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Halo Clairvoyance
Advanced Drawing Assignment
Chapter 2

By Gary Cogdill



// January 20th, 2555 on board the UNSC Clairvoyance orbiting Unknown Planet //

Ren gazed at the new poster that the on board media station had spammed all across the Clairvoyance. The poster was that of covenant ships torn to pieces orbiting a planet that seemed to look like Reach, before it was turned into a pearl. Ren giggled at the unoriginal and poorly done work put into the poster. In it were some covenant ships from previous battles that the UNSC got lucky on, others were destroyed loyalists ships that the Elites had annihilated. Most of the ships were copied and pasted though, just pure laziness, but the main focus of the poster was bold white words saying "Honor the Fallen."

The memory was still fresh as ever in her mind, as if it was burned behind her eyes just yesterday. In her hometown in Wyoming people rocked the streets with celebration. Beer bottles flew half empty or half full, people firing make shift fire works, some even were just containers filled with dry ice thrown in the air as they went off. Her entire life was spent living in a world where humanity was losing a war against a alien empire that seemed unstoppable, but in the end there was light in the darkness the human race was sunken in to. That light was a single man that brought the covenant empire to it's knees. A Spartan. The stories spread across her town like wild fire and jumped into fairy tales in others, Spartans' were unbeatable, Spartans' were not human, Spartans' did not exists, Spartans ' are bioengineered. The stories she heard around the late night bonfires of these Spartans' would stand her hairs on end, like they were so powerful that even their stories sent electric shocks to the listeners, no matter how many times she heard it. Maybe it was the flickering light of the flames licking the night air, maybe it was just the atmosphere it created, or maybe it was that glimmer of hope that she held on to that made the word Spartan her Superman. That was when Ren was only 15 years old, it's been three years since then. She found it odd to think that so much took place and abruptly ended in such a short time.

Ren's day dream came to a screeching halt as she was startled when the hallway she was in began to shake. "The Covenant?" Ren whispered to herself. She raced to the window as her dark hair whipped around her from her speed. She soon came to see what was causing the floor to quake under her, a gigantic soldier sheltered in metallic armor which was poorly painted to look like woodland camouflage. She couldn't see his face as he still wore his helmet that looked extremely similar to those ODSTs wear. The armor was bent, burnt, scuffed, stained and any other adjective describing its poor condition. A jolt ran up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck rose with the ones on her arms. Her light, honey colored eyes widened and fixated on him. She pressed her hand to the window and her eyes met the metal man, her image reflected back in his visor. "A Spartan!" She breathed on the glass causing the water vapors to condense on it. He started moving, and she followed the Valkyrie shadow of him.

Adrenaline pumped through her body causing her to feel weightless as she sprinted down corridors and hallways. So many questions to ask, so many things she could learn! The Spartan kept on walking but even Ren couldn't keep up with his speed, she was baffled at this spectacle. The Spartan seemed distracted, from the stories Ren was told as a little girl and a marine, a Spartan could spot a grunt five miles away with just their eyes. This one, though, didn't even realize a marine was following him, it wasn't as if she was trying to keep herself hidden, she wanted him to see her. She sped past several marines, her tan skin and dark hair becoming just a blur to them. They eventually stopped what they were doing to watch what she was running after. Groups of them gawked at the Spartan walking to the bunk rooms. The bunk rooms? Ren thought. He can't sleep on any of those things wearing that. Ren lost sight of the Spartan when he went into the bunks. She quickly followed, only glancing back for a moment to see the crowd of people she had caused to follow her then her body hit something hard. Ren was knocked back on to the floor, startled she sat there trying to find where the sudden spark of pain had come from.

The Spartan slowly turned to see who had rear ended him. Ren rubbed her nose to ease the pain as the shadow of the massive figure engulfed her. The Spartan turned fully to face Ren, his armor's gel layer making indescribable sounds. Ren shook off the vertigo that was pounded into her head from impact, her ponytail had come loose and her long, chestnut hair wrapped around her shoulders. When she opened up her eyes a jet black hand was held out in her face she gulped and tried to suppress the sudden anxiety that had consumed her. Ren pulled her head back and stared, startled by the enormous hand.
"Here let me help you up marine" a deep voice rang. Ren grabbed it as it easily lifted her up to her feet. "I… I'm sorry sir!" Ren pleaded to the Spartan saluting awkwardly in the process. She was beyond embarrassed at her first encounter with a Spartan. Walking straight into him without paying proper attention, how could she have been so negligent. Several other marines were out of there beds in their pajamas looking at the two of them talk. To Ren it seemed like hours passed waiting for the Spartan's response.

"Its okay marine just look where you're going next time" the Spartan laughed. With that, the Spartan quickly turned and continued down the hall of bunk beds, but as he turned Ren caught a number on his chest plate. 089, The Spartan's tag is 089? Ren thought. As the Spartan reached the end of the hallway he stopped and looked at Ren again.
"And by the way, " Spartan-089 said "it's not nice to stalk someone." Then leaving her sight the Spartan continued to where ever he was going. Ren then finally noticed all the marines were gazing their eyes at her now. Ren turned bright red and stiffened, and quickly walked out of the room.

Embarrassed twice? What the hell! Ren thought as she exited the bunks into the hall once more. She spotted the Spartan again through blast doors that had been malfunctioning lately and were closed for repair. She quickly snapped herself to the wall to hide from the Spartan, and gently peered around the corner. The Spartan was greeted by a tall woman with a hug. She was covered with scars from top to bottom, dressed in regular marine attire Ren could only assume that the woman was also a Spartan herself. The female Spartan had her platinum gold hair tied into a pony tail just to keep it out of her face, and for assumed regulations.

After a few minutes of talking and laughing the two Spartans headed toward the armory after a lieutenant came up and said something to them. Ren knew she too could get to the armory fairly quickly so she sneaked to the armory door and she curiously looked into the armory through the door's window. Totally oblivious to the fact other marines were walking in and out the armory. Ren's day of hunting in Wyoming took over her senses as she kept her eyes on the Spartans being greeted by several ONI spooks.

The Spartan she came to call Spartan-089 had taken off several pieces of his armor to get comfortable. Finally, the unveiling of who was behind the helmet. He took lifted the battered helmet off his shoulders and gingerly set it on a table. To Ren's surprise Spartan-089 was well ...normal. Not a mythological beast that they were made out to be. His jawline was chiseled, like that of a leading man in the movies, and well groomed goatee. His once crew cut hair had grown out to a shaggier styled version, and his smile seemed to shift only to the right side of his face. His eyes to Ren were the best of his features. Hazel twirling down into dark brown, like the color of hot springs in Tensleep Wyoming she used to go to as a girl. Ren quickly snapped out of her probing thoughts. There is no way she could have the hots for a Spartan. That was definitely not allowed.

"You need something marine?" a male voice said out of no where startling Ren as she squeaked. The man shocked by the sound Ren made laughed "Wo! Hah, calm down there soldier. I'm sorry I spooked you" he apologized. "No sir let me apologize, I didn't know the Clairvoyance had Spartans aboard. I'm just a little star struck." She quickly said. "I'm as shocked as you are marine, I'm just glad they're on our side." The marine cladded in ODST gear said. The ODST stuck out his hand out for a shake.
"My name is Askerson, and you are?" he smiled waiting for an answer from her. "I'm Lance Corporal Church, Ren Church sir." She caught his hand and held it firmly. "Church huh? Why does that name sound so familiar?" he itched his head trying to dig out an answer to his own question.

"Oh well guess I'll never know, anyways wanna go in and watch?"
"Watch?" Ren asked.
"Yeah the Spartans are being set up with new MJOLNIR armor."

Askerson gestured for her to walk into the armory. When she didn't move he then casually shrugged his shoulders and walked into the armory and sat down on a bench. Ren decided to follow her new ODST friend and entered the armory as well. The armory opened up with rows and rows of rifles, pistols, grenades, SPNKr Launchers, shotguns and other weapons stocked up. Next to the weapon lockers was an open space full of seats that Askerson had sat down on. Beyond the benches were more olive drabbed crates carrying more weaponry for the Expeditionary force that the lockers couldn't hold. In front of the benches was a armor station that was created for the Spartans on board.
"Alright Spartan here is your new MJOLNIR armor a Mark VI F/S." A man in a lab coat that was way to big for him said. "Must be a spook" Askerson whispered to Ren. "Another ONI scientist up in a observatory overlooking the armory gave an okay sign with his fingers.
"All damn spooks must be germophobes or sumtin." Askerson said shivering in disgust of ONI personnel standards.

"Askerson, you do realize we can all hear you right?" the ONI scientist said with annoyance. Askerson shifted himself a bit to reassess his situation he put himself in. "I knew that" Askerson said crossing his arms in defiance. Ren laughed and tried to cover her smile. Another habit she had gained while living on Earth from her parents and their parents.

"Sierra-089 please connect yourself with the armor station please" the intercom crackled. 089 walked over to the station with the female Spartan. He grabbed the new Spartan helmet and connected the cord in the back of it. A lift raised him up and held him in place in mid air. Several mechanical arms came out and began removing pieces of armor and replacing them with new and better parts. This sight was astonishing to for Ren to behold. A Spartan being given his new armor right in front of me! She looked at her hands as she lifted them from her thighs, they were shaking extremely fast. Am I that stunned of this? She thought thinking of herself pathetic that she was getting all round up over a soldier getting armor.

"How does it feel Gary?" The female Spartan asked. So that's his name? Gary? I had an uncle Gary so weird thought Ren.
"A bit odd but it makes life a lot easier… ooh! than doing it ourselves" he said as the machine continued to use its arms as they rotated and twisted around the Spartan. After around 20 minutes the machine was nearly complete with the Spartan. "Wow this is a ride!" Gary exclaimed as the last part, a armor piece for his hand was placed on. The Spartan dropped down with his new armor and quickly tested it out by doing a few jabs and punches. "This fits like a glove! Hurry up Linnea and gets your armor set." Gary said as he walked over to the armory and grabbed a special battle rifle configuration out of the olive crates.

Linnea placed her helmet on and did the same motions that Gary did before the machine started up and began on her. "By the way Linnea the machine has been programmed to modify your armor's color after it is fully emplaced upon you. Linnea unable to communicate at the moment gave a thumbs up. Ren had been sitting in the armory the past 40 minutes doing nothing but living her fantasy. Although this was her off time on the Clairvoyance and she should be resting for tomorrow's big attack on the brutes, but she was too enthralled by the Spartans she didn't pay attention to what she should be doing.

The armory seemed to Ren like it was the only room on the ship that had its lights on; which was a little pet peeve of hers. When she was little her family always bothered her on turning the lights off. She still doesn't know why to this day but she inherited the trait from them. Her eyes were getting heavy, Gary noticing the young marine was about to pass out walked over to her, his
every step making her jolt up a little bit more every time as her eye lids shot up.

"Hey Linnea, I'll be right back, you get set up for the op I'm taking this one to the bunks so she can rest for tomorrow." Gary said as he walked out of the armory with Ren in his arms.

//1900 Inside the Drop pod bay, On board the UNSC Clairvoyance//

Captain Patterberg's voice rang echoing and just a little flat, throughout the drop-pod bay.

Gary and Linnea, the only people down in the bay, quickly readied themselves for the drop, burying anxieties with attentions to detail like placement of equipment, weapons, and other sundry gear within the cramped interior of the single occupant orbital insertion drop pods. Each piece of ordinance had its place as standard operating procedure for two reasons. Space within the ceramic ablative shells of the pods was at a premium and became cramped for the occupant very quickly. Nothing could be allowed loose for fear of damaging the people or equipment and because orbital insertion using the 'coffins' had to be balanced and carefully controlled all the way into atmosphere for fear of exposing a less protected area to the super-heated plasma air caused by the dropping pod. Fear of a pinhole in the ablative covering ceramics focused one's thoughts admirably. If it happened, it was the same as turning a plasma torch on yourself with no where to go or run. There are better ways to die, preferably in bed.

"Alright Spartans! As always, first in, last out! You will secure and hold the LZ. The Elites' team of spec ops will meet up with you for the later recon." Patterberg explained as the Spartans finished the securing of equipment. Each Spartan quickly climbed into their pods, securing straps over chests and around legs to keep from bouncing around inside the small area that was their only comfort from the insertion. Some intel weenie was said that when the chutes failed on drop, the pod doubled as a coffin for disposal, given the pod and occupant would wind up auguring into the ground at terminal velocity. Real confidence builder.

The pod doors closed length wise and the helmet of each Spartan compensated for the dark by imposing Patterberg's image inside their HUDs, right beside the vital signs of the other Spartan. The only concession to contact between the soldiers at this time.

"Intel believes there will be little to no action during this OP. Simple splash-n-dash." Patterberg continued. "To tell you two the truth this OP is beneath an ODST but I want to show you off to the Elites. They need to realize we can watch our own." Patterberg's image flickered slightly as the pods shuddered and slammed from side to side for a bit, lowering into the floor of the ships drop deck. Final preparation for drop, taking on a closed bottom shell of ceramic polymer to aid in the friction of re-entry through the planet's atmosphere. Many were the rude jokes about sliding on the ceramic cover in readiness for orbital insertion.

"Aye aye, sir! We'll strut our stuff," Gary realized as he said this, something felt wrong. He He glanced to the right of his HUD and called a subroutine to the fore. His pod harness had not automatically secured on the right side. He could and would move around during the drop. He forced one arm up carefully to the unconnected framebar that was loose. Carefully, because given the inherent strength of the suit's armature, he could tear the inside electronics out by the roots or even more of the securing harnesses and braces. The clamshell torso armor bulged too much by his raised arm for him to be able to pull the offending harness back down.

A tiny private communication window opened in the HUD to the right of the captain's image. The left window showed the captain distracted by a technician getting him to sign off on something, while the new comm window showed Lin's cramped face. "Gary, my telltales show your heart rate up and blood pressure rising. Everything okay?"

A disembodied voice came over the internal comms of both Spartans, "Drop in 10 ticks."
The captain looked up nonchalantly and sketched a lazy salute, turning off his comm to the Spartans.

Gary felt his composure torn. The drop clock... his partner... This.Damn.Harness.

Shudder! Slam! Bang!

That same voice, "Drop!"

The force of the pods being ejected down toward the slowly listing planet threw Gary against his harness. He twisted and hit his helmet forcefully against the low overhead. Gary decided the harness was a lost cause as he felt the freefall of space but he knew not for long.

"Gary, your vitals are worse. Report!" Lin composed herself from fluttering null-grav after such a violent drop from the ship.

Gary fought hard not to move. His earlier hitting of the overhead had done enough. He could see in his HUD the pods status. There was a bad listing to port and the angle was increasing. The pod did not carry enough propellant to correct this and keep balance during reentry. He watched the pods status as the outer pickups of his helmet registered the beginnings of sound. He began to feel his weight slowly returning and settling to the bottom of the pod. He was listing three degrees out of plane of attack for entry. The sound outside increased. It turned smoothly from a steady sigh to the sound of sand flowing around the shell.

The sound outside progressed to a roar and Gary knew he would be killed inside the pod as soon as the angle increased too much and strained the outer ablative layer. The top of the pod was unprotected armor, not to last long in the hellish fires outside. Gary bounced hard inside as the aerodynamics changed. Using his eye designator, he called up subroutines. He hacked the pods telltales and repeated a loop showing the pod is fine condition, a perfect virtual entry to the planet. Lin wasn't fooled.

"Gary!"

"Linnea, my straps failed and the pod is turning. I have to compensate or I'll never make it down in one piece. The Clair' doesn't need to know and scrub the whole mission. I can pull it out."

"What are you going to do?"

"When the angle is too great I'm going to blow the hatch and break through the weakened shell." A new twist of turbulence slammed the pod and the angle steepened.

"Gary, no! You won't survive the reentry plasma bloom, let alone the landing! What about the retro fire to slow decent before the 'chutes deploy?"
]
He ignored the question and watched the pods sensors. The real ones. The temperature outside increased and the shell thinned. The tilt of the pod caused the unprotected upper portion of the pod to enter the plasma bloom. The metal above his head began to glow cherry red, casting the interior lighting into a promised hell. He watched as the heat continued to climb. The interior light went from red to white. He slammed his hand down against the harness tearing at the equipment. The displays began to static out and fuzz as they failed but he saw that he had given the pod a slight spin around the long axis. The equipment and its connection to his HUD failed altogether. Instead he watched the light reflecting down on him.

The light took on a bluish tint and the sound outside began to rise till it drowned out even his own hammering heart.

Gary slammed out his elbow and his knee at the same time. A second blow from the mighty armor and the hatch door separated from its hinges. Ceramic splinters flew out to the sides of the edge as he smashed through the quickly eroding shell. He bent and kicked. He felt the umbilicals connected to the rear of his armor tear as the interior oxygen hook ups disconnected. His armor HUD reported that he was now on internal oxygen alone. That he hadn't planned on. That was all the air he would have until he reached the lower atmosphere.

The static built up by the plasma roaring around him drowned out any other communications from Linnea or the Clair'. They were now in complete comm blackout. He floated with the door in his right hands grip, the strength of the servos twisting the metal slightly. The way he floated free was surreal and his time sense seemed to leave him in limb.
He had been lucky, he emerged from the pod with door in hand with the pod directly between him and the dense and denser atmosphere of his entry below him. He snatched a harness strap free from its mooring and tied the door quickly to the outer jamb. Making sure the door was inverted, he used the removal of another strap to twist him up and over. The curve of the door was now resting in its original place only reversed, him cradled in the curve outside. He strapped the door down and held on to the dangling ends of both sides with each hand. He kept his chest to the curve and looked into his surroundings. All around him was the hell of fiery reds, whites and blues; licking out and around, reaching for him. His visor HUD was awash with warnings and telltales of impending doom. The light began to change and he could feel the body of the pod shuddering under heat it shouldn't have suffered, metal pattering against the underside of the door. He watched the flames and quelled the HUDs warnings with a blink.

So many ways to still buy it now, he thought. Heat could reach my oxygen tank at my back. The pod burns through to fast... I fail to open the backup chute.. terminal velocity...

SLAM! The pod was hit by increasing air pressure and shuddered ominously.

Heart attack, he finished the thought.

The pattering of melted metal hitting the underside of the door increased but he thought, wait... yes! The plasma is decreasing, I'm slowing! Hot damn!

He spared a quick glance over and a distance away he could see Linnea's Drop pod. The coffin was making a textbook re-entry.

He smiled, she was always the teacher's pet.

The outer plasma began to gutter and falter but the melting metal had eaten through. His HUD declared new warnings of damage to shields, his suit was losing power, oxygen, protection he hoped to use when he neared ground. He reared back a fist and plunged his fist through the doors softening metal. He groped blindly for a second.

Thank SOP!, he thought desperately. His hands closed on his pack and he rolled. His arm came up through the rapidly enlarging hole of the door. His shields at the arm were partially depleted and heat had already began to bubble the metal and the underlying gel layers of armor. He continued the roll and ended outside the pod and its heat and rapidly melting and cooling metal. Gary fell away from the pod and strengthened his armor toward his feet, raised his elbows in the heat and spun expertly. With shields at his feet strongest he plummeted through the atmosphere feet first.

Shield power dropping as quickly as the friction of the denser air. Finally his own personal plasma was gone but he had to extend the freefall to cause his armor to cool. He moved the pack to his back and strapped in. This time the straps all snugged properly and the pack was secure behind him between the shoulder paltrons. He watched the pod tumble beside him, now looking more like some abstract nightmare than his ride down. He knew he was moving too fast and he knew he could bever hope to deploy the chute in the pack in his hand and not rip it to shreds. What the opening of the material would do to his crotch did not bear mentioning.

The HUD altimeter spun crazily down and he delayed the opening. He knew he had to time this right. Time the opening to stall as much velocity as possible, reserve power for shields, or even try for a deeper area of the many lakes or ponds below that Intel had briefed them on. He already knew he was aimed for one of the bodies of water but the rest...

The altimeter continued to countdown frantically. The pod plunged ahead of him and hit the water deeper, he saw and took hope.

Gary counted, debated, hesitated, pulled and cursed to any power that would listen.

He snatched the cover on his release and the pack sprung open and the lead parachute deployed snatching the greater material out into the howling wind. The spider-silk of the shroud blossomed and the cryolines pulled taut with the sound of a dropped piano.
The material was designed to be as tough as possible. It faired better than the rest of his body. Honestly, its not the fall that kills you but the sudden stop. And this sudden stop just about castrated him despite layers of protection and armor. However, everything has its breaking point. Thankfully this time it was the harness connecting to armor rather than tortured flesh. The reminder of the pack stayed with him, as the parachute fluttered away. Freefall returned for one second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four seconds.

He slammed into the leading edge of a lake at over a hundred miles an hour. Water sprayed fifty feet into the air. HUD read oxygen at 35%, shields at 12%, power at 3%, though the organic instrument behind Gary's eyes provided the most damning information. He had plunged through water and into about 10 feet of sand and silt. His hands were pinned above his head and his helmet and finally succumbed to air pressure and lifted ever so slightly. Water was pouring in and his undies were getting wet. Well wetter than they were when that pod blew. With a awkwardly placed elbow he managed to get the visor down but his armor was half full and his oxygen was spent.

A sudden feeling of dread overwhelmed him. He was buried without his coffin, were the intel weenies going to be upset. He started to feel woozy and his eyesight already hindered by muddy water began to black out. A spark in his helmet woke him up again as a familiar voice rang over the com system.

"Gary! The Elites were already down here watching us come in. They are sending one of their soldiers in to get you out!" Linnea's voice shouted over the comm. Gary kept himself awake barely until something grabbed him by the back of his helmet and lifted. There was a terrible tearing sensation around his legs as the lake bottom refused to release him. Several seconds went by wondering which would give first and he shot up out of the water. Gary emerged from the five feet of water into the air and ended sliding on his back at the water's gravelly edge. He quickly removed his helmet to breathe fresh air. So close to drowning in just a few feet of water.

"Human, are you alright?" the Elite waded ashore as Gary inspected his helmet for any damage done during the fall. The Elite squatted down beside him and waited for an answer as Gary gained his composure again.

"I'm fine... and thanks for the help." said the rumpled Spartan. The Elite's face was covered in some special forces helmet very similar to a Spartan's.

"I only wish I could have been here sooner. The pod is still under out there about twenty feet from where you landed." The Elite reminded Gary as he pointed to the body of water. Gary grabbed what he brought up with him, a rucksack filled emptied of the parachute but still containing 200lbs of ammo and the battle rifle he had harnessed to his torso before getting in the little deathtrap of a pod. Coffin indeed, he mused, this story would get him a few drinks aboard the Clair'.
"My commanding officer in this sector is waiting for you around here with your spartan friend." The spec op said as he pointed into the forest. The night sky was almost invisible as green lush trees covered every inch of it. The forest was eerie, Gary was so used to the forests on Reach as a child that he forgot that forests don't come with engine sounds and make shift explosions 24/7.
The water began to dry while he and the spec op elite were walking to the others.
The elite was invisible using his camouflage to hide himself from any jackal snipers. Gary didn't have any fancy add-ons to his armor to do that, so every 5 seconds he would twitch his eyes to his motion sensor for any movement, something all spartans were trained to do. The forest almost seemed identical to those on Reach. Even some of the plants seemed the same. What he could remember before he was kidnapped was very vague and was almost like a dream to him now, he couldn't grab hold of it as it taunted him like mist. Gary stopped as his motion sensor marked 2 dots moving east. 089 put his hand up as his elite partner drew out his energy sword. The elite began to chant a whisper to himself as he waited for the Spartan's next move.

"You stay here spec op I'm checking out these two contacts." Gary said as he raised his BR55 and began to sneak up on his prey. "As you wish human." The elite responded.

Sneaking through foliage and ducking under dead lumber Gary was soon on top of his enemy, two skirmisher jackals, they had split up from their full pack and were menacingly hulked over eating a rotting corpse of some native animal. What was strange is that jackals and skirmishers were the same creature but something the covenant did to the skirmishers caused them to almost go primal similar to brutes. One skirmisher had almost all of his quills on the back of his head cut. Several times it would fidget with its hair like it was an itch on its back.
The other was to busy clawing the left overs of their kill to even pay attention to any sound. Gary decided to not kill them since their pack wasn't all together. If he were to snap these birdos' necks the others of the pack would find their bodies and alarm the brutes.

Gary went back to the elite to report his findings. "Well we've got two kigyar skirmishers fighting over food and what not." Gary said. The elite eased himself down as his sword slowly turned off.
"Reclaimer I suggest we continue on to the group." This time the elite took the point and walked around a ridge that he must he had went previously. Gary wondered why the elite didn't just lead him there in the first place. Almost like the elite was testing the spartan. Could this mission just be a huge test for us Spartans? Gary thought as he followed the spec ops elite to a tree almost three times the size of a redwood that seemed almost hollow. The elite turned his sword on and roared a guttural sound.

Several other swords simmered on as the spec ops elite team turned off their invisibility. Linnea came out of a hollow about 50 feet up holding on to the tree for balance. Gary knew she was smiling at him, it was just instinct after fighting along side her for the past 16 years. Knowing he was with her, he knew they could show to these elites that Spartans are what the stories say they are, legendary.

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