Snippet #2174059

Greyson heard the reports coming steadily in on the radio strapped the Corporal's back. His hands shaking as he remained still with his LMG ready, not firing when the mountable turrets brought a malestorm of fire, lead, and stray plasma explosions down on the incoming Ghosts. It really was spectacular to see, the flashes of blue highlighted by purple, red, white, and yellow. Making a fire show. Grunts squealing in chaos as the Ghosts were blasted apart. He had never seen anything of the like...

Then came more news. News of light infantry transports. Prowlers. He had read about them and learned how engage them thanks to new anti-armor courses. He prepared his gun, aiming down the sights. The cool metal trigger on his gloved finger, read to fire, as the moan of their engines cut through snowstorm. He knew there was also a medic next to him. That was another priority. He knew a medic would need cover if the foes got up close and brutal, he looked over and whispered. "If they get into the trenches stay near me." And then turned back, calming and steadying his breath as he waited for the order to open fire upon enemy craft. He knew his gun would pack a punch, firing 50 Cal. even a Prowler's armor would be torn into by the heavy, FMJ/AP rounds he had provided with for the weapon.

He just kept on waiting as the second's ticked by, a million to one instances clicking through his brain. He had seen images, accounts, and received warnings if what most Covenant units were capable of doing to a Human, and he did not want to meet the wrong side of one's fist... Or the side of a Brute Shot or Spiker, and the most dreadful though was a Plasma Repeater or a damned Mauler. Grizzly weapons, all meant for one purpose to rend flesh in a brutal, imposing way.