Halo: Guerrillas In The Mist (No longer being updated)

Chapter 1: Ambush

Halo: Guerrillas In The Mist

This is a Halo fan fiction

Tuesday, November 30th

08:00 hours

Sergeant Dmitri Starlov pushed aside the rubble on the 5th floor of the hotel and settled into a prone position. He closed his eyes briefly, weary and tired from one week of constant fighting on the snow covered colony Sojourn V. He glanced over his shoulder at his spotter, Corporal Usain Kinte, as he crawled into the snow mound next to him, monocular in hand. Their squad, Knight Squad, from the 77th Marine Recon Regiment, had been engaged in heavy urban combat in the capital city of New Autumn with no link or contact with the rest of the battalion for 5 days. Surviving on the dead’s ammunition and whatever they could scrounge from abandoned military checkpoints, they had waged a guerrilla war on the covenant supply chain, taking out convoys and high value targets.

Dmitri peered through the scope on his S2 AM sniper rifle and spotted the other 4 members of his squad hunker down into ambush positions behind a crashed Pelican. Corporal Smith, Lance Corporal Ramsay and Privates Lopez and Petrenko, their faces drawn with weariness, all checked their ammo in unison. “Enemy, 2 o’clock,” observed Usain, his monocular pressed into the hollow of his eye socket. Dmitri brought his S2 AM’s heavy barrel to bear on the newcomers.

 Flipping the scope to x10 magnification, he surveyed the enemy. “1 Shadow packed with supplies, 3 Elite Minors, 1 Major, 4 Jackal snipers, 8 grunt minors and... holy Christ, it’s a Hunter pair!”His spotter rose into a crouched position and readied his new BR-55 battle rifle for combat. Linking comms with the squad, the Sergeant barked orders into the mic. “Okay, Ramsay, you take out the Hunters with the Spanker, Kunta will have the Jackals and I’ll take the Squids. Rest of you, take out the little guys then raid the supply carrier. Engage on my shot. Got it?” They replied, once again in unison, with “Sir, yes Sir!” Dmitri calculated the distance, wind, velocity and drop then led the targeting reticule a millimetre in front of the Major’s crimson, crowned, half-jawed skull. Exhaling slowly, he pulled the trigger.

The armour piercing, fin-stabilised, discarding sabot round cut through the air, a trail of mist behind it. It smashed through the Elites jaw, ripping off all of its mandibles and dropping it like a sack of bricks. He quickly adjusted to the next Elite, looking around in confusion. As the rest of his team began laying down fire, he fired again. This time the round smashed through its skull, taking its helmet and half of its head with it. The purple, alien blood spurted out as it slid down the Shadows smooth armour plating and into the crisp white snow. As he switched to the next target, a searing, burning sensation engulfed his right shoulder. As he looked down at the plasma wound, he drifted into unconsciousness, and his mind was flung back to the start of this god-forsaken campaign.