Categories > Games > Halo > Fate Twister Original
Chapter 16 Flash of the Blade
Collins ran quickly, frantically searching for the man D'rok had spoken of. It was not long, all but a few brief moments; Collins stopped in his tracks.
"What the hell are you doing here Trooper?" the Dark, firm faced man asked; this man Collins recognized as Sgt. John Forge, his CO during this current operation.
"Sir? I was told to come and save you!" Collins replied with a stammer.
"How do you suppose I do that! There is only one way to do this!"
"Well…" Collins started as he removed his helmet. Collins cracked a smile as he set the bag by his side. Setting his helmet down he unzipped the bag to show Forge the contents "I say improvising" The sight of the IEDs caused Forge's eyes to light up a bit.
"alright you crazy son of a bitch, let's get to work."
~~
D'rok stood firm, his eyes only rest half open, panting in his adrenalized state.
"I find it amusing; a worthless heretic in stance with two of my finest warriors" the Field Marshal taunted D'rok darkly "I hope you are ready to face your end" D'rok gave the Field Marshal no satisfaction with a reaction to his taught.
With a loud whistling clock of his mandibles, the Field Marshall signaled the pair of Zealots to act; both laughing coldly as they slowly stalked forward.
Oh-ho I love games! D'rok's mind stated devilishly as he watched the two zealots fan to either side. Soon, time had seemed to slow, the Zealots were almost on each side of D'rok. D'rok was only unsure for a moment, until a distinct Mandible click shattered the damp, heavy air to his right.
D'rok's slited pupils constricted as he turned quickly only to dodge to the side as an Energy sword swung in a downward slash, barley missing him. D'rok glanced behind for a split second, raising his sword in order to halt an attack from the other Zealot; the blades struck hard, the colliding edges emitted a sharp crack and an electrical flash.
Hearing a soft growl behind him, D'rok shoved his sword forward; causing the Zealot whose sword remained clashed to stumble back. D'rok turned on his heel as once again, an energy sword grazed behind him. This time however, using his quick reaction time and strength within his free arm, he tightly grabbed the Zealot's arm with a vise tight grip. Using his right armored elbow, D'rok hit the Zealot in the face several times.
D'rok had managed to hit the Zealot's face a good five or so times before the other had recovered. D'rok released the held Zealot, leaving him to stumble about in a stupor. The other Zealot advanced several steps at D'rok in a full horizontal swing. D'rok rolled to his right, evading the swing.
D'rok quickly recovered, the Zealot swung once more, and D'rok took a step backwards to counter that. The two repeated this several times. After around seven times, as his hoof pressed against the hard surface of the platform; D'rok used the impact of his hoof to build up strength within his legs. He watched the Zealot's sword come upwards swiftly. The tip of the dual blades passed but only half an inch from D'rok's unflinching face. Once it had passed, D'rok used the coiled energy his legs had stored to dive into the Zealot's midsection. He drove his shoulder into the Zealot's abdomen, wrapping his left arm around the Sangheili's back; D'rok forced the Zealot to the floor.
D'rok quickly positioned himself to hold the Zealot's sword hand against the floor and raised his sword for the kill. The pinned Zealot gave a short scream which was silenced as D'rok plunged his sword into his upper chest area. It was not long before the sword stopped; it stopped as it dug into the metallic floor; completely through the Zealot's burning flesh. D'rok's slight evil grin was the last thing that Zealot would ever see.
D'rok was kicked in the side by the remaining Zealot; he fell over onto his back and before he could react, the Zealot pressed his hoof into D'rok chest plate, holding him down. Within an instant, the Zealot raised his sword and soon after drove it down at D'rok. Watching the elegant weapon in near slow-motion, D'rok had but a fraction of a second to react.
D'rok griped the Zealot's hoof and twisted it quickly. The Zealot gave a surprised yelp in attempts to keep his swing strait. His aim had been compromised; the sword struck, sticking itself into the surface metal, an inch to the right of D'rok's head.
D'rok, being now hands free, was able to lay a punch on the panicking Zealot. As result of the Recoil from the blow, and in a desperate attempt to get away; the Zealot let go of his hindered weapon and sat back. D'rok did not let the Zealot have a moment, in a second, D'rok rolled to his hooves and dove on the still sitting Zealot. The Zealot growled as the two rolled back from the momentum of D'rok's Weight. This was the start of a violent brawl.
~~
Meanwhile; Collins and Forge had just finished rigging the makeshift bomb with the C10 IEDs and where in process of exiting the giant door.
"what the hell!" Forge asked, confused as he pointed at the two fighting Elites. Collins had not had the chance to inform Forge of everything.
"That… is our protection at work" Collins explained simply, only to get a still confused look "I'll explain later, just don't shoot the SpecOp!"
"so... don't?"
"No time to explain, take this!" Collins tossed his M45 to Forge as he spotted a single golden armed Elite followed by a pair of hunters trotting up the platform.
"well, let's go raise some hell trooper!" Forge commanded as they both broke into a run towards the fight.
~~
D'rok continued to grapple with the Zealot, both Sangheili fought hard, matching each other in a rolling grapple of growls and snarls. Finally D'rok found a small opportunity; wrapping his left arm around the Zealot's neck, doing this caused the fight to slow almost to a crawling pace. The Zealot gave a loud hiss of anger as he struggled. To compensate for the Zealots evasive thrashing, D'rok wrapped his legs around the Zealots abdomen. Still holding his left arm around the Zealot's neck, D'rok placed his free hand on the Zealot's face. With a tight grip, D'rok started to pull the Zealot's head; turning it in ways it meant not to be. The Zealot screamed as he frantically clawed at D'rok's arm. Further and further he pulled the Zealot's head, stretching and bending his neck. With a loud snap, the Zealot was silenced; limp from the severing of his head and spinal column.
D'rok stood, leaving his kill; Collins and Forge had not yet reached him, but they were close. D'rok too saw the three advancing Covenant, their distance was decreasing quickly. D'rok picked up the closest weapon he could, which happened to be a Plasma Rifle.
Without a second after to really react, D'rok dodged to the side as a projectile from an ever convenient Concussion Rifle slammed into the surface near his previous place. Sliding on his hooves, D'rok took cover behind one of the metallic panels alongside the platform. Glancing back D'rok could see Collins and Forge had followed suite.
D'rok knew that between the Field Marshall and Ship Master and the pair of hunters, it would be better for humans to fight the Sangheilies; the Hunters were too far behind the Elites.
"this isn't good" Collins muttered softly, kneeling behind the edge of his cover. Collins felt Forge grab his arm.
"ears up, Trooper! You hear that?" Forge asked loudly as the faint growing sound of an aircraft approached.
D'rok heard it as well, resulting in him looking back towards the sound. In the distance D'rok could make out a pair of Type 21 TC Spirits approaching the Apex.
"you can come out now, Heretic… your deaths will be swift" the Field Marshall suggested, seeing the Troop Carrier as well.
D'rok shook his head; they were running out of time and options quickly. Glancing at the two humans, he received the same 'what now?' face that he wore himself. D'rok waved a vertical strait hand in attempts to tell them to wait. The three stood still, watching the still closer Spirits.
The pair split from one another, one slowing down to allow the other to lead. Out of seemingly nowhere, as the lead Spirit began to lower to the platform, a missile slammed into its right wing. The explosion shook the Spirit; the Ship Master turned, followed by the Marshall, as the craft jerked, buckling as its inner systems began to fail. The Spirit's gravitational drives flickered and failed as they burned; the massive tonnage of the craft collapsed, crushing the pair of Hunters with its crushing weight.
The Ship Master dove forward from the Spirit as it, driven from its momentum, scraped several meters before coming to a sparking halt. The Field Marshall stumbled on his hooves as the platform shook violently as the craft collapsed. Almost instantly, the platform began to tilt from the weight of the craft, tilting several degrees. This caused the two humans and D'rok to become pressed against their cover. The Field Marshall was fortunate enough to grab a panel to hold himself to the platform, unlick his comrade; who was left in danger.
The Ship Master slid back towards the burning craft as the Apex continued to tilt further to an almost easy 35° incline. The Field Marshall watched as his fellow Sangheili slid into the fire. With a loud building screech of air, the Spirit exploded, causing strain of the platform's metal. With a violent jerk and a creaking of bending metal, the section of the platform, including the Teleporter up as well as several meters of additional space, bent to a point, then snapped off from the rest.
D'rok clung tightly as the Apex rocked, tilting in the other direction. Collins had about fallen on his face; he glanced back quickly to see the other Spirit lowering down to the other end near the large door as the platform began to level itself.
"Sargent! Heads up!" Collins set the bag down and pulled a flare from his utility belt. Turning the top, Collins ignited the flare and tossed it aside as it began to belch out green smoke. Collins reloaded his MA37 and pressed himself against the panel facing the other direction.
The platform had stopped tilting; only a slight shaking remained. The Field Marshall made sure his footing was secure and turned back to face his opponents. He was met by an armored fist to the face. The Field Marshall stumbled back in a stupor; in his moments of pause, D'rok had begun to charge at the instant that the platform was level.
The Field Marshall recoiled from the strike; turning on his right heel, using the transferred momentum to rotate around. Once facing back, the Field Marshall attempted to raise his Concussion Rifle. In the second he had, the Field Marshall was unable to get his finger to the trigger before D'rok slammed his hand down on the top of the weapon. With the weapon physically suppressed, D'rok struck once again, resulting in an almost inaudible crack of a snapping pair of mandibles.
The Field Marshall let go of the Concussion Rifle, his hands immediately flew to his face, in attempts to comfort his broken jaws. D'rok released the large red firearm, letting it to fall the apex surface, and proceeded to start dealing quick blows to the Field Marshall's lightly armored abdomen.
The Field Marshall was unable to successfully stumble in D'rok's fury of strikes. Eventually the Field Marshall, unable to stand the blows, fell back into his back.
He was hurting, his oath to the covenant was still unbroken; he would not let a Heretic prevail. With a strong force of determination; the Field Marshall rolled backwards in his fall to his to his feet. With a snarl he stood as he gripped his Energy Sword.
D'rok widened his stance, raising his fists at the sight of the new tool. sliding his left hoof out a foot D'rok readied himself
With a slight grin and a snarl, the Field Marshall charged forward. D'rok only hit the Sangheili's arm, redirecting it's swing away from D'rok. Thrown off by this, the Field Marshall turned his head back only to be once again met with an iron fist. The Marshall was beginning to feel enraged, frantically swinging as quick as he could.
D'rok remained untouched after many swings and lunges made by the Field Marshall. The Marshall roared in vain at D'rok, enraged at his misfortunate failure of killing his opponent. D'rok, in a taunting manner, simply bent his primary index finger as if to say 'come at me, bro'.
Enraged to the point of near insanity; the Field Marshall gave a growl of distaste. He then violently charged at D'rok in full swing. Finally, to the Marshall's joy: D'rok fell to his back. However, in an approach to finish the kill, the Marshall leaned forward to end the fight; D'rok kicked him in the face instead.
With a slight roll of his eyes, the Field Marshall collapsed backwards, dropping his sword in the process. D'rok wasted no time to get on the downed Marshall and begin to deal yet more blows.
~~
Meanwhile, the two Humans were busy; holding off several dozen SpecOp Sangheili. Collins slapped one of his last remaining magazines into his MA37 just as Forge blasted an unfortunately close Elite in the chest with the M45.
"We won't be getting out of this easy, Trooper!" Forge shouted.
"Agreed! I'm on last Mag!" Collins about screamed.
"Damn it! Get back you Bastard!" Forge yelled, slam firing the M45 into a nearby crowd of Elites.
Forge himself was low on ammunition; he only had about 14 shells left with four loaded. Collins was out for MA37, his last magazine would not last long, and the only other available options would be a few clips for his M6D. D'rok of course was busy with his own fight.
The two Humans pressed themselves against their cover; they would most likely be unable to survive to kill all of the still remaining SpecOps. To their delights, the faint hum of a Human Craft appeared and began to get closer. The remaining Spirit, who was already in the process of leaving, turned suddenly to hightail itself out of the area.
A familiar Triangular winged craft, a UNSC Longsword, Slowed to a near hovering halt alongside the Apex. The craft rotated, turning its front side at the platform. The majority of the SpecOps were unable to get into cover as the Longsword's Rotary guns spun, emitting a quickly build scream of a wail. The Platform seemed to shake as the two Humans experienced the pressure of a thousand pounding percussions as the Longsword unleashed a rain of Heavy anti-aircraft Uranium depleted shells, capable of taking down a small group of Phantoms itself, over and crossing the platform. Anything in its way was quickly no more, the only direct survivors would be a pair of SpecOps who, in vain and threat of being killed in dishonor, had jumped off the Apex to the depths below and a small team who was near the large door.
The Longsword's glowing red rotary barrels ceased spitting out rounds and began to loudly whine down as it rotated it's self around, facing away from the Platform, with its boarding ramp lowered.
"Come on! Ride is here!" Collins screamed at D'rok who remained several meters away.
Hearing Collins, D'rok laid one last punch to the bleeding Field Marshall, and then stood. Turning quickly, D'rok broke into a run towards the Longsword, leaving the Marshall. Collins was behind Forge, who was first up the ramp. Collins, just before stepping onto the ramp, had removed his side arm and dropped his MA37. D'rok gestured for Collins to go on, and then followed. Even as D'rok's first hoof touched the ramp the Longsword began to move as it's thrusters started to begun hot once again.
Unfortunately for the three, the Longsword buckled hard as a volley of Fuel Rods slammed into the wing of the Craft. Collins, who was halfway up the ramp, was thrown into the wall unpleasantly. D'rok fell forward, his face slammed against the steel ramp.
D'rok began to slide back as the Longsword shifted, moving over the platform as it struggled to regain stability. D'rok slid down the ramp only to get a grip as his legs dangled. His body fell from the ramp, only his tight grip on the edge of the ramp stopped D'rok from falling down onto the hostile platform.
D'rok groaned with a slight cringe as both of his hands gripped the sharp edge of the ramp. D'rok struggled with his grip and weight as the Longsword was finally beginning to stabilize.
Back on the platform remained a very determined and still very alive Field Marshall; who stood with broken shields. To his luck, he saw an opportunity to stop the Heretic. It caused him to grip.
In his moment of pulling himself back up, D'rok was violently pulled back down as someone latched onto him. His fingers dug into the metal edge more than before painfully. D'rok looked down to see a very pleased Field Marshall hanging from him.
"Human!" D'rok shouted in a panicked manner.
D'rok looked down once again at the Marshall, only to be stuck in the face. With his adversary dazed, the Field Marshall pulled himself onto the ramp.
"your fight ends here…" the Field Marshall's blood covered face grinned as he stood over D'rok "for whatever it was worth, I hope you enjoy your fall." With that, the Marshall began to press his hoof into D'rok's hand.
This caused D'rok to scream, in both pain and fear of falling; it was not the death he wished upon himself or anyone else for that matter.
"turn around you dumb son of a bitch!" Collins' voice pierced the Marshall's ears, causing his eyes to grow widely in distaste.
"what did you just call me, parasite?"
Collins sat, back firm as his finger rested softly and he stared down the sights of his M6D's iron sights. "I said 'turn around' split lip" Collins spoke in hatred through a gleaming smile "eat shit and die"
Collins pulled the trigger, sending an explosive tipped bullet into the Marshall's chest. This was followed by five more bullets, each slamming into the Field Marshall. With a loud growl, which turned quickly to a building wail, the Field Marshall stumbled backwards, having nothing solid under him, he fell from the ramp, passed D'rok and into the misty abyss below.
D'rok spent a moment looking down to where the Sangheili fell, hanging by a single hand. With a slow exhale D'rok put his other hand firmly onto the metal edge and pulled himself up.
"are you alright?" Collins, now standing close to the edge, asked hesitantly.
"do not worry about my health human! We must get out of this world!"
"Right, Come on!" Collins agreed as D'rok rushed passed him.
"Chasey, we need to leave now!" D'rok shouted as he barged into the cockpit.
Chasey slammed the thrusters to their limit, the ship shook as its engines blared with the sounding of a train. D'rok and Forge stumbled into the wall as the Longsword gained momentum quickly. It was only seconds before it had slammed its way through the sound barrier.
Forge, getting a nudge from D'rok, un-holstered the Detonator from his side. He quickly flicked the cap from the trigger and pressed it. Several moments later, the Longsword began to shake softly.
"guys… I got a large radiation build behind us… what the hell did you guys do!" Chasey asked.
"all part of the plan, just don't turn around" Forge explained.
"I think it worked, Sarge…" Collins announced softly as he looked out the window.
"do you see that opening in the distance, Female?" D'rok pointed as he stood behind her chair.
"that is our exit"
Everyone shook themselves a bit as the Longsword banked deeply into the oddly angled channel through the massive shell of a planet. D'rok stood in front of the side window, watching the forerunner lights and panels pass by. He closed his eyes clearing his mind, putting his arm behind his back for some reason.
It was over; he knew that. A slight smile formed between D'rok's mandibles. He had remembered, and to him that felt amazing.
"how did you know where I was?" A curious Forge asked D'rok, standing close by.
"I guess I had a certain… hunch as you Humans would say" D'rok answered with a pause as he looked over at Forge. "I never forget those I have met prior in my life."
"We've met before?" Forge asked, tilting his head.
"do not let the scar fool your memory, we have." D'rok turned his head further, making his barley healed over scar visible.
"you…" Forge started, looking into D'rok's green eyes. "Shit" Forge muttered in realization, scratching his head "your name was… Don?"
"thank you for remembering, Human. Please call me D'rok." D'rok grinned, letting his forgotten name sink into his mind.
"you've changed…"
"five years is a long and hard trek for anyone, Human."
"thanks, I guess"
"Do not thank me, I am returning the favor of not harming further than you had in our previous confrontation."
The two stopped their conversation and looked back out the window as the Longsword exited the tunnel and quickly out of the atmosphere. Soon the craft was surrounded by space.
"look!" Collins alerted everyone, pointing out the window "the Spirit of Fire!"
At that moment, in the same manner as D'rok remembered; the large UNSC ship barreled out of the tunnel and out into the darkness.
"Female, I suggest you steer clear of this world. Make haste!" D'rok shouted even as the Longsword had been leaving the area.
The explosion of the planet shook the craft; everyone was eventually blinded by its illumination. Once Chasey regained a grip of the Longsword, she found that it was no longer being controlled, but drifting instead. Drifting away from the planet, from the ship, from hope.
"Jeff!" Chasey called for him as she got out of her seat.
"What?" he answered, considered as she began to approach him. "are you o-" he was cut off as she took hold of his cheek and delivered to him a soft kiss.
Collins was left confused.
"don't say anything trooper, just kiss" Forge coached him with a smirk.
By then D'rok was standing by the controls, his eyes searching across the numerous buttons and switches. One of them began to flash; a bright blue one. Soon a communication channel was opened.
"this is ONI AI Soren piloting the UNSC Audience of One. Is there anyone who survived that?" spoke a voice familiar to D'rok.
"Soren, this is Don; your captain. Keep this a secure connection." D'rok answered quickly.
"that has already been underway. This channel is secure."
"ok good" D'rok rubbed his mandibles. "I, along with three Humans are drifting in a mid-sized Human craft. Could you lend a hand?"
"that's you in the Longsword? And to answer your question; yes"
"please do"
"understood"
After the short conversation, D'rok stood watching out the front of the Longsword. The space ahead seemed to ripple, then began to break away into a growing plane of hexagons. Soon a familiar ship floated nearby.
Arms extended from the opened hangar out to the Longsword. The clamps gripped the craft and began to pull the Longsword into the Hangar, to the closest safe place possible.
Collins ran quickly, frantically searching for the man D'rok had spoken of. It was not long, all but a few brief moments; Collins stopped in his tracks.
"What the hell are you doing here Trooper?" the Dark, firm faced man asked; this man Collins recognized as Sgt. John Forge, his CO during this current operation.
"Sir? I was told to come and save you!" Collins replied with a stammer.
"How do you suppose I do that! There is only one way to do this!"
"Well…" Collins started as he removed his helmet. Collins cracked a smile as he set the bag by his side. Setting his helmet down he unzipped the bag to show Forge the contents "I say improvising" The sight of the IEDs caused Forge's eyes to light up a bit.
"alright you crazy son of a bitch, let's get to work."
~~
D'rok stood firm, his eyes only rest half open, panting in his adrenalized state.
"I find it amusing; a worthless heretic in stance with two of my finest warriors" the Field Marshal taunted D'rok darkly "I hope you are ready to face your end" D'rok gave the Field Marshal no satisfaction with a reaction to his taught.
With a loud whistling clock of his mandibles, the Field Marshall signaled the pair of Zealots to act; both laughing coldly as they slowly stalked forward.
Oh-ho I love games! D'rok's mind stated devilishly as he watched the two zealots fan to either side. Soon, time had seemed to slow, the Zealots were almost on each side of D'rok. D'rok was only unsure for a moment, until a distinct Mandible click shattered the damp, heavy air to his right.
D'rok's slited pupils constricted as he turned quickly only to dodge to the side as an Energy sword swung in a downward slash, barley missing him. D'rok glanced behind for a split second, raising his sword in order to halt an attack from the other Zealot; the blades struck hard, the colliding edges emitted a sharp crack and an electrical flash.
Hearing a soft growl behind him, D'rok shoved his sword forward; causing the Zealot whose sword remained clashed to stumble back. D'rok turned on his heel as once again, an energy sword grazed behind him. This time however, using his quick reaction time and strength within his free arm, he tightly grabbed the Zealot's arm with a vise tight grip. Using his right armored elbow, D'rok hit the Zealot in the face several times.
D'rok had managed to hit the Zealot's face a good five or so times before the other had recovered. D'rok released the held Zealot, leaving him to stumble about in a stupor. The other Zealot advanced several steps at D'rok in a full horizontal swing. D'rok rolled to his right, evading the swing.
D'rok quickly recovered, the Zealot swung once more, and D'rok took a step backwards to counter that. The two repeated this several times. After around seven times, as his hoof pressed against the hard surface of the platform; D'rok used the impact of his hoof to build up strength within his legs. He watched the Zealot's sword come upwards swiftly. The tip of the dual blades passed but only half an inch from D'rok's unflinching face. Once it had passed, D'rok used the coiled energy his legs had stored to dive into the Zealot's midsection. He drove his shoulder into the Zealot's abdomen, wrapping his left arm around the Sangheili's back; D'rok forced the Zealot to the floor.
D'rok quickly positioned himself to hold the Zealot's sword hand against the floor and raised his sword for the kill. The pinned Zealot gave a short scream which was silenced as D'rok plunged his sword into his upper chest area. It was not long before the sword stopped; it stopped as it dug into the metallic floor; completely through the Zealot's burning flesh. D'rok's slight evil grin was the last thing that Zealot would ever see.
D'rok was kicked in the side by the remaining Zealot; he fell over onto his back and before he could react, the Zealot pressed his hoof into D'rok chest plate, holding him down. Within an instant, the Zealot raised his sword and soon after drove it down at D'rok. Watching the elegant weapon in near slow-motion, D'rok had but a fraction of a second to react.
D'rok griped the Zealot's hoof and twisted it quickly. The Zealot gave a surprised yelp in attempts to keep his swing strait. His aim had been compromised; the sword struck, sticking itself into the surface metal, an inch to the right of D'rok's head.
D'rok, being now hands free, was able to lay a punch on the panicking Zealot. As result of the Recoil from the blow, and in a desperate attempt to get away; the Zealot let go of his hindered weapon and sat back. D'rok did not let the Zealot have a moment, in a second, D'rok rolled to his hooves and dove on the still sitting Zealot. The Zealot growled as the two rolled back from the momentum of D'rok's Weight. This was the start of a violent brawl.
~~
Meanwhile; Collins and Forge had just finished rigging the makeshift bomb with the C10 IEDs and where in process of exiting the giant door.
"what the hell!" Forge asked, confused as he pointed at the two fighting Elites. Collins had not had the chance to inform Forge of everything.
"That… is our protection at work" Collins explained simply, only to get a still confused look "I'll explain later, just don't shoot the SpecOp!"
"so... don't?"
"No time to explain, take this!" Collins tossed his M45 to Forge as he spotted a single golden armed Elite followed by a pair of hunters trotting up the platform.
"well, let's go raise some hell trooper!" Forge commanded as they both broke into a run towards the fight.
~~
D'rok continued to grapple with the Zealot, both Sangheili fought hard, matching each other in a rolling grapple of growls and snarls. Finally D'rok found a small opportunity; wrapping his left arm around the Zealot's neck, doing this caused the fight to slow almost to a crawling pace. The Zealot gave a loud hiss of anger as he struggled. To compensate for the Zealots evasive thrashing, D'rok wrapped his legs around the Zealots abdomen. Still holding his left arm around the Zealot's neck, D'rok placed his free hand on the Zealot's face. With a tight grip, D'rok started to pull the Zealot's head; turning it in ways it meant not to be. The Zealot screamed as he frantically clawed at D'rok's arm. Further and further he pulled the Zealot's head, stretching and bending his neck. With a loud snap, the Zealot was silenced; limp from the severing of his head and spinal column.
D'rok stood, leaving his kill; Collins and Forge had not yet reached him, but they were close. D'rok too saw the three advancing Covenant, their distance was decreasing quickly. D'rok picked up the closest weapon he could, which happened to be a Plasma Rifle.
Without a second after to really react, D'rok dodged to the side as a projectile from an ever convenient Concussion Rifle slammed into the surface near his previous place. Sliding on his hooves, D'rok took cover behind one of the metallic panels alongside the platform. Glancing back D'rok could see Collins and Forge had followed suite.
D'rok knew that between the Field Marshall and Ship Master and the pair of hunters, it would be better for humans to fight the Sangheilies; the Hunters were too far behind the Elites.
"this isn't good" Collins muttered softly, kneeling behind the edge of his cover. Collins felt Forge grab his arm.
"ears up, Trooper! You hear that?" Forge asked loudly as the faint growing sound of an aircraft approached.
D'rok heard it as well, resulting in him looking back towards the sound. In the distance D'rok could make out a pair of Type 21 TC Spirits approaching the Apex.
"you can come out now, Heretic… your deaths will be swift" the Field Marshall suggested, seeing the Troop Carrier as well.
D'rok shook his head; they were running out of time and options quickly. Glancing at the two humans, he received the same 'what now?' face that he wore himself. D'rok waved a vertical strait hand in attempts to tell them to wait. The three stood still, watching the still closer Spirits.
The pair split from one another, one slowing down to allow the other to lead. Out of seemingly nowhere, as the lead Spirit began to lower to the platform, a missile slammed into its right wing. The explosion shook the Spirit; the Ship Master turned, followed by the Marshall, as the craft jerked, buckling as its inner systems began to fail. The Spirit's gravitational drives flickered and failed as they burned; the massive tonnage of the craft collapsed, crushing the pair of Hunters with its crushing weight.
The Ship Master dove forward from the Spirit as it, driven from its momentum, scraped several meters before coming to a sparking halt. The Field Marshall stumbled on his hooves as the platform shook violently as the craft collapsed. Almost instantly, the platform began to tilt from the weight of the craft, tilting several degrees. This caused the two humans and D'rok to become pressed against their cover. The Field Marshall was fortunate enough to grab a panel to hold himself to the platform, unlick his comrade; who was left in danger.
The Ship Master slid back towards the burning craft as the Apex continued to tilt further to an almost easy 35° incline. The Field Marshall watched as his fellow Sangheili slid into the fire. With a loud building screech of air, the Spirit exploded, causing strain of the platform's metal. With a violent jerk and a creaking of bending metal, the section of the platform, including the Teleporter up as well as several meters of additional space, bent to a point, then snapped off from the rest.
D'rok clung tightly as the Apex rocked, tilting in the other direction. Collins had about fallen on his face; he glanced back quickly to see the other Spirit lowering down to the other end near the large door as the platform began to level itself.
"Sargent! Heads up!" Collins set the bag down and pulled a flare from his utility belt. Turning the top, Collins ignited the flare and tossed it aside as it began to belch out green smoke. Collins reloaded his MA37 and pressed himself against the panel facing the other direction.
The platform had stopped tilting; only a slight shaking remained. The Field Marshall made sure his footing was secure and turned back to face his opponents. He was met by an armored fist to the face. The Field Marshall stumbled back in a stupor; in his moments of pause, D'rok had begun to charge at the instant that the platform was level.
The Field Marshall recoiled from the strike; turning on his right heel, using the transferred momentum to rotate around. Once facing back, the Field Marshall attempted to raise his Concussion Rifle. In the second he had, the Field Marshall was unable to get his finger to the trigger before D'rok slammed his hand down on the top of the weapon. With the weapon physically suppressed, D'rok struck once again, resulting in an almost inaudible crack of a snapping pair of mandibles.
The Field Marshall let go of the Concussion Rifle, his hands immediately flew to his face, in attempts to comfort his broken jaws. D'rok released the large red firearm, letting it to fall the apex surface, and proceeded to start dealing quick blows to the Field Marshall's lightly armored abdomen.
The Field Marshall was unable to successfully stumble in D'rok's fury of strikes. Eventually the Field Marshall, unable to stand the blows, fell back into his back.
He was hurting, his oath to the covenant was still unbroken; he would not let a Heretic prevail. With a strong force of determination; the Field Marshall rolled backwards in his fall to his to his feet. With a snarl he stood as he gripped his Energy Sword.
D'rok widened his stance, raising his fists at the sight of the new tool. sliding his left hoof out a foot D'rok readied himself
With a slight grin and a snarl, the Field Marshall charged forward. D'rok only hit the Sangheili's arm, redirecting it's swing away from D'rok. Thrown off by this, the Field Marshall turned his head back only to be once again met with an iron fist. The Marshall was beginning to feel enraged, frantically swinging as quick as he could.
D'rok remained untouched after many swings and lunges made by the Field Marshall. The Marshall roared in vain at D'rok, enraged at his misfortunate failure of killing his opponent. D'rok, in a taunting manner, simply bent his primary index finger as if to say 'come at me, bro'.
Enraged to the point of near insanity; the Field Marshall gave a growl of distaste. He then violently charged at D'rok in full swing. Finally, to the Marshall's joy: D'rok fell to his back. However, in an approach to finish the kill, the Marshall leaned forward to end the fight; D'rok kicked him in the face instead.
With a slight roll of his eyes, the Field Marshall collapsed backwards, dropping his sword in the process. D'rok wasted no time to get on the downed Marshall and begin to deal yet more blows.
~~
Meanwhile, the two Humans were busy; holding off several dozen SpecOp Sangheili. Collins slapped one of his last remaining magazines into his MA37 just as Forge blasted an unfortunately close Elite in the chest with the M45.
"We won't be getting out of this easy, Trooper!" Forge shouted.
"Agreed! I'm on last Mag!" Collins about screamed.
"Damn it! Get back you Bastard!" Forge yelled, slam firing the M45 into a nearby crowd of Elites.
Forge himself was low on ammunition; he only had about 14 shells left with four loaded. Collins was out for MA37, his last magazine would not last long, and the only other available options would be a few clips for his M6D. D'rok of course was busy with his own fight.
The two Humans pressed themselves against their cover; they would most likely be unable to survive to kill all of the still remaining SpecOps. To their delights, the faint hum of a Human Craft appeared and began to get closer. The remaining Spirit, who was already in the process of leaving, turned suddenly to hightail itself out of the area.
A familiar Triangular winged craft, a UNSC Longsword, Slowed to a near hovering halt alongside the Apex. The craft rotated, turning its front side at the platform. The majority of the SpecOps were unable to get into cover as the Longsword's Rotary guns spun, emitting a quickly build scream of a wail. The Platform seemed to shake as the two Humans experienced the pressure of a thousand pounding percussions as the Longsword unleashed a rain of Heavy anti-aircraft Uranium depleted shells, capable of taking down a small group of Phantoms itself, over and crossing the platform. Anything in its way was quickly no more, the only direct survivors would be a pair of SpecOps who, in vain and threat of being killed in dishonor, had jumped off the Apex to the depths below and a small team who was near the large door.
The Longsword's glowing red rotary barrels ceased spitting out rounds and began to loudly whine down as it rotated it's self around, facing away from the Platform, with its boarding ramp lowered.
"Come on! Ride is here!" Collins screamed at D'rok who remained several meters away.
Hearing Collins, D'rok laid one last punch to the bleeding Field Marshall, and then stood. Turning quickly, D'rok broke into a run towards the Longsword, leaving the Marshall. Collins was behind Forge, who was first up the ramp. Collins, just before stepping onto the ramp, had removed his side arm and dropped his MA37. D'rok gestured for Collins to go on, and then followed. Even as D'rok's first hoof touched the ramp the Longsword began to move as it's thrusters started to begun hot once again.
Unfortunately for the three, the Longsword buckled hard as a volley of Fuel Rods slammed into the wing of the Craft. Collins, who was halfway up the ramp, was thrown into the wall unpleasantly. D'rok fell forward, his face slammed against the steel ramp.
D'rok began to slide back as the Longsword shifted, moving over the platform as it struggled to regain stability. D'rok slid down the ramp only to get a grip as his legs dangled. His body fell from the ramp, only his tight grip on the edge of the ramp stopped D'rok from falling down onto the hostile platform.
D'rok groaned with a slight cringe as both of his hands gripped the sharp edge of the ramp. D'rok struggled with his grip and weight as the Longsword was finally beginning to stabilize.
Back on the platform remained a very determined and still very alive Field Marshall; who stood with broken shields. To his luck, he saw an opportunity to stop the Heretic. It caused him to grip.
In his moment of pulling himself back up, D'rok was violently pulled back down as someone latched onto him. His fingers dug into the metal edge more than before painfully. D'rok looked down to see a very pleased Field Marshall hanging from him.
"Human!" D'rok shouted in a panicked manner.
D'rok looked down once again at the Marshall, only to be stuck in the face. With his adversary dazed, the Field Marshall pulled himself onto the ramp.
"your fight ends here…" the Field Marshall's blood covered face grinned as he stood over D'rok "for whatever it was worth, I hope you enjoy your fall." With that, the Marshall began to press his hoof into D'rok's hand.
This caused D'rok to scream, in both pain and fear of falling; it was not the death he wished upon himself or anyone else for that matter.
"turn around you dumb son of a bitch!" Collins' voice pierced the Marshall's ears, causing his eyes to grow widely in distaste.
"what did you just call me, parasite?"
Collins sat, back firm as his finger rested softly and he stared down the sights of his M6D's iron sights. "I said 'turn around' split lip" Collins spoke in hatred through a gleaming smile "eat shit and die"
Collins pulled the trigger, sending an explosive tipped bullet into the Marshall's chest. This was followed by five more bullets, each slamming into the Field Marshall. With a loud growl, which turned quickly to a building wail, the Field Marshall stumbled backwards, having nothing solid under him, he fell from the ramp, passed D'rok and into the misty abyss below.
D'rok spent a moment looking down to where the Sangheili fell, hanging by a single hand. With a slow exhale D'rok put his other hand firmly onto the metal edge and pulled himself up.
"are you alright?" Collins, now standing close to the edge, asked hesitantly.
"do not worry about my health human! We must get out of this world!"
"Right, Come on!" Collins agreed as D'rok rushed passed him.
"Chasey, we need to leave now!" D'rok shouted as he barged into the cockpit.
Chasey slammed the thrusters to their limit, the ship shook as its engines blared with the sounding of a train. D'rok and Forge stumbled into the wall as the Longsword gained momentum quickly. It was only seconds before it had slammed its way through the sound barrier.
Forge, getting a nudge from D'rok, un-holstered the Detonator from his side. He quickly flicked the cap from the trigger and pressed it. Several moments later, the Longsword began to shake softly.
"guys… I got a large radiation build behind us… what the hell did you guys do!" Chasey asked.
"all part of the plan, just don't turn around" Forge explained.
"I think it worked, Sarge…" Collins announced softly as he looked out the window.
"do you see that opening in the distance, Female?" D'rok pointed as he stood behind her chair.
"that is our exit"
Everyone shook themselves a bit as the Longsword banked deeply into the oddly angled channel through the massive shell of a planet. D'rok stood in front of the side window, watching the forerunner lights and panels pass by. He closed his eyes clearing his mind, putting his arm behind his back for some reason.
It was over; he knew that. A slight smile formed between D'rok's mandibles. He had remembered, and to him that felt amazing.
"how did you know where I was?" A curious Forge asked D'rok, standing close by.
"I guess I had a certain… hunch as you Humans would say" D'rok answered with a pause as he looked over at Forge. "I never forget those I have met prior in my life."
"We've met before?" Forge asked, tilting his head.
"do not let the scar fool your memory, we have." D'rok turned his head further, making his barley healed over scar visible.
"you…" Forge started, looking into D'rok's green eyes. "Shit" Forge muttered in realization, scratching his head "your name was… Don?"
"thank you for remembering, Human. Please call me D'rok." D'rok grinned, letting his forgotten name sink into his mind.
"you've changed…"
"five years is a long and hard trek for anyone, Human."
"thanks, I guess"
"Do not thank me, I am returning the favor of not harming further than you had in our previous confrontation."
The two stopped their conversation and looked back out the window as the Longsword exited the tunnel and quickly out of the atmosphere. Soon the craft was surrounded by space.
"look!" Collins alerted everyone, pointing out the window "the Spirit of Fire!"
At that moment, in the same manner as D'rok remembered; the large UNSC ship barreled out of the tunnel and out into the darkness.
"Female, I suggest you steer clear of this world. Make haste!" D'rok shouted even as the Longsword had been leaving the area.
The explosion of the planet shook the craft; everyone was eventually blinded by its illumination. Once Chasey regained a grip of the Longsword, she found that it was no longer being controlled, but drifting instead. Drifting away from the planet, from the ship, from hope.
"Jeff!" Chasey called for him as she got out of her seat.
"What?" he answered, considered as she began to approach him. "are you o-" he was cut off as she took hold of his cheek and delivered to him a soft kiss.
Collins was left confused.
"don't say anything trooper, just kiss" Forge coached him with a smirk.
By then D'rok was standing by the controls, his eyes searching across the numerous buttons and switches. One of them began to flash; a bright blue one. Soon a communication channel was opened.
"this is ONI AI Soren piloting the UNSC Audience of One. Is there anyone who survived that?" spoke a voice familiar to D'rok.
"Soren, this is Don; your captain. Keep this a secure connection." D'rok answered quickly.
"that has already been underway. This channel is secure."
"ok good" D'rok rubbed his mandibles. "I, along with three Humans are drifting in a mid-sized Human craft. Could you lend a hand?"
"that's you in the Longsword? And to answer your question; yes"
"please do"
"understood"
After the short conversation, D'rok stood watching out the front of the Longsword. The space ahead seemed to ripple, then began to break away into a growing plane of hexagons. Soon a familiar ship floated nearby.
Arms extended from the opened hangar out to the Longsword. The clamps gripped the craft and began to pull the Longsword into the Hangar, to the closest safe place possible.
Sign up to rate and review this story