Halo universe. Future sci-fi.

Tap, tap, tap, tap... Tap, tap.

"Well, Private Mills, it says here that your ankle is just fine. You wouldn't just be trying to get out of patrol, now were you?" The woman asked with a wry grin. He wasn't the first to pull a stunt like that, nor would he probably be the last. Though she had to admit, the fact that he went out of his way to make his ankle swell like that showed conviction. She sighed and started tapping on her medical scanner once more. "Right. Because of the swelling, and just to be sure that you don't hold the patrol back, I'll have to recommend that you stay in the barracks... For this one time. At least until the swelling reduces. My suggestion? Shove your foot in the snow outside. Though, if my recommendation sticks, that's up to your commander to decide." She relented. It wouldn't do to send the man out as he was.

"Heh. Thanks Val... I'll be sure to be more careful when I walk," The private said over his blush. Valerie tucked her medical scanner under her arm and shook her head, "As long as you don't fall on your way out of the barracks, I'll be happy," she said giving him a playful tap on the side of the head, "Now get out of here. Surely there's something you have to be doing." With that, the soldier stood up and left the barracks with the most pitiful excuse for a limp Valerie had even seen. She watched him leave with her hands on her hips and shaking her head with a grin on her lips. Bless his heart, if this place wasn't frozen hell hole, she'd have cleared him for patrol.

Valerie Mallard, also known as the Valkyrie, a warrior angel, was a UNSC Marine Medic-- and local babysitter apparently. She turned off the medical scanner and slipped it into her medic's back, and slipped that on her shoulder. Then she leaned down to pick up her helmet, emblazoned with a large red cross over a white background. The ensignia of a Hospital Corpsman. Though, there were no hospitals there, he had to make due with what she had. The barracks. It beat trying to diagnose patients in the freezing cold outside.

Hah. Wounds. Like you could call them that. In truth she had to deal with more runny noses and cases of frostbite then bullet wounds (except for one case where a kid shot himself in the foot). Though, she didn't mind. It was better than having to actively save a life in the middle of a war-zone. She'd take the sniffles over an arm blown off any day. With that, she turned towards the exit of the barracks and headed out. Not before a certain stream of smoke caught her attention. She glanced over at the Marine in the bed. One certain Jack Carter.

"You know that's going to kill you, right? If the cold doesn't do it first of course," she said before laughing her way out of the Barracks.

And right into the cold. She sudden chill caused her to shiver as she put her helmet on, hoping the thing would aid in shielding her from the cold. Once outside, she had no idea what to do then. So she just stood. And waited. A bit of fresh-- if cold-- air never hurt anyone, right?

In the....

The....

.....

.....

.....

In some, unknown location inside the base was a Captain. With a near-perfect rythem, his arms pushed him up and then they slowly released him down only to push him back up and repeat the process, time and again. Some would call these 'push-ups', but he liked to think of them as his after-jog cooldown exercise. A frontline soldier always had to stay in shape, after all.

His breaths came easy, as if unfazed by the amount of reps he had done, which began numbering in the hundreds a minute or two ago. His form was perfect as were those breaths. Inhaling when he went down, exhaling when he pushed up. Simple, yet effective. That's how things should be. At least in his opinion. Eventually, reached his personal goal for this morning, one-hundred fifty, to be exact, and he got himself back to his feet. He gazed around the area he was in, only now realizing he was in the loading bay. No wonder he was hearing power tools as he worked out.

Dalton recalled when he was jogging prior, and the route he took to get here. He should probably plan out a route for his jogs and not just randomly go until he felt he did enough, but he didn't feel like it. His gaze swept over the stationed warthogs, one of which was currently being repaired because some dumbass didn't know how to effectively drive in snow. Lucky him he didn't even make it out of the base's field of view before he crashed, making recovering him a possibility. He'll probably have to thank the men in the sniper tower later on, once his leg feels better.

"Captain, sir!" a young soldier saluted him.

Dalton turned around, facing the young man. Private Matthews, he believed. "At ease. What is it you wanted?"

"Major Braxx requests your presence in his office, sir!"

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that all?" he repeated.

"Sir?" the boy raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"Is that all?" Dalton looked anything but pleased as he once again repeated himself.

"Sorry, sir." the troop's head was pointed downwards due to his shame.

"You may leave."

"Thank you, sir." he marine limped away.

Dalton sighed. What was he needed for now? To assist more troopers as they scouted? Like hell! Damn, there was nothing to do in this dump save for wait and rot away. Sure, the war may be over, but it's not like he couldn't help out with other duties... important duties. Duties that didn't waste his life away. He was still young, sorta, but this wasn't forever. Soon he'd be an old man, much like Braxx (who is admittedly a strong old man), but maybe worse. He can't just waste his potential here in this base.

But orders were orders.

After a pace through the base, Dalton arrived at Major Braxx's office and promptly knocked on the door. Even as a captain, he was required to salute and otherwise obey a higher authority. Though he was happy it wasn't as much as it used to be.

Jean sat in the cockpit of her hornet, she was sitting there watching as the other men and women ran about doing their business. "I hate being grounded. Fucking weather." She sighed as she jumped out of the cockpit and started to walk around, she pulled her zipped up her jacket and folded her arms, trying to keep the cold from nipping at her. With every foot step she could hear the horrible crunch of footsteps and in the distance, she could hear the gunshots coming from the Range and decided to head in that general direction, saluting most of the people that pasted her, not really caring whether she was meant to or not. She eventually made it to the firing range, she looked around for anyone she recognized and she noticed 'Kid' and called over. "Hey, it's 'Kid'!" She smiled and walked over, taking a position next to him. She drew her pistol and took aim, firing and managing to hit the arm, chest and leg. She kept this up, thinking there was nothing else for her to do seeing as she was meant to be elsewhere but the damned weather had left her grounded.

Alex sighed as he walked the halls. Cold, cold was one of the few things in this base that Alex liked, unlike most of his fellow soldiers. He was bored simple and plain, and that he did share with everyone else. Being stuck in a tower for 48 hours with two old farts who have rain out of thing to talk about will make the posses that much more agonizing . The only interesting thing was when his fellow snipers were out walking around the base one of the new recruits crashed a warthog into a tree not nine hundred feet away from the base. Alex walked for about half an hour wandering before he arrived at the barracks. "You know that's going to kill you, right? If the cold doesn't do it first of course," He heard Val say too Jack who just ignored her and walked out of the room. As Jack passed Alex caught his smell. Smoke, the smell came of him in waves Alex almost felt the need to cover his mouth it was so bad.

Alex walked over to val and leaned on the wall opposite from her "You know that guy will never learn Val."Alex said giving her a smile "He is a Hell Raiser and that means he has his head in whatever cloud he thought off......probably one made of smoke." It had been a while seance he had last spoken to Val seeing as he did not come out of his tower too often but when he did he would try to speak with her or anyone who would be willing as long as it was someone who was not one of his fellow snipers.

"I don't really expect him to Alex," she said with a warm smile, a stark contrast compared to the frozen environment around them. "I've seen his type before. Stubborn old dogs of war. You know what they say about old dogs, right?" She said, her tone implying that she found it a rather endearing quality. "Men like him are the hard quiet type. The UNSC are full of men like him, just ready to shoot at the first alien bastard who looks at them cross. To be fair, smoking is probably the least of his worries," she continued, her smile dropping into something of a tight lipped frown.

"Men like him don't normally die in a hospital bed nor even quietly in their sleep. It'd take a plasma bolt to the heart to stop him-- If only one. I wouldn't be surprised to see him shrug off a number of them, and take that many more of the bastards out," She said with a flicker of a smile. Talking about the man like that reminded her of her father. A stern faced man marching off to fight the bastards who threatened their way of life, who threatened his wife, his sons, and his daughter. Hell, she even saw a bit of her brothers in the man.

"But I digress, I doubt Corporal Carter would like the idea of me gossiping about him like that," she added, deftly changing the subject. "How about you Alex? Got a case of the sniffles that I can tell you to suck up?" she said with a laugh. Despite the utter amount of grim faced soldiers and hardened marines, Valerie still had a girlish air about her. Though she has been known to drag wounded soldiers from the frontline under heavy fire and then patch up their wounds mid-combat, she was still perhaps the softest soul in the entire base. An endearing quality, perhaps, but a good one to be found in a Hospital Corpsman.

A medic just as hardened as some of these soldiers and just as cold as the ground beneath her feet might not provide the care that she would. He'd end up saying that it was a lost cause and just let the soldier die. Not Valerie. She would try to the fullest extent of her expertise to save every soul she possible could. Sure, she failed many times before, but each failure only drove her to try and save the next one. Being the medic, she was perhaps more acquainted with death than most soldiers should be. An attitude like hers was rare, but it let her keep her air of optimism and care. Key things to look for in a medic.

A symphony of handgun shots drew her head in that direction. The only one she thought she knew over there was First Sergeant Kent. She chewed on her lip as if internally debating something, then shrugged, having found an answer. "Doing anything? Care for a walk? Thought I'd visit Kid and see how that eye's doing," She asked. The eye was probably long-since healed and her checking on him was probably uncalled for... But there was really nothing else to do, so why not right? With her question asked she turned and began to walk towards where the shots rang out.

Alex smiled at the invitation. "It would be my honer." he said and began to follow Val "I was also hopping to see how kid was doing, being a fellow marksman I feel for him, cant imagine what I would do if I lost my good eye, he is stronger then me." Alex said felling bad for his ally's disability, but knew it would be rude to show him petty, not that he needed any. In this base it did not seem to matter whether or not you could fight for is seemed like the only skills needed to survive were the skill to stay warm and to not be a dumb ass. Seems like half this base should be dead if that really was the case he thought. "I heard that he was still having trouble aiming though." he added hoping that is was not true. The two of them soon arrived at the range Alex watched as Kid fired a round of magnum shots which were surprising accurate. Maybe those rumors about him still being unable to shoot are fake, seems like it. Alex saw Kid go over and began to speak with Hornet.

"Looks like Kid in the middle of a nice little chat with Hornet "seems like they are going to have a nice chat want to get in the middle of it?" but then saw him look over two them.

"Well, well... hey doc. What brings you out to our little piece of frozen hell?" Kid said

Alex walked over to them "Oh we are on a romantic date obviously, that why we deiced to see how you guys are doing." He said in a joking manor "All joking aside, hows your eye doing? You seem to be quite well" indicating to the target full of holes.

Jean smiled and looked up from the targets. "I never said I was worried about the weather." She listened to his question about retiring. "Well you could go on a space cruise, I hear a lot of retired people go on cruises." She joked and then twirled around when Shane addressed the medic, she was with the other onsite sniper. "Oh hey. I'm Jean, the Hornet Pilot." She said introducing herself to both Valerie and Alexander. She looked at Alexander as he responded to Shane's question and then mentioned the eye. She holster her pistol and looked at the Command Centre and remembered she needed to check if communications with ATLAS had been opened up yet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check if we have any form of communication with ATLAS yet." She waved and started walking towards the Command center.

"What Alex said. We're on a date, don't we make quite the pair?" Val chuckled, playing along with Alex's joke. Once the good-natured ribbing was done, she reached into her medical bag and fished for the scanner she had just put away. After a couple of moments fruitlessly searching she finally reeled out her prize. "Just checking on that eye of yours. Would hate for it to go from bad to worse. Personally, I'd suggest an eyepatch. Women love that jazz, you know?" She teased as she powered on the scanner. A couple of beeps later it was up and running.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Her fingers drummed a practiced, furious pace. Each tap was followed by a beep-- that was easily cut off by the next tap. Before long, she held out the Scanner in Kid's general direction as it scanner him. It only took mere moments for the results to come back. "The eye's fine, all things considering. No infection, no rot, it's all go accept for the seeing bit. But you probably already knew that," She said with a smile as she tucked the scanner away back into her pack. She then looked past Kid and towards the target in which he had been firing at. The clustering was good, and right in center mass too. Smart fellow. Why go for the headshot, when a well placed shot to the chest could be just as fatal.

"Though, I wouldn't say that it slowed you down any," She said nodding towards the target. "A few more practice sessions and I'm willing to be you'd be right back to your normal self," She said with a warm smile.

Braxx paced back and forth, awaiting the arrival of the captain. This wasn't anything important, and he knew it. It was just another day in this big refrigerator. Upon his third or fourth pass, his eye caught on the frame that hung on his wall. There behind the glass were the dog tags of every man that fell in battle under his command, kept in memory of their sacrifice and a permanent reminder to the Major of what he owes to the Covenant. Two of their's for every one of ours. His fingers lightly slid along the cold glass, in remembrance of each good man who gave their life for humanity. As he moved away from the frame, there was a strange buzz in the air. Almost like it was electrified, but more so. It was cold, foreboding even, and left it's sickly presence to stir at the bottom of his gut. It could have been a million things, a omen or warning of what was to come, but the Major wasn't a superstitious man. He simply shook it off as one of the MRE's returning to have it's revenge, which they often did.

"Sir, Captain Conway is here."

"Ah.... yes....."

"Major? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes. Just some.... bad memories. Send the Captain in."

A smirk forms on the Major's face as Dalton enters his office. Braxx holds up two beers, still having that sly smile. He knew they aren't allowed to drink on duty, but there wasn't ever going to be any action here. Braxx tossed the Captain a beer, which he caught with ease. You throw enough ammo clips back and forth while ducking plasma fire, and catching anything else becomes a cinch.

"I know it's not your brand, but it's all I got. At least I can guarantee it's cold..."

Half an hour passed of the two BSing back and forth, as usual. Old war stories, from back when they were actually in the damn war.

"So now we're pinned behind the carcass of our goddamn tank, right? Monkeys and midgets pouring the light show all over us, all led by this ugly-ass bearded one. Big bastard, huge! And in a nice and shiny suit of armor, with a damn turret, to boot. Three of ours are wounded pretty bad, and we lost our sniper cover. The apes were listening to every word of gibberish that old bastard shouted out, so we figured he must be one of those chieftains. Phillips said something about how they might break ranks if we could off their boss, and a second later they stopped shooting. All- well, most of them. Figured they screwed up and didn't sync their reloads, and before I know it our rookie pulls out a freaking baseball. I asked him what the hell he was thinking, and he told me he could kill the chieftain. With the ball. You can see why I was skeptical, but what the hell? We were pretty screwed, anyway."

Braxx pauses in his story, popping the cap on his next bottle. Taking one swig from the fresh beer, he grins with a light chuckle. Shaking his head, he looks back to Dalton to continue his tale.

"So we give the kid support, and that bearded freak starts monologuing. Just yapping up a storm, you know. 'Weak humans, we smash you' blah blah yadda yadda. Anyway, I'm looking at the kid, wondering why he ain't doing anything. He's just sitting there in his little pitcher pose, rubbing the damn ball and shaking his head. I finally snap and order him to throw it, and..... whew, thunk. Right.... down... the son of a bitch's throat. I. Shit. You. Not. So now he's grabbing at his throat, all his buddies are freaking out cause apparently nobody taught them CPR, and we're laughing our asses off. I almost rolled out of cover, and took a hit to the arm. Sure enough, the remaining nimrods are panicking and we start dropping what we can. About five minutes later, a falcon passed by and mopped up the rest. To this day, I still can't believe the rook pulled that off. I still can't believe it worked..."

The Major paused once more, looking up towards the ceiling and lifting his bottle.

"Here's to you, kid. Where ever you ended up."

Suddenly, a luminescent form manifests in the corner of the room, it's blue female body being constructed in front of them. Amanda's hair waves slightly, as if from some non-existent breeze. She gives a warming smile, nodding at the two respectfully.

"Major. Captain. I'll pretend that isn't alcohol your both drinking. I have the report from ATLAS as to our communication issues. Short range comms are up, but understaffed. All of ONI's personnel at the base are currently busy in the final phases of their project."

"Any word on what the damn thing is, yet?"

"Classified."

"Why'd I ask?"

"Why, indeed. Though there are more... interesting bits of news from them. It seems that all off-planet communications are down as well. This has several of the researches worried, as such a thing is unusual for a storm to disrupt. Perhaps this is- ....Oh. Major, I have Ricks on comms channel. He says it's urgent, shall I patch him through?"

The Major placed the bottle on his desk and straightened up. Even though he believed a beer or two would never alter his judgement, it was still bad for his image to be seen drinking by his men. Shoulder's back, chest out, and arms behind his back, he stood facing the monitor.

"Proceed..."

The screen came to life, giving the image of a marine with a covered face. Fog leaking from the bit of cloth that covered his mouth.

"Major Braxx, Sir. I.... think I know why we've been cut off. Your going to want to see this...."

The camera's point of view shifted as it was moved over the small ridge the marine was hiding behind. What was being shown were several blurred figures trudging through the snow, which became clearer as the camera focused. The image sharpened, and revealed these to be Covenant forces. A small scouting party by the looks of it, mostly jackals and brutes. One of the bird-headed creatures trips, falling beak-first into the white powder.
"Stop wasting time!" bellows the brute at his back, launching the scrawny critter with a powerful kick and sending it flying. Another hairy monster roars at the first. "Keep your voice down, they can hear us."

Braxx looks at the monitor in disbelief. The only question ringing through his head being "how?" It simply isn't possible, but there they are. The Covenant has found Outpost 314.

"My God..." utters the Major, still unable to believe what he's seeing. The camera's view shifts once again back to Ricks.

"Major.... they're heading away from us. I..... I think we've already been scouted, sir. And.... there's more. Give me a sec..."

The camera reverts once again to the marines visor, as he crawls silently through the deep snow. Peering down over a ledge, the screen fills with the terrible visage of a large ground force, being comprised of mainly ghosts and grunts. The course of their slow, waddling march is unmistakable. Their heading for the fort.

"Theirs a lot of light infantry, down their. I think they're gonna test our defenses. I don't see any he- Gagh!"

Ricks cries out, his visor showing the pink spike protruding from his shoulder. Blood corrupts the snow, as he rolls over to behold the face of a very unhappy brute. The soldier can scarcely do anything but choke and gurgle out his protest, as the beast raises it's spiker. The screen cuts out.

"Corporal? Corporal! Damn it!" Braxx yells, a fiery yearning for vengeance already forming as he springs into action.

"Amanda, how far away was this transmission?"

"Less than two klicks out. I'd estimate they'll quicken their pace, seeing as they know we're aware."

"Agreed. Amanda, set the base to high alert and tell ATLAS what's really going on. Captain, get the troops together and prep our defenses. Keep squads hunkered down in the trench till we can offer enough support for their charge. Tell Wolf-Team Alpha and Bravo to hold their fire until the enemy is in their crossfire, giving our men on the ground heavy sniper cover. Have them focus on counter-sniping those damn birds! I don't want to be ducking my god damn head every three seconds. We can't let them think we're at a disadvantage, so we have to put them down hard! It's time to see if ONI built this piece of scrap on a budget or not."

Having given his standing orders, Braxx proceeded to gear himself up with his personal supplies. It felt almost too long since he had to don combat armor, but it was a long missed memory. Locked, cocked, and armed for bear, he proceeded through the yard as the alarm sounded. Men were rushing to battle stations, taking posts in the towers and walls. The unmistakable smell of cheap cigarettes gave a clear location of Corporal Jack Carter, the only person crazy enough to smoke around extremely flammable ammunition.

"Carter! Gear up and have your squad spaced out in the trench. Do not reveal your presence till I give the say so. I don't want to miss the look of 'oh shit' on their face when they see we brought hellbringers, so don't screw it up."

The Major took his position on the forward wall. This was the first time he'd seen combat in months and he wanted nothing more than to be on the ground with his men, but this elevated view gave him the ability to better direct his men's efforts. He lit up another cigar as the blast shields began to retract, opening up the field of fire. The blizzard made it impossible to see out into the distance, but they were out there. The Covenant. Braxx could feel it. He pulled out his PDF and opened communication with the sniper teams. The names and status of both teams were displayed, and he could see the team leaders were taking their positions.

"Alpha, Bravo, report. Do you have eyes on the Covy's position?"

A cold, monotone voice replied back to him "No joy. Alpha wolves got nothing in our scopes, Sir."

"Damn. Waddell, what can you and Bravo see from the West?"

---Barracks---

At the scream of the Sergeant the Aussie was upon on his feet, groaning lightly. Confirmed Covenant attack... This would be one of his first actual engagements with the said Alien Foes that had been slicing the Human's defenses open like butter since an assault on Harvest years back. That was all history though, what matters was that they were here at this very moment on his doorstep. Greyson along with most of his squad hustled to the Armory to suit up, quickly finding his armor set he slid it on, clicking the straps, magnets, and other devices of secure holding into place before sliding his helmet on. His armor was reinforced with an extra layer of steel due to the amount of attention he drew with his job of Support Gunner and Anti-Armor duty. As his helmet slid on he saw his HUD popping up and as he activated the Comms, heard the scrambling of the bases defenses. Next he grabbed his grenades, two anti-infantry fragmentation, and three anti-vehicular high explosives. Then came his armaments. Shuffling over, concentrated and focused he grabbed his Light Machine Gun and its ammunition and soon his Rocket Launcher. If felt as if he put a tank on his back, the weight of the 50. Cal Ammo and Dumb-Fire rockets weighed a ton and even in his shape strained him to move quickly. But mobility was underrated. He lagged behind the rest of the group as they exited the armory, having to take it slow to not overexert himself as a beast-of-war's-burden.

---Trenches---

Again the last one out of the yard in his squad he ran behind another member of it. Soon he too was pulling his mask over his face as the cold blasted his all too human skin. He was used to a hot city in the Southern Hemisphere of a temperate world, this on the other hand, this was hell to any Australian who had his head on straight. But he minded himself, not complaining, saving his breathe for the battle to come.

He passed the Hellbringers and couldn't help but smile. "Light 'em Torch Boys!" Were the first few words that came from his mouth, deeply accented. Soon he was placed in next to the female Corporal of his squadron. Checking his LMG as asked, not daring to use to the Launcher on his back until Hostile Heavy Armor actually came into sight. The man found himself shaking and his stomach churning in though of engaging enemies that were both physically and technologically more advanced than humanity and in a dead blizzard too. However, he shook his head clear, feeling his heart burn in determination again. Turning and whispering to the female next to him, he chuckled lightly at her snickering. "Whatta day for a bloodbath, 'ey?" A morbid battlefield joke, one he had said in Basic during weapons training once or twice, quickly turning to watch the snow.

"I see Cap'n drank his 'Oorah Juice' this morning."

"It only makes things more interesting." Dalton replied with a grin, a tight grip on the handle of his one weapon. He closed his eyes and simply listened to the distant wails of detonating fuel cores and machine gun fire. It only brought back memories of prior battles, which he cherished for the sheer reason of absolute boredom and spite for this frosty dump he had been assigned to. But now.... now it was alive! Now it was filled with those roars of gunfire and explosions only madmen missed. The smell of burning grunts hadn't reached them yet. Thankfully. But, it was only a matter of time before they would engage, and it was definetly something he couldn't wait for.

"Dalton, your boys up for good times? Cause I think these little bastards aim to introduce themselves to your rifles. Infantry..... prepare to engage."

"They'd damn well better be." he smirked. "I didn't wait in this place, doing nothing just so a bit of laziness would get me killed." he took a small step forward before addressing all of his men with a tone only a CO could have... legally at least.

"You heard the Major!" he boomed. "Get your asses ready for some fun! I want rifles at the ready and scopes being used effectively. And you'd better not miss, either!" he added. "I want to see that training in action, I want to see accuracey you aren't physically capable of, soldiers! Don't you let me down or I'll make damn sure you do a five laps around the whole base for every wasted bullet, and that means non-fatal injuries!"

Soldiers began standing up and readying their rifles to fire on the approaching horde, as instructed. The sound of preparation was music to Dalton's ears, and he watched over them with a satisfied smirk on his face. Sure enough, seconds later, he watched as the men had their weapons aimed downrange, aimed at the advancing horde and waiting to strike. He could only hope that they didn't just have a good form.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitty, shit, McShit-shit.

So goes Laughlin's internal monologue as they're all called up to the line. She stands agaisnt the wall and raises her rifle, using its barrel to push asside some of the accumulated snow on the rim so that her comparatively short 5'6" self can get a good view downrange without having to ask for a step ladder. The driving blizzard immediately pelts her in the face despite the snug snowmask, making sure to frost up her left-eye HUD for good measure until she rubs it irritably with her thumb.

Dalton's speech goes in one ear and barely registered before it flies out the other, logged under "Oorah, motivation, kill." If nothing else, though, the normality of such a traditional Marine pep-talk did help to settle her nerves. Sure. This was just a normal day. A little cold, a little dangerous, but normal. So dont screw up or everyone would laugh.

Holding her breath against the biting wind and squinting across the snowfield, the distant noise seems to keep getting louder without actually revealing itself. At least there were -some- advantages. For instance, the overcast from the blizzard meant they werent worrying about snow blindness just now. Secondly, if they couldnt see the Covenant, it was a good bet that the Covenant couldnt see them, either.

Her silent point is proven. A grunt, used to their icy methane home and so faster in it than some other beings, manifests in the distance when the blowing snow reveals him. Squat, ugly, mean little bastard. His distinct armor and pebbly dark skin is such a sudden contrast to the shadowy shapes and shades of white that Laughlin startles with a loud yelp, finger reflexively jerking the trigger of her rifle. Three hot bullets sizzle through the snow in a burst, 'walking' up the alien body as she forgets to hold tight enough to prevent that rising recoil.

With a squeal and a miniature font of irridescent blood, the grunt falls back and disappears as the snowstorm sweeps up again.

Transfixed, the Corporal stares for a long moment, before she remembers to breathe.

"I got him.... I GOT HIM!" She shouts, thumping Greyson - who was next to her - on the shoulder.

And then, as if it were a signal, the covenant is there. Plasma streaks across the space and alien shapes press towards them in the snow. Laughlin ducks with another yelp to avoid having revenge taken on her face as, all down the line, Marines open fire and make their reply with ferocious human lead.

Alex smiled a bitter sweet smile as he saw the grunt die and heard "Alpha wolves..." A voice came through over the channel "First kill." Alex looked back at his men most seeming to be getting in a competitive mind set taking that as a challenge. It was tradition for Alpha and Bravo teams to compete to see who did best, needles to say Alpha normally came out on top but Alex was going to make sure that he would lead his men to victory.

"Oh so that's how its going to be" Brendon said excepting the challenge. Before Alex could get a word in a wake of ghost charged in but were blown to bits from the overwhelming firepower the rest of the base laid down. Alex only got off two shots. the first one missing a grunts head by a few centimeter, the second his one in its wing causing the vehicle to go out of control and crash into the ghost bedside it causing them to both crash and burn. It was a satisfying kill but little in comparison to they devastation the base had caused to the attackers.

"That was too easy, keep your eyes open men" Alex said to his team "I mean it would be kinda hard to aim with your eyes closed now wouldn't it" some of the men chuckled at this "After all we need to show Alpha team who is the better shot" most of his men cheered at this were as Brendon just grunted. Alex reloaded his rifle as he saw the next wave approaching. Grunts piled upon grunts ridding prowlers if they we not so intent on killing all of them he might have thought it to be funny. A grunt rush, oh fun

Alex washed as they advanced into the kill box. Alex looked though he scope, alining his cross hairs over a week point in there framework, the bare that connected one of there two fins to the main frame, luckily the grunts were not covering this vital point on there vehicle. Alex put his finger on the trigger feeling the cool metal on his skill, felt the scope become an extension of his eye and the barrel his arm. Alex took in a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew stare and true as it hit the mark, destroying the alien metal casing the fin to brake off. The vehicle flipped over itself sending the crew flying, most of them landing on the hard snow killing them on impact were as one somehow managed to fly onto a Prowler surviving. Surprised at this Alex fired three more shots aimed at the driver only to have the last one hit, causing it to crash into a rock killing all of the grunts except for the one who had survived the first crash. "I do not know how the Hell that son of a bitch survived but I am so going to kill that grunt" Alex said to himself both in an angry and surprised matter "What would those fools in Alpha team think if they hear that I could not kill a single grunt"!

(A few posts back)
Jean ignored the Major's command and flew straight, right into the horde. The wind created a lot of turbulence but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Once the Major threatened Jean's license she got worried and nearly gave in but the Major cracked first and gave her access. She flew right past the Covenant numbers and searched for the reinforcements. "Major I found them, they're just less than a click away." She informed the Major and turned the Hornet around to fly back around to the main fight.

Jean steadied her hornet above the trenches, Jean prepared the guns and artillery. She aimed at the groups most likely to take the base out. "Sir, I have an opening, want me to take it?"

It was madness, wasnt it? Plasma comming in, bullets going out. Shouts and yells and alien screams. The roar of the Hornet's engines overwhelm the wail of the swarming Prowlers, but the snow prevents anything but the view of a big shadow. Not that Laughlin was busy sky-gazing.

The Corporal kept her rifle downrange, shooting at anything that opened itself up. She could never really tell if she'd hit or not, with how often the Covenant were quick to reply and force her head back down under the trench. There was no more snow in front of her. A close shot from a Prowler's guns had flash-boiled it, and made the bare dirt beneath hot to the touch besides. Freezing five minutes before, now she was soaked in sweat and panting for air.

"Christ on a crutch, how many are -out- there?!" She wonders out loud, sliding down the wall of the trench to sit on the firing bench while she reloads, tossing the empty mag into a growing pile of similar cases.

The Marine assigned to pop fresh rounds into those spent mags shrugs and tosses her a fresh one.

Hell, I thought the war was over! No one said shit about this when I signed up!

Wiggling the magazine into its place and giving it a securing smack in the palm of her glove, Laughlin does get a chance to look up briefly at the gray skies, "Storm's still really bad... Do you think we're going to call in for reinforcements?"

Laughlin didnt wait for an answer. It was really a rhetorical question, anyway. Unless the Major called on a drastically over-encoded channel, she'd know about it. Standing back up on the bench, she ducked sharpley as a plasma grenade's explosion sends ice flying, giving it a half-second to settle before she lifts her rifle to shoot a reply back into the Covenant lines. There were enough of them that they were pushing. What were just vehicles and dark shapes were now distict alien bodies.

In the famous words of the equally famous SgtMaj Johnson... this was gonna get hot.

"All deployments, focus fire on the Prowlers. Take out their pilots when their exposed. Conway, things are going to get a little heavy. Stay frosty and drop 'em as they line up. Carter, the mini-me's are piling up, keep your men on stand-by. I'd like not to give your presence away this early, but I'm trusting you not to jump the gun here. You can question my good judgement later, just keep those torches lit and at the ready."

Jack let out a deep breath as the thought of torching some Covenant ass rose to the forefront of his mind, but he obeyed the orders. "Steady, the lot of you. We'll get our chance to shine. And we'll light these bastards up in the galaxy's biggest fucking bonfire!" The other four Hellbringers nodded and many prepared their starting stances for when they would wade through the Covenant forces, throwing napalm everywhere.

-------------------------------------------------

Shane fired his battle rifle, sticking to a single shot per target as he peered through the scope. Grunt after grunt fell, with only three shots missing due to his body still not being used to holding the weapon in his forced ass backwards manner. He kept his bad eye closed and his ears open for any nearby sounds.

As luck would have it, Shane spotted a prowler moving in. The first shot bounced off the brute gunner's helmet. "Oh for fuck's sake..." He muttered as he took the next shot. And managed to knock the helmet from the brute's head, exposing him even better to the snipers and other soldiers.

Shane backed as close to the wall as he could and then rolled to avoid the blast radius of the plasma. It was warm... a feeling Shane hadn't felt in a long ass time. He reveled in the heat and switched hands as the grunt wave came upon them. He switched hands on his battle rifle and started shooting as a reflex. Grunt after grunt fell to his shots, though many returned fire. They missed, barely in some case and by a large margin in others. As he was killing, he saw a massive hulk nearby.

It was the Major.

Dodging a plasma grenade, that exploded and sent another wave of heat over him, Shane slowly worked his way towards his C.O. "How bad is it, sir?" He asked, as one grunt tried a kamikaze attack and was shot before it could even get ten feet from the edge of the trench.

-------------------------------

Jack looked up in time to see the plasma. As it was, there was only one way to be safe from the artillery. "Into the hole! Now!" The squad of Hellbringers raced back inside and waited for the bombardment to be over. Looking over his squad, Jack ground his teeth together.

If that was how the Covenant was going to play it...

He motioned for the squad to go back outside and stood at the ready. The grunts were getting close. Too close. Just as he was about to disobey orders and signal his squad to counterattack, he heard the words he was dying to hear. "Carter! Now!"

"Okay boys, form up and light 'em up! Remember our equal opportunity policy with the Covenant! Every last one of these motherfuckers dies here!" The squad formed a wedge with Jack taking point, Beam and Noble to either side of him and Barnes and Daniels taking on the outside part of the wedge.

Jack started walking out towards the enemy, leading his men to the very front of the wave of Covenant forces. As soon as he saw the first grunt get close enough, he started spraying napalm, bathing the alien force in the liquid fire. To both of his sides, his squad was doing exactly the same. Not even the prowlers were safe as Barnes sprayed the brute occupants of a couple of them. There was no need to do much in the way of dodging. The wedge was creating a protective 100 meter radius of fire that obscured the group of Hellbringers from view, so most shots went wide or could be dodged by spreading out the formation a little before tightening back up.

-------------------------------

Shane stiffened, shocked by the destructive force the Major had just ordered onto the battlefield. The fire melted the snow and the napalm stuck to the ground, burning fiercely until the water from the snow put it out, only to be replaced with fire a little further than the last line in the snow.

Conway wasn't too happy with the fact that he was having to re-teach some of these imbeciles how to fire a gun in the middle of a live firefight. There weren't too much, thankfully, but a couple of these so-called 'marines' weren't hitting anything but the snow beneath their targets, or were running the risk of nailing their one bird in the air.

Dalton was fed up by the time he received orders from Braxx.

"Conway, check the line and make sure anti-armor aren't slacking off again, like that last drill."

"Will do." came Conway's reply as he remembered that other problem he had with his men. Anti-armor was much, much more important that teaching his men, who should know how to fire a damn gun, how to shoot in the middle of this shitstorm, and so he went to check on his heavy-armed men, who were hiding on either sides of the main trenches. There were marines armed with rocket launchers, marines carrying grenade launchers, and a good-sized chunk of marines with sniper rifles. Of course these snipers were meant for anti-vehicle, not infantry, and with a few well-placed shots from their rifles, a even a Wraith wouldn't stand much of a chance.

"What the hell are you doing wasting all that ammo on grunts, soldiers? We've got purple-pounders inbound, and I don't like them getting close, you hear? Vehicles take top priority over infanty, and as for expolosives? I want you to wait until they are within RANGE before you try to fire. Same for everyone else." Dalton wasn't done there, and went to give out more instruction when...

"Mortar rounds incoming!"

*Boom!* *BANG!*

Not only did the sound of the purple plasma smacking into the ground fill the air, but various screams and a few death cries as well. Conway managed to jump his way out of lethal radius, but one of the explosions managed to send him a few feet into the air and almost burning his arm horribly. As he pushed himself off the ground, he coughed and shook his head to rid himself of the ringing. That hurt, but he'd been through worse, and wouldn't be thrown out of the game just yet. Not while his men were still alive. "Anyone heavies still alive: Kill those goddamned Revenants!" he barked an order he couldn't personally hear just yet.

His hands weren't staying still, his fingers were itching to be used to pull the trigger to whatever gun they could, and Dalton was about to scavenge a weapon off one of his now-deceased men when Braxx spared him that effort, and tossed him a good rifle. Now he was feeling better. "I don't remember these aliens using such tactics under Brute command, sir." Dalton began as he kneeled down and pumped well-placed rounds into grunts that were way too close for comfort. Braxx was using a shotgun.... and getting kills. How the hell did they get so close? The Captain managed three more grunts before being forced to swap his magazine for a new one. "Whatever this implies, I don't like it one bit."

Corporal Laughlin regains the wall as the Hellbringers push the grunts back. She passes Valerie hunched over the multitude of wounded, and her eyes dance briefly across pale faces to see if she recognized anyone, even if a voice in the back of her mind tells her she'd rather not know. Of course she would recall them; the post was too tiny not to. But these faces, twisted in agony or frozen in horrified surprise, were all strangers and completely removed from the Marines Sarah might have recognized. She'd seen them bored, annoyed, laughing, even pissed off and ready to fight. But never like this. The niggling question comes despite her efforts to supress it. Would someone recognize her, in all of this? Maybe a faceless letter would be better for family than comming to claim a body. It would rip her mom apart. A mass grave of anonymity on some far away alien world would be much more distant, an easier idea to live with.

The thought is colder than the ice that surrounds them, and serves to clear the rest of the fog from her head. She shoves it down into the bitter pit in the center of her gut, banishing it. The fear that swaddles it becomes her focus; fear that if she didnt win, there would be more faces in the snow leering up at people who might know them. The Corporal howls and opens fire at the backs of the covenant that press away from the flamethrowers, determined to teach them the folly of attacking a goddamn Marine.

Word begins snaking down word-of-mouth. The Major was going to order them foreward. Ammunition and replacement weapons trickle down, and Marines start appearing at the wall wearing the white of fresh bandages. Bolstered by the fire-flinging badasses and the word that they had utterly obliterated the Covenant artillery, catcalls and angry roars once again start building up in the lines. They wanted it. They wanted to spring over that wall and make the Covenant pay tenfold for every drop of human blood on the snow. Devildogs on a tight leash, and the Major had his finger on the release.

She glances back and -does- recognize Greyson. The big Aussie bastard was hard to miss. It'd earned him endless ridicule, but right now the Corporal was just happy to see a face she fucking recognized in this press of madness.

"Lion! Over here! We're gonna take the fight to them, and I would feel a helluva lot better having your grenade-happy ass nearby!" Her usual shit-eating grin is shaken, but she musters up a suitable ammount of 'oorah-diggity' to bring the tone of her voice back into acceptable ranges of good humor.

"Lion! Over here! We're gonna take the fight to them, and I would feel a helluva lot better having your grenade-happy ass nearby!" Was the first thing the Aussie heard after firing a second rocket into the fray, he couldn't help but grin under his snow and frost at the term "grenade-happy", just because he was a Boomer, or atleast that was what he called himself, did not make him grenade-happy. He moved over next to the Corporal and chuckled. "With all do respect Laughlin are you sure that's what you want? I could just end up blowing you up too... But since I got an invitation..." His accented voice shaky but amused in itself.

Squatted down next to the Corporal he wanted for the general order of attack, sliding his rocket launcher back into place on his back and pulling his LMG back off it's chest holster. "I will need cover Laughlin, I move slow, so would you mind...? It'll be like a dance." He uttered next, a small snerk in his voice. His hands still shaking on the piece of metal-covered death in his hand as he loaded a new clip. The soft clicking noise of the clip into the gun similar to that of dropping a marble on the floor over and over. Annoying a lot of the time but on this battle field oddly calming.

He peaked over the trench as he waited, watching the Gauss guns in the sniper nests tear the remaining Revenants apart in a glorious display of plasma and asymphony of destruction, the screeching and roaring of bending metal, the fizzle of falling plasma, burning its way slowly into the snow and ice covered earth of this hellhole of a planet. The screams and dying yells of unlucky pilots, getting torn apart by the meddly of dangerous flames, fumes, and shrapnel. To some soldier's this may have been a wondrous sight... To Greyson. Not so much. Even if they were aliens it made him think what ifs.. Like if the pushing vehicles where Warthogs getting shredded fuel-rod Shade turrets.

Ducking back down he took a deep shuddering breath before looking about the Trenches, his gaze, distorted lightly caught the eyes of a dead marine, blood dripping down the man's shoulders, eyes blank and abysmal, memories gone and burned away. He felt his heart begin to pound and blood rush to his head. The sound thudding over and over, this was battle, this was war. And he was trapped in its dimensions, seeing the reality of it for the first time. Shaking his head he pushed it all away and turned slowly to Laughlin. Looking towards her for a second. Wondering if she could be next to join the bodies on the ground or could he. But that didn't matter. He shook his head clear a second time and removed his mask for a second, vomitting onto the ice next to him nervous paranoia.

"Are you ready Laughlin?" He asked, popping back up. Head now clear, ready to charge, accepting the fact that not everyone came home from this deadly game know as warfare.

Quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had seen in a while, Conway was gifted by the sight of flames and grunts being combined to make a most very hilarious display, or so Dalton thought as each one of the grunts, set aflame, attempted anything they could to escape the pain and suffering from the fire they were engulfed in. Their attempts all failed as eventually, they stopped moving, killed by the flame or better yet, the tanks on their backs ruptured, exploded and only made the sight more awe-inspiring. If they weren't stuck smack-dab in the middle of battle, Conway would've given Carter a handshake right then and there. Braxx was probably just as happy as he was, the way he spoke made it sound it sound like that. "You're damn right he does. I'm buying him a drink once we're done here." Dalton smirked.

Unhappy. Almost immediately later, Dalton felt himself unhappy with this situation. Casualties left and right, green darts flying about, it pissed him off to see this, and he'd make sure the covies would pay for each human life they unwittingly took. He'd make damn sure they would, with his own hands if he had to. For now, he was using his rifle to do exactly what Braxx was doing, and that was pumping rounds into the beasts behind the flames. Call it cruel, but Dalton noticed one of his bursts had trailed off into a Grunt's leg and was non-fatal. Poor bastard was unable to nub itself away anymore, but was awefully close to the fire that was creeping its way towards the little devil. Dalton kept his eye out for others, popping some more, but also seemed to just smile when the flames caught up to him and began burning him slowly.... he screamed for his worthless life, eventually going quiet about a minute or two later, then exploding. Pretty.

"The Covy's aren't retreating, they're stalling. For what, for who, I don't know. What I do know is we have to break their foothold before whatever it is gets here. Prepare the men, as soon as Carter's boys are back we have to make a push. I don't like it any more than you do, but we have to break them here and now."

*Whoosh!*

Right past Conway's head flew one of those fatal, green rounds shot from a carbine. Well, it went over Conway's head because he had ducked into cover to reload, and unlike some novice rook, he made she he wasn't vulnerable to enemies while he did so. Dalton shook his head in distaste, but nevertheless, obeyed his orders and took out his radio because he figured he wasn't going to be able to shout over all of the gunfire. "This is Captain Conway speaking.... Any and all of you men and woman still not lying in a pool of your own blood, or better yet, alien blood, prepare yourselves! Fresh mags and a hardened reserve! We're taking our playground back from them, and you'd better be BEFORE I am! Now get moving!"

A group of marines next to Conway himself and Braxx answered: "Ho-ah!" before taking defense so they could keep their heads before the rush. Conway shook his head and smiled. At least some of the men know how to listen. These other ones though....

Well, maybe he should've gaven that order before he was ready, instead of after.

"You know what they say about running away from Bears don't you?" he smirked as he looked at Braxx. "You don't have to outrun the bear itself, just your friends. For their sake, I hope they know that, or this is going to wind up more messy than it should be. But then again, I've always wanted to see a Bear tear apart a grunt. You think you can grant that wish for me, Sir?" Braxx could probably tell that Dalton was excited, and that the blood was pumping through his veins. If anything, possibly even one of those brutes had made the mistake of getting up close, Dalton might've punched it square in the face.

Shane tried aiming at the sources of the green streaks through the flames, but it just wasn't very possible. Even with his battle rifle. If was frustrating. Because even with the flames and the explosive, flying grunts, the jackels were getting too close for comfort.

"The Covy's aren't retreating, they're stalling. For what, for who, I don't know. What I do know is we have to break their foothold before whatever it is gets here. Prepare the men, as soon as Carter's boys are back we have to make a push. I don't like it any more than you do, but we have to break them here and now." Shane overheard the Major say to the Captain.

And he just smiled as a desire to make a contribution kicked into overcharge.

-------------------

"Carter! Get Your Asses Back Here, Now! They're Aiming For Your Tanks!"

Jack heard the Major and quickly assessed the situation, just in time to witness a close call as Noble's tank was missed by a green energy round. Even for a PFC, Noble apparently had issues with a few things... such as staying in formation. If they lived to get back to somewhere safe, Jack was going to give him the ass chewing of a lifetime.

"Alright asses back to the trench, make your tanks as hard to hit as possible!" Jack ordered. "Don't let up on the fire though." He added as he shot a grenade high into the Covenant forces. Steadily, he and the others backed up towards the trenches and finally made it to relative safety. Jack looked at the Major and nodded. "Orders, sir?"

It was a bloodbath, this battlefield that Dalton found himself fighting on. And, luckily enough, none of the freshest blood appeared to be any of his mens', which only made his day that much more bearable. He kept a curved smile on his face due to the sheer enjoyment he was that they were nearly effortlessly pushing these aliens back from the base. They would know never to attack another human base so long as they lived - if they lived.

Conway, along with his men that were pushing forward through the covenant forces as if they were a knife and the aliens were butter, fired his weapon at the retreating enemies, scoring a few hits along the back of a small grouped-up bunch of grunts, tearing through the canister on the back of one and sending him flying forwards into another, at which point the canister detonated in a beautiful display of plasma fire and ragdoll grunts. God was it a sight to behold. Every alien kill was, or at least the veteran soldier would like to believe so. Serves them right for picking a fight they couldn't handle.

There was still retaliatory fire, but it was very minimal - to the point where Conway didn't even have to bother with hiding behind any of the wrecked Prowlers or Ghosts, he continued forwards, pulling the trigger and letting loose a couple of bursts from the barrel of his Assault Rifle, all of which were accurate and well-placed in the Covy-asses that they were showing. He wasn't too far from what targets he picked, so each round that soared gracefully through the air found its mark without fail. He was only relenting when he had to be, exchanging an empty magazine for a fresh one and popping in the bottom of the weapon, hearing it click in place. After that he'd continue with more bursts almost like a robot programmed to do so.

He was actually so into the killing that when he was about to finish off one more grunt and he ran out of ammo once more, he wasted no time in retrieving his combat knife and gripping it by the blade as he lined it up and gave it a hefty chuck. It would then fly through the air, following the grunt a small distance before he would turn to fire a few purple needles to cover his escape, only to be impaled through the head. Dalton, who had only occasionally thrown a knife out of sheer boredom, was surprised at his own accuracy, but smiled nontheless.

A short jog to the body of the grunt later, he reached down quickly and pulled the knife from the body with a little bit of resistance due to it becoming stuck a bit too far into the unfortunate bastard's head. It was a confirmed kill, and though it was probably one of the more satisfying kills he had made in a while, he wasn't about to ditch his ranged Assault Rifle to see if he was a natural at it. He'd be fine with just calling it luck. And so, once more, he pulled a mag - his last one mind you - off of his person and slammed it into the bottom of his weapon. It was around this time that Braxx had callled his attention.

"Hey Dalton! First Knife Kill!"

Dalton audibly cackled with a laugh. "You might be a second late there, Major." he replied with a wide grin on his face. Of course it was wiped off as a bird-brain decided that it would be a good idea to get in close-range with the Big Bear. Dalton, who had been a witness to Braxx's combat abilities before, honestly feared nothing unfavorable to happen in this situation, and watched as the beaked assailant regretted ever getting in close with the giant, and then watched it die.

"I hate those God damn things"

With the Major victorious in the battle, as Dalton had predicted, the Captain made his way to Braxx with a few quick steps. He looked up to the man quite literally and spoke with that same grin from before. "I'm sure it just left you with another scar to scare the greens with." he chuckled a little bit, seeing as it didn't impede the Major's ability to fight in the least, he figured. "I'm sure you'll get a few of them back before they disappear with their beaks in their asses." with that, the Captain turned back and joined the 'mop-up' that took place for a small time later.

....
....
....

Dalton, the Captain, was not angered that they had just fallen for a trap such as this. No, this plan was actually excellently executed to make it as effective as possible. But he was pissed regardless. Since when did Brutes use strategy - and an effective one at that! If they had done this much earlier, he would be afraid that the human race might not have made it too long in the war, but still, he believed that they could 'bounce back' from this trap, whatever it was. Until the pods that had fallen from the heavens opened with their cargo, Hunters.

"Well spank my ass and call me Charlie....." he muttered to himself.

This was going to be a bloodbath, and this time it would easily be his own mens' blood staining this charred, green snow. Two was bad enough, but with each of the many pods opening, they were going to be slaughtered. They already were! The volley of plasma fire tore through many a marine squad, rendering them unconcious or dead, the latter being the most prominent. "Shit, Major! We need to do something quick!" he shouted over the loud booms and howls of the Hunter fire, each one doing damage in one way or another.