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Halo 2: Revenge of a Spartan, Chapter 8
Posted By: LostRock<shadow@macfleet.com>
Date: 1 August 2003, 2:56 AM
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I'll be genuinely surprised if anyone remembers this series. I have not updated since May for many reasons, most just having to do with being lazy or busy. Anyway, I thought I'd update again before I fall too far behind in your memories; I'm going on vacation for a few weeks.
1638 Hours, September 13, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Dropship Delta Echo, Atlantic Ocean, approximately 34 km away from Manhattan
John sat quietly by the exit of the Pelican, checking that his SMGs were fully loaded and he had a sufficient amount of grenades in his armor's pouch. Something was different about the usual dreary atmosphere of the dropship.
The cause of the change was sitting right next to the Master Chief: a trio of green-armored Grunts, clutching needlers and plasma pistols. They spoke in soft barks and squeaks to each other, sometimes glancing over at the Marines sitting across from them.
The humans stared silently back at the little creatures. They each had separate opinions about the new life forms aboard their vehicle: a few men had suspicious faces, not breaking their stares from the aliens. A couple of men were grinning, glad to have some new allies. One Marine had a haggard expression, weary from so much battle, viewing the Grunts as merely new soldiers. The pilot of the Pelican had been gracious enough to keep the drop door open so that the dropship's passengers could have a view of where they were. The soldiers looked out onto the seemingly endless water, until something new came into view.
There were a few audible gasps from the Marines, and one muttered "God in heaven," as they stared at a large pile of debris, made up of concrete and steel beams. They saw a pair of sandaled feet and what once was a robe. There was no mistaking it: lying before them was what remained of the Statue of Liberty.
"Bastards," Cortana noted quietly as the Pelican pulled away.
The soldiers had seen nothing yet, however. As the dropship flew over the metropolis of New York City, they saw smoke slowly rising from shattered buildings; very few were relatively intact. Throughout the entire circuit of the streets, there destroyed civilian vehicles, and flashes of plasma and bullets alike lit up the dark avenues. It was fairly quiet, except for the distant thump of explosives and cackle of automatic fire.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the Pelican pilot in a mock-formal tone, "the plane is preparing to land. Please make sure all trays are in their upright position and that all portable electronic devices are turned off."
His SMGs in their holsters and his battle rifle sitting in his lap, John prepared to disembark. He looked out on the terrain before him: the base of operations for the Marines was none other than the World Trade Center memorial park. Yelling Marines and Grunts and moaning from the hospital tents interrupted the normally calm atmosphere. The bullet holes and stains of blood (in several colors) were unsettling as well.
A female sergeant greeted the new dropship.
"Sergeant Molly Tucker reporting, sir," she said to John. "Follow me, please."
As the Chief walked through the human-Grunt camp, he was pleased to see that the two species were already getting along well. He saw outside one tent that a pair of Marines were teaching a couple of Grunts how to play poker. John also saw a few aliens doing the same, teaching the humans some sort of game revolving around levitating marbles.
The VALHALLA-clad Spartan then found himself in a command tent. It was empty except for a large table with a few types of maps on top of it: one of the subway routes, one of the streets, and the biggest was a large hologram of the entire city.
"Here's what's up," said the sergeant.
"New York City has become a major rally point for the Covenant. They've weakened so much over these last few days, and now their numbers are small and far apart, except here. There was an enormous armada of dropships that arrived 12 hours ago, and they've set up camp at the tallest still-standing building."
It dawned quickly on the Master Chief, but Cortana spoke up first.
"The Empire State Building."
"Correct." Tucker seemed unfazed by this new voice coming from the armor; perhaps she had already been filled in on Cortana's presence in John's suit.
"That's not the bad part, however. According to intel, the Covenant have an explosive device equivalent to that of a nuke. It's on the top floor of the building, no less. The Covenant are threatening to turn New York City into a nuclear wasteland."
"Why not just pull back all of our forces and bomb the building?" queried John.
"The bomb is supersensitive, it will go off if there is any heat higher than 400 degrees Fahrenheit that comes in contact with it. Besides, the Covenant have their eyes on us right now. Any sign of us bringing out Longswords and they do a kamikaze."
John sighed heavily. "So, it's all or nothing, huh? What is my mission?"
"You are to guide a group of Grunt technicians through this subway here" -she pointed to the map—"and bring them safely up to the top floor of the Empire State Building, so that they may disarm the bomb."
It was to be a legendary task: there would be a hundred or so floors with about a thousand rooms, filled to the brim with Covenant.
"Understood," replied the Chief.
A half-hour later, John, three squads of Marines and a platoon of Grunts trudged warily past the base's defensive line. They were now on their way to what the Marines had decided to nickname "Satan's Tower."
As they marched parade-style down a seemingly quiet avenue, the Covenant showed up. A squad of Jackals, two Brutes and a pair of Creeps, which were assault carriers.
The Grunt-human force had been ready. They fired a duo of rockets at the Creeps, destroying them. The Marines and Grunts then rushed forward to face their mutual enemy.
TO BE CONTINUED
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