyone else in Dragon, infiltration might be a possibility that could work in their favour.
Delaney had little thoughts of self grandeur, leaving his options of approach severely limited. Yet he avoided the building, heading for the sounds of engines spinning down. Covenant landing pads were no less different from human landing pads: there were four wide, flat landing pads neatly separated from each other with power cables trailing in between, overlooked by what anyone could tell to be the Covenant's air traffic control tower.
Between stacks of power cells, fusion cores and Covenant supply crates the spartan had a much easier time navigating unseen by lingering Covenant forces supervising the supply operation. Grunts hefted large boxes together, supervised by bored Jackals and a single Elite patrolling in a more or less linear pattern- his loose, hanging jaws indicated that this particular alien warrior did not care much for his duty. Sneaking past him was easier than the grunts. Delaney singled out a lone Spirit-class dropship in particular, shrouded by a nearby structure's shadow and sticking out further from the traffic tower.
"George?" he murmured, crouched behind the dropship's hull. He cracked open the package finally, revealing a well padded interior and several items. "Si-Ah. . . .that would explain the inventory discrepancies aboard the Prowler."
Taking up much of the space was a heavily stripped down SHIVA warhead, its structural skeleton exposed and all non-essential systems removed to make up for the rest of the cargo. A much more smaller HAVOK nuclear bomb shared a corner, the only thing marking it as a HAVOK-class being its football-esque silhouette. Delaney pulled out the smaller of the two bombs and magnetically stuck it to his back. "I need you to pilot this ship."
"Going for a ride, are we Mr. Delaney?" The spartan grunted noncommittally as he pulled out the SHIVA warhead. "Making a special delivery- I need this thing to fly up to the mother bird."
"Very creative, except we have a slight issue."
Delaney perked his head up from the troop compartment, as he secured the bomb in the left 'prong'. "What's up doc'?"
"Barring the fact that me 'piloting' this dropship is more or less me simply setting the dropship to follow its previous supply route- wouldn't this be the very definition of breaking operational cover?"
The man grunted as he whipped out additional military grade duct tape from his soft pack. "Wait until we get the all-clear from 5. Then take off, best speed possible."
He closed made his way into the cockpit, struggling to identify a data jack for his wristpad. "Also, you talk too much."
George made a scandalized sound and flashed green twice once the data transfer was complete. Delaney snuck out from the ship and back to the crate, reaching in for the last item: an MA5K carbine, additional magazines strapped to its body. He threw the weapon sling over his body and pocketed the extra magazines, shuffling around the supply pad between covers, keeping a beady eye out for the workers.
The lone elite yawned.
5's light flashed green twice, quickly followed by two distinct blasts. "George, now!"
Swinging out from behind a man-sized crate, Delaney seized the window of opportunity and let thirty rounds of pure human lead rip the Elite minor's shields apart. A quick swap to his pistol sent the three more shots into its sternum and one more through its cranium, splattering the ground with sickly purple blood. In the 30 seconds it took for the Spartan to neutralize the Elite, the grunts and jackals stared in shock. As though caught in a momentary wave of time distortion, Delaney dropped to one knee and squeezed the trigger three times, dropping a grunt with two neat holes in its chest: most of its face blown clear off.
Chaos ensued, alien orders were barked as Jackal shields flashed open, but Delaney had already rolled behind cover and reloaded his carbine in a flash. Their chain of command now dead, most of the grunts scattered, save for a few that carried more distinct colours to mark their seniority: Delaney popped from behind cover and showed them why humanity stopped from such antiquated and lethal forms of identification.
Two more bursts dropped a gaggle of grunts, eliminating whatever form of coherence the aliens had, save for the vulture-like creatures. From behind the safety of their shields they let loose with their plasma pistols, searing air where he once stood. He peaked his cover's corner and spotted the dead Elite's corpse, picking out the plasma grenade hanging from its belt. When the fire subsided he sprinted across the landing pad, firing a burst to suppress the aliens. He slid to a halt, picked up the grenade and recovered into a combat roll- chucking the now-primed explosive at the foot of the Jackal shield wall. Two brief flashes permeated the surprised squawks before the device detonated.
Its pitiful detonation range melted two Jackals but spared the remaining three, their shields flaring red in response to the explosion. They recovered quickly, sending more neon-green bolts of death his way. Swearing, he ducked back behind cover, the splashes of molten slag catching up to his feet. It took him three more seconds to visually confirm that the lone Spirit had gone virtually unresisted by nearby ground forces, occupied as they were with the more appealing distraction. How George would handle the rest was up to the annoying butler.
Delaney dropped the empty magazine and swapped for his last carbine reload. Enemy fire concentrated on his poor cover, melting away under deadly plasma. But for the Covenant, suppression came at a ridiculously high cost: heat. When he heard the first squawk of distress he jumped out from the side of his cover and fired the first burst- it missed the jackal's exposed arm, but caused it to hunker behind its shield angrily.
He fired his second burst as he shoulder made contact with the ground, blowing out the second alien's skinny legs from under it.
The third burst came as he rolled back to his feet, disarming - quite literally- the last Jackal. Before he could secure his footing Delaney charged the last combat effective alien and smashed its shield with a straight kick. The shield fizzled out and expired, just as the Spartan quickly bashed the stock of his weapon into the Jackal's skull. One time wasn't enough, it still had enough life to sputter blood and squawk weakly. The second upward strike broke its neck, but he made sure it died with a last stock bash.
There was no time to breath and take in. Even before the corpse touched the pad Delaney dashed out from the landing pad, pausing only to throw his empty weapon aside and replace it with the plasma rifle of the deceased Elite. "That's twice you've been more useful dead than alive, gutter-brain." he commented sarcastically, sprinting past the opening doors of the control tower.
He ignored the angry yells and challenges from the Elites- there was no time now. "This is 4, need back up-" he radioed out to his team as he turned around the corner to the powerhouse- into a hail of plasma fire that sent him scurrying back behind the structure's walls. "Fuck! This is 4, requesting assistance. I'm pinned by the bases' reactor. Got no ammo, enemy reinforcements imminent-"
Almost as cue the trio of Elites that had chased him roared in anger as they turned the corner. "-belay that, enemy reinforcements just got here!" He quickly primed the plasma rifle and sprayed down the alley, sending an Elite major and his accompanying minor behind opposing outcrops- the elite in the center took the full barrage with much bravado but quickly fell when his shields buckle, flashed and zapped into nothingness. It tried to roar something out- perhaps for Delaney to stop?
Delaney didn't stop, holding down the alien trigger until the weapon cooling system popped open, venting out excess heat that stung his skin even from under the MJOLNIR's plating. It was here that the remaining two elites popped out from cover and begun their approach; needlers and plasma firing in unison.
He didn't think twice: he charged the duo, throwing the useless rifle at the Major. It swatted the weapon aside but was distracted enough that Delaney could follow up with a side-kick that connected with its lower jaw, sending the alien staggering back. The minor roared and engaged the Spartan in a melee, swinging its rifle like a club downwards. Delaney blocked with his elbow, protecting his face and quickly positioned himself under the Elite's arm- shoving the barrel of his pistol at its armpits and emptying the whole magazine. At point blank, the minor's shields broke after the fourth shot but before Delaney could administer the fifth, the force of a train crashed into his lower abdomen and sent him flying back. He rolled over to his feet and tried to finish off the minor, but the red armoured Elite, in an uncharacteristic move shoved his subordinate aside and tanked the pitiful weapon's shots. "You absolute fuck."
It didn't respond to him, but turned its head to bark a guttural order at the wounded Elite. The minor seemed to defy it, but the Major snarled back, cowing the junior with its fearsome presence. The minor fled, clutching its sides- "It seems to be ordering the Minor to request reinforcements."
The AI chuckled, and the Spartan clenched his jaw. "The translation protocol isn't as insightful as you can imagine: this was just a possible inference. It seems to regard your presence as a critical threat."
Delaney laughed, dropping his pistol as the Major dropped its weapon. It punched the air, and an energy dagger flared into existence. It was a challenge that the Spartan couldn't escape so easily, not when the other option was to run out into the sights of an entire enemy checkpoint. "D'you think it knows about the rest of DRAGON?"
"Mr. Delaney, do you think I'm a miracle worker?"
The human warrior pulled out his combat knife and assumed a combat stance, slowly clenching his fists. He didn't answer the AI, exhaling.
Arthur followed Vik towards the wall, keeping low and watching the nearest towers for signs that they'd been spotted. Thankfully it seemed that she had chosen their entry point well, as the bird-headed sentries paid no mind to them. Keeping watch as Vik made her way over, Arthur locked his weapon to his leg and took a running leap, bracing a foot against the wall and hooking a hand onto the upper edge to launch himself up and over the obstacle. Landing as quietly as a half-ton super soldier could, Arthur drew his M7 again, taking a split second to flash his acknowledgement to Vic's transmission.
A quick scan of their surroundings revealed that aside from around the important structures, interior security seemed to be pretty light, which was fine by Arthur's standards. Flashing his acknowledgement to Vik's hand signal, Arthur followed her, keeping an eye out for patrols as they jumped up onto a balcony on the main building's second story. As his comrade took up position on the right side, Arthur stacked up on the left. Seeing Vik gesture to his shotgun, Arthur nodded and began to reach for it, only to pause as he saw her switching to her sidearm. Shaking his head subtly, he spun the suppressor off the M7 in his hand and passed it to her along with a pouch of spare mags.
Tucking the suppressor into a pouch, Arthur pulled his shotgun off his back, thumbing off the safety catch. Getting an idea, he dropped his offhand to his belt and pulled a flashbang off of it. As soon as he heard the twin shot gun blasts in the distance, Arthur pulled the pin and waved his arm in front of the door. As soon as it opened, he chucked the small device into the opening then leaned back. Once the muffled pop of the grenade was heard, Arthur was through the door, weapon up and sweeping the room. The first thing he saw, or rather heard, was the flailing trio Grunts on the ground, hands over their faces as they wailed in pain from the overload to their senses. The second was the large tank in the corner fitted with several large ports shaped liked the tanks on the Grunts' back. It seems they'd found one of the Unngoy's resupply stations.
"Check your fire, 2. No sense roasting us alive."
Stepping over to the Grunts, Arthur pulled the other suppressed M7 off his hip and put a burst into each of their heads, silencing their screaming for good. Reloading the weapon, he stowed it and stepped over to the door exiting the room, stacking up on the right side. Just then Delaney's near frantic request for back-up came over the comms, causing him to frown under his visor. If Delaney went down, then they lost their way to cover their tracks and the Covvies would have a very dangerous new toy. Arthur glanced towards the balcony door, then looked backed to Viktoria with a questioing tilt of his head, clearly wanting to go help his teammate, "Orders?"
Viktoria heard Delaney's call for help with some sense of concern and decided that she had to be quick in her response. Taking note of the recharge station and the dead grunts as she calmly walked into the building she prepared to rattle off her instructions.
“Six- shift to help Four, Three you’re still with me, Five carry on.” Viktoria’s voice flickers over comms, calm and composed with a confident undertone. Letting Four know she has absolute faith in his abilities and also in the steady hand of Six to ruin the enemy in the open.
Taking the M7 she nods to Arthur and attaches the magazines to her belt. Switching comms to only her and Arthur she goes, "We have to make our way towards the vehicle pad. I noticed a bird parked there and ready to get away at a moment's notice. Now that they heard all the gunfire, we better get a move on."
With that she carefully, yet briskly starts to move into the facility, keeping her eyes peeled, head on a swivel, and her ears back. Noticing footsteps with a distinctive clank of armored feet coming towards them she quickly ducks into cover. "Three, get ready to receive Elites." With both of them in cover she hears an eerie snap-hiss of Energy Swords igniting and the three Elites charging towards the Spartans. Lots of courage, but no sense she observes to herself wryly.
Viktoria noticed Arthur switch to his shotgun so she quickly fired a controlled burst of fire from her M7 at the lead Elites, with a satisfying crackle the Elite's shield gets depleted and with an even more satisfied expression she sees Arthur calmly level his shotgun and blow the bastard away, directly into his friends- stupid for charging haphazardly into a small corridor. They repeat the process twice more, both Spartans promptly reload and take off towards the hangar with a renewed purpose.
Even as things went to shit for the rest of DRAGON, their leader maintained radio silence-- even though technically, he no longer had to now that the Covenant’s comms were down. This was at least partly because, by the time things had gone to shit, he was too deep into this facility to actually hear what was going on outside, as as soon as he had entered, he was moving steadily downward.
He couldn't fully resist the pull of curiosity, though; he knew this building wasn't Covenant in design from missions he had undertaken after being plucked from Alpha Company. His desire to actually study what was in front of him simply because it was so new to him was at odds with his soldier’s mentality to keep pushing forward as quickly as possible. He needed to get that artifact, and fast.
Stepping up to an angular door that soon flashed blue in the flashing red lines upon it (whomever had made this building sure seemed to love their angular designs, considering all the circuit-like inscriptions on the walls and floor) and opened up for him, Bill stepped into… a small room with a single door on the other end, and several Engineers floating around, inspecting small pillars with what looked like holographic symbols on them.
Control panels? Bill thought, before stepping further into the room. The Engineers all turned in unison to look at him briefly, but quickly returned to what they were doing.
In his peripheral vision, he detected movement, and Bill craned his neck to see it: A lone Engineer flexing its limbs toward him in a single pose, again and again. The young Spartan paused, observing the creature.
If any Covenant species could truly fit the concept of “alien”, as in “unknown and strange”, it was the Engineers. They floated a meter above the ground through gas-filled sacs, had four tentacle-like appendages for arms, and elongated necks with six eyes placed horizontally along their small heads. And yet despite such an unwieldy appearance, the Engineers seemed incredibly graceful. It made Bill forget, momentarily, the hatred for the Covenant’s races he had and which had been intensified through his indoctrination and training.
And after a few moments of watching this Engineer, Bill had a realization: The creature was trying to talk to him. And judging by the repeated gesture, combined with its relaxed body language, he guessed what it was attempting to say:
Bill knew that the Engineers were non-combatants, but he had never heard of one actively attempting to initiate conversation with humans before-- or any other Covenant races, for that matter. Now his curiosity got the better of him, and he slung his XBR over his shoulder to show non-hostility, giving the Engineer a cautious wave in greeting.
The Engineer made an odd bleating sound from one of the sphincter-like valves on one of its sacs, and the emission caused it to float lazily over to him. Its elongated neck swiveled, and he could see curiosity in its eyes as it looked him over. This docile behavior made him think of cows. He remembered liking the cows on his homeworld of Harvest, before it had been glassed.
“Hello.” Bill said in a whisper. He didn't want to risk detection anymore than he had to, but already ideas were forming in his head. The Engineer gave a chirp in response.
“Can you understand me?” Bill asked. The Engineer gave another chirp, then backed away slightly to outstretch its limbs again, moving them in another set of poses that the young Spartan couldn't understand immediately. Bill wished he had the time to learn more, but he was painfully aware of the seconds ticking by.
“I’m trying to find something important. Will you help me?”
The Engineer paused, then looked around. Floating back to another panel, one of its tentacles split at the tip into hundreds of cilia, inserting themselves into mechanisms Bill couldn't see immediately. The seconds ticked by, and Bill started to make for the other door on the far end of the room; but before he could take more than a single step, the Engineer removed its cilia from the panel and floated back over to him.
“Floats Easily.” came a mechanical, synthesized voice emanating from the Engineer. Bill was startled at this, but made no moves to show it.
“Floats Easily. My name.”
“Huh… Okay… Floats. I'm Bill. Look, I’m kind of in a hurry. You think you could help me find what I'm looking for, Floats?”
“You seek the Artifact?” the Engineer queried, and it cocked its head.
“I do. It's very important that I find it before the Covenant takes it. Will you help?”
Bill expected the squidlike alien to ask why, or ask for something in return. Instead he received a simple: “Yes.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Yes. I help. Helping is what I do.”
“Well alright, then… Lead the way, Floats.”
The Engineer gave a chirp-- apparently whatever it had done to facilitate communication with Bill was voluntary, like pressing the mic button on a comm-- and proceeded to float leisurely toward the door on the far end of the room, and then beyond it. Shouldering his rifle, Bill followed.
His new, alien friend was likely to prove an invaluable resource. And also pleasant enough company, he hoped.
A SPARTAN-III actually enjoying the company of a Covenant alien. His mission just kept getting more strange by the moment.
Fistfights were rarely the fast paced, hyped up action that most holo-vids loved to portray. It was a messy affair and involved any amount of dirty street fighting trick you could employ; Delaney may not have been raised in the city streets as some of his batch did, but his prodigious size and muscle mass often gave him the edge in hand to hand combat. Against an Elite, whatever advantage he had was fleeting.
The Spartan ducked under the Major's quick diagonal sweep, his free hand lancing out in an open palm strike against the Sangheilli's chest. It was enough to disturb the alien warrior's footing, and Delaney went for its jugular with his knife. The Elite roared dove its head into a headbutt, narrowly missing the aimed strike. A crack formed in the center of Delaney's visor, and the HUD began to flicker intermittently. A cry of pain slipped out from his mouth, a grunt that tasted of blood.
He staggered back, but quickly recovered and went for another quick jab at the alien- the sudden backhand blow to Delaney's helmet sent the Spartan against the building's wall. His vision blacked out for a split second, and the only thing he could concentrate on doing was not slumping into a messy heap. Instead he took several hasty steps backwards, just in time to avoid the Major's stab. The wall hissed as plasma pierced its purple hide.
When Delaney leapt forward to take advantage of the situation, the Major pulled back, avoiding his knife's slash, but Delaney was far from over. He kept the pressure, switching grips and moving forward, aiming for the unarmoured bits of the alien with every swing, thrust or backhanded slash. "Where-" he ducked beneath a short jab and countered with another lunge for the Sangheilli's neck.
"-the fu-oof!-" He felt his breath knocked out from his gut as the alien football tackled him to the ground. Down on his back, he kicked the Elite's punch-dagger arm aside, and in a fit of rage wrapped his hand around its neck and immediately went for a headbutt, smashing alien jaw against the top of his more armoured helmet top. Its roar was slurry, its eyes slightly dazed- split wide open as his knife shot up and slid comfortably into its neck. Delaney's visor turned purplish-blue when he ripped the knife side ways, spilling Sangheilli blood by the litre all over him.
"Dis-fucking-gusting." He pushed the Elite's corpse off of him, struggling to sit up right but with the hell of a pounding headache it was hard to concentrate on moving his body at all. "Four here, where's my sous chef?" He managed to pick himself up, kicking the corpse for good luck. "Sir, do you know what's the rate for dry cleaning service these days? It's going to take a whole day getting the blood off of your armor."
"Thought the science department might need extra alien blood for their fucked up experiments." He walked to the end of the corridor and peaked out- only to be met with a hail of suppressive fire that splashed the walls into his face. His HUD flickered even quicker, and the Spartan was forced to disable the overlay. "Piece of shit tech."
"It wasn't meant to be used as a blunt instrument."
"They made a helmet that can survive a point-blank detonation and prevent instantaneous decapitation, and you're telling me it can't survive two headbutts in a row?" Delaney retreated back into the alley way, picking up the discarded plasma rifle. It managed to cool off during the hand to hand action, but he noticed that it was dented- the force of the Elite had damaged the weapon in some way or another, and judging merely from appearances and the way it crackled and fizzled in the exposed parts? He dropped the weapon aside, and instead scavenged whatever the rest of the corpses had to offer.
By the time he was finished, Delaney appeared to be a little bit more than a post-apocalyptic death machine, the only term he felt fitting to his new look. A functional plasma rifle in his hands, a plasma pistol to replace his sidearm that ran out of ammunition and simply put, armor that stank of alien guts, and a helmet with a cracked visor. "George."
No Spartan ever achieved their objective hiding behind cover timidly, not unless they carried a really big fucking gun. Delaney had to make do with what he had. He primed his rifle and kept the pistol warmed, peaking out the edge of the wall. The Covenant checkpoint was still fully manned- aliened?
The Spartan didn't need an overlay to realize there was at least 30 of them staring his way, being smart little smug bastards and aiming every weapon they had at his position. Half of those were the fat-stacked conical Grunts, shivering in anticipation- or anxiety. They abused whatever cover their station provided, even if their conical backpacks simply made that irrelevant.
Squid-heads barked and garbled at each other in their foreign tongue, jabbing their rifles in his general direction. "Do you wish for a translation, sir?"
"No need: they want my scalp, don't they?" Delaney didn't need to be a linguist to taste blood lust. "I'm offended to have my only significant role to you taken away from me sir."
He paid the intelligence little mind as he recce'd the remainder of the hold out. Jackals armed with carbines atop the two floating platforms flanking each other. Three to a platfor-
None. He watched as a silent streak of smoke ripped the heads of three Jackals at once, their bodies collapsing off the platform and onto the ground. It was a few seconds before the Grunts that surrounded its base noticed their headless avian masters.
Vic's signal flashed once, an action that spoke many words that Del had little patience to decode.
"I'll thank you later." he grumbled. In the short span of time it took for panic to spread, Delaney burst out from his cover. Time slowed for the Spartan, distorting his vision. George said something to him, but he couldn't hear: all he could think was Kill! Kill! Kill!.
He crossed the distance in three, five, Six! strides and plowed through the Grunts with his mass. They fell like bowling pins, screaming in their foreign tongue, but they were just few in so many: the other Grunts gave him one look of terror and determination for Delaney to translate.
He didn't wait, and pulled the trigger on both his weapons.
Ballistics at its simplest explanation, was the propulsion of a small, preferably aerodynamic projectile that would puncture through the body of an enemy. The more specialized the bullet, the better the ability to punch through more than just skin.
Plasma was different. Covenant weaponry spat out globules of semi-solid energy that seared flesh and metal together, inflicting grievous injuries and pain at once. It wasn't directly lethal, but taking the brunt of a plasma barrage was enough to fry one's sensory organs to crisp. By then, you might as well want to die.
The nearest aliens fell screaming first, Delaney didn't trust them not to turn their weapons on him first. Then he focused down the more dangerous Grunts, gunning them down with their own weapons- such inconceivable justice in the eyes of the universe.
The sniper's toll took out the rest of the Jackals as they tried to split their attention between the first Demon in their midst, and the other that took out the other platform. A strategy that costed them their grey matter.
Finally the cadre of Elites that had bickered among themselves just a short moment ago. Now their argument was resolved with a clear foe before them- they just didn't count the unseen foe. A minor that charged at Delaney as he was busy massacring the lesser aliens took a round from Victoria's long reach. Its shields were unlike its seniors: weaker, and failed it miserably against human firepower.
But the rest the Elites were not deterred by death as easily as the lesser aliens. In the wake of Delaney's sudden appearance and horrible butchering, the Grunts threw down their arms and fled- panic that was exacerbated as Victoria slew another Minor.
Two down still meant 6 more of the squids that Delaney had to kill. He dropped his spent weapons and ducked into cover as they splattered his position with plasma fire, melting earth and alloy together. The Spartan had to kick several corpses aside to make room for himself, but not without relieving the bodies of their weapons.
The Elites maintained their fire, coordinating with one another such that another could take the place of a venting rifle. "Piss of-" A well aimed burst sent Delaney cowering behind cover again.
No, no no no- He couldn't let himself get pinned again. Thinking fast, he yanked the closest corpse to him and stood up. The Grunt's corpse jerked mechanically as plasma slowly ate through the cadaver, but it was enough for the Spartan to charge towards the gunners.
Entering close combat seemed to enrage and enthrall the Elites at once, who threw down their weapons and flashed their daggers out. Delaney threw away the burnt out husk at an Elite to distract it, who bisected the corpse in half with a vicious swing. It roared, spittle flying out to face the Demon-
-who had no intention of fighting anywhere near the concept of honorably. In one swift move he produced two primed plasma grenades, pilfered from the Grunts. It flashed bright blue as Delaney slapped it onto the Elite, passing it by and gunning straight for the reactor room behind them. Their anger was drowned in a fireworks show that dribbled purple and blue everywhere.
Dragon 6, now reloaded, sent another Elite to the grave in two quick shots. By now the honor-bound warriors were starting to get wary of their chances. But honor still dictated that they pursue the Demon to its demise, a task made more gargantuan now that it had slipped past them and into the reactor.
They tried their best to charge but the human sniper shattered the knee of the leading Elite, sending it tumbling face first.
All Delaney had left was three more Elites that ignored the angry death throes of their fallen comrade. Soon, it too died silently.
Covenant engineering was a mess. A miraculous mess that worked like magic, but to an every-day human engineer, trying to come to terms with Covenant technology was a head-splitting nightmare.
For Delaney, it was a problem easily reversed engineered through a little HAVOK. He giggled slightly at the joke in his mind, violence and blood lust ebbing away ever so slightly in the face of light-hearted comedy. But the sounds of footsteps broke him out of his reverie. "George, wrap the package-"
"-just needs your access co-"
He thumbed down the digits in quick succession, looking over his shoulder. From the mess of pipes, he could count three shadows.
Couldn't have dealt me a better hand, could you?
"-rimed sir." The Spartan quickly tore off the adhesive tape and tactless as he was, simply stuck the present to the floor at the foot of the energy reactor. It pulsed and hummed of hideous cerulean energy, but the Covenant-purple walls meant the light it cast was a purplish hue itself. Its nature betrayed by its surroundings.
He spun around, breathless, just in time for an Ultra to throw a deadly thrust with its energy dagger. Delaney could hardly dodge and opted to catch the fist and sock the Elite in its stupid mouth. Its energy shield flared for a moment, and it hissed loudly at the Spartan. Del, not one to let an opportunity slip by, shot a hand out to grab the Ultra's lower jaw and with a quick twist, snap it. Cartilage or bone, either way the Elite backed away in pain.
Capitalizing on the dazed state of the enemy, the Spartan delivered a swift gut-kick. The Ultra flew back and skidded past the feet of two more Elites, growling at Delaney. "Nice to meet you."
Crack a joke, see where it takes you.
To his surprise, one of the Elite spoke up, and if he wasn't slightly delirious from the adrenaline rush, he could've sworn it was a genuine and sincere reply. The third Elite staggered to its feet, its maimed digit dangling uselessly. It spat blood out, and faced the Spartan with three of its brothers.
None of them dared fire with their weapons, not when a stray shot could mean total nuclear destruction. To be fair, that was also Delaney's objective. He just didn't want to imagine himself caught up in the same blast. "Name's Delaney. Call me Del."
The Elites didn't reply back.
"Tough crowd huh."
They took a step closer, spreading out to envelop the Spartan. He delved into his softpack, desperate for anything. His fingers wrapped themselves around something cylindrical, and that's when he remembered what it was.
Oh they're never going to believe me.
The center Elite moved fast, just as the wings of its formation spread out to encircle Delaney. He didn't wait, and charged forward, grasping his last hope.
Dodge under a wild swing, counter with a gut punch, energy shields flare- wasn't hard enough. Doesn't matter, stunned the bastard. Kick the left, nail him square at the fucked jaw. Send him back. Back to the front- send another punch at the jaw, shift the Elite to intercept the other one and block a strike.
Smart. Stopped before he could've made my job easier. Reveal screwdriver and RAM THE DAMN THING DOWN ITS THROA-.
Spartan IIIs. Disposable and efficient, made with strategic value in mind. Spearheaded by Lieutenant Kurt Ambrose, a former SII himself, the first batch of graduates were of Alpha Company, where members of Fireteam DRAGON came from. They were bred and trained for maximum aggression, though Kurt would comment at their more 'II nature of individualism.
They could work as a team and think like a family, but almost everyone fought for themselves first, group second.
Not every Spartan III was equal either. You didn't go through all that augmentation and mental washing without something going wrong, and somewhere along the line for Delaney, it had.
When he woke up, all he saw was purple. He tenderly wiped the blood from his visor that he could see. He had seen dead bodies before, even make them.
But a dead body wasn't necessarily a mangled, barely-distinguishable mass of meat. He looked down at his left hand. Chunks of flesh, blood and alien gunk was still stuck around a fist, and a very ruined screwdriver. Its shaft broken, and worn to a nub.
"Come to your sense yet sir?"
". . .rage?"
"Of the berserk sort, yes. I'm checking your diagnostics- you didn't exactly escaped unharmed. Three broken fingers on the left hand, fractured ribs and a dislocated shoulder. You're a proper mess, sir. I recommend proper medical attention."
Delaney went quiet as he forced himself out of the reactor room. "It look like there's a doctor nearby, jackass?"
He dropped the screwdriver by the entrance and clenched his jaw tight as he popped his arm back in place.
"This is DRAGON 4; bird has been fed the worm. Meet you at the rendezvous. Out."
Arthur found himself gritting his teeth in frustration at being ordered to stay on point and not move to assist Delaney. But the part of his mind that had been hardwired to follow orders and stay on target pushed that irritation aside as he blinked his acknowledgement light once and fell in behind Viktoria. Moving along with her into the facility, Arthur kept his head on a swivel, and heard the clatter of the Elites' footfalls just as Vik called them out. A quiet curse slipped out from his mouth as he ducked into an alcove on the side of the corridor. The blood-chilling hiss of an energy blade igniting was the next sound that registered to the green-armored SPARTAN, but he held fast and took a deep breath to steady himself. As soon as the rattle of Viktoria's M7 rang out, Arthur rushed into action and made straight for the lead Elite. Leveling his shotgun, Arthur squeezed the trigger, watching with a smug smile as the buckshot punched a fist sized hole in the Elite's armor and the flesh beneath it and sending the alien warrior reeling back into his comrades. A second burst of fire from his teammate stripped the second Sanghelli of its shielding, and with it's friend's bleeding carcass keeping its sword arm pinned, the warrior could do nothing but snarl in defiance before Arthur blew a hole through its heart.
The final member of the trio escaped getting truly impeded by his leader's flailing body, and managed to take a swing at Arthur, who ducked the blow then stepped inside the Elite's reach. Ramming the muzzle of his M45 right between the monster's teeth, Arthur snorted as he recognized the glint of fear filling the creature's eyes. A feeling of satisfaction flitted through Arthur's mind for a moment as he reveled in this power, but it faded as soon as it came as the final shot rang out and the wall was covered in bran matter and dark purple blood.
"Targets neutralized, moving to primary objective."
Shaking the worst of the gunk off his weapon and gloves, Arthur took the lead, beelining straight for the sealed door at the end of the corridor. Another dose of buckshot ripped the control panel apart, unsealing the door just in time for Arthur to barrel through it. Several details became apparent as he did so. First, the Phantom sitting on the pad had its ramp lowered and engines ignited, ready for immediate lift off. Secondly, The Prophet and his two guards were already more than halfway to the bird. Third, and finally, it was open and even ground between him and the target. Cracking his neck, Arthur planted a boot on the deck and braced himself as a cold edge of rage settled into his voice. "That bastard isn't touching that ship alive. Two, cover me."
And with that, Arthur pushed off and broke into an all out sprint.
It was noted during ALPHA Company's post-augmentation training that the SIII's could hold a sustained running speed of roughly 29 km/h with relative ease. Turn that pace into an adrenaline fueled sprint mid-combat while tossing in the force multiplier that was the MJOLNIR armor system, and suddenly that speed increased to 55 km/h. All this combined to mean that the Prophet and his guards had well over half a ton of very angry super soldier closing in at over fifteen meters per second. To say there was panic was an understatement. The two Sanghelli guardsmen ignited their energy swords and charged right back at Arthur. Trusting Viktoria to handle one of them, Arthur switched his pump gun to his offhand, drew his knife, and lowered his shoulder. The Elite somehow managed to miss his first swing, swiping the crackling blade of plasma through the air a split second before Arthur's head arrived there. It was the last act he ever committed, as another split second later, Arthur buried his knife in the side of its head while slamming into him with enough force to shatter bone and buckle armor plate. The impact tossed the Elite aside like a broken ragdoll, leaving the way clear to the Prophet.
Arthur managed to halve the distance to his target and had just started to raise his weapon when suddenly there was a bright flash of light as the damn beam cannon built into the Prophet's throne discharged. Superhuman reflexes allowed Arthur to avoid the worst of the damage by throwing his feet forward and dropping into a slide, but the beam still managed to clip him, leaving a sizzling gouge in his chestplate and his undersuit melted and smoking. A snarl of pain escaped is lips as his momentum carried him the rest of the way to the Prophet. He could see the wrinkled alien sneer down at him as the its cannon recharged, and he also saw that sneer melt away as he raised his shotgun and blew the gravity throne out from under him. Shakily pushing himself to his feet, Arthur wracked the weapon's slide and moved towards the alien, shaking his head as it feebly tried to crawl away. "Not so tough without your fancy chair, are you, ya wrinkly fuck?"
Vik switched to her DMR and opened fire on the Elite that Arthur left to her, popping his shields with an ease that belies the skill and training of the SPARTANs in general. She then flicked to its head and fired a round, the bullet buried itself in the Elite's brain and she turned to see Arthur take down the Prophet and then just... squish him. Vik walked up to it, grabbed a hand-held camera and took a picture as well as made sure helmet cam picked it up to confirm that the target is dead, its head crushed like a grape. With a vicious satisfaction Vik gave her next set of orders "Arthur, let's move out. Need to destroy the Phantom to prevent pursuit."
Arthur covered her as she went to work with the foaming explosives that Arthur handed to her. "Reactor, reactor, ah, here we go." If there was ever a time for Del to be here, it'd be now. But, the man was prosecuting his own personal crusade so who is she to stop his fun. With practiced hands, she primed the explosive and walked out handing Arthur the detonator. "Here you go Three, you're the man of the hour."
She can almost see Arthur grin as they walked out the base and he detonated the explosives causing a large boom as the reactor detonated.
Now all there's left to do is arrive at the Rendezvous point and await extraction.