Halo: Guerrillas In The Mist (No longer being updated)

Chapter 5: A Rude Awakening

Thursday, November 25th

15: 12 hours

Boots scraped against the concrete as Dmitri felt himself being dragged across the uneven terrain. Every now and then a bump would slowly but surely bring back to his senses. Eventually, he pushed his teammate’s hands away from his urban battle dress uniform and sat still on the pavement, blinking his eyes to wake himself up again. With a stretch or two, he jumped up onto his feet and turned to face his squad. Usain spoke first. “Damn Sarge, you scared us back there! You were knocked out cold for a good twenty minutes before we pulled you outta the rubble. You were mumbling some gibberish the whole way here.” Dmitri quickly retorted. “You should’ve left me there son, I could do with a good bit of kip!”

 Usain knew he was fully recovered when he was back to his old British accent and slang. He had always found it odd that a man named Dmitri Starlov, quintessentially of Russian origin, had such a mastery of the English language. Though born and raised for five years on a colony world, his parents had taken the first chance they could to get back to Earth and eventually found a place in Britain. Life out in the colonies could be a gruelling, hard grind just to survive. Some colonies got lots of trade and good land. Unfortunately, Dmitri’s had neither. With that and the threat of attack looming over them like a dark cloud, they had taken the first chance they got to get out.

He was always told about his roots, about his families part in building the colony, but at heart, he was always more British. Over his sixteen years in the UK, he had picked up a distinct upper class accent and lots of the slang was now a key part of his vocabulary. When you compared it to Private Petrov’s harsh, grating accent, with both of them hailing from the same planet, it was a godsend they had him to bark out their orders. You could only get used to Petrov’s accent after you’d spent the amount of time fighting alongside him as the squad had.

Dmitri straight away began briefing his weary soldiers. “I have an objective in mind boys. About a clic northwest of our position is a tall apartment building. In the fighting, a Pelican crashed into the side and is now embedded in the wall. We are going to secure the crash site, look for survivors and gather up any supplies. Hopefully we’ll be able to get some rest up there too. You with me Marines?”  A unanimous “Oorah!” later and they were on the move.

Though the snow storms had subsided a little since their deployment, Sojourn V was known for the tenacity of their winters. Now they were back in full force, snarling and howling as they wound their way through the city streets. Blizzards of snow engulfed the wreckage of the battle and the biting cold stung the wounds and open skin of the troops. As they walked, they ripped any spare clothing into makeshift balaclavas and neck covers. Anything they could do to prevent the onset of frostbite.

Exhausted and weary, they pressed on regardless, knowing they had to reach the Pelican or risk death by starvation. The weather was taking its toll on the men, slowly sapping their will and strength and slowing them down to a crawl. The small traffic tunnel they were approaching would provide ample cover for them to rest for a while and regain some energy. As they hunkered down, huddled to together for warmth, the distinctive ping of a needle rifle echoed through the steel girders. “Sniper, get down!” barked Dmitri, rolling into cover behind an overturned civilian warthog.

He linked his scope to the eyepiece on his helmet and pushed his rifle through a hole in the warthog’s now vertical floor plate, probably caused by a plasma grenade. Whoever was driving this thing when it got stuck would have had a badly singed ass.

The scope showed quite a large enemy group. A Ghost, two Jackal snipers, two Elite commanders and eight Grunts for good measure. Most likely a scouting party for a larger force coming to set up camp in the area. He knew it was time to wreak some havoc, stir up the hornet’s nest a little. If this group were to disappear, they would be expecting a much larger marine presence in the area. They send in a large force to clean up the area, Knight Squad can quickly slip out behind them and get closer to the heart of the enemy. Plus, a few traps and some well-placed explosives, and they would be able to take out much of the attacking force too. Two birds with one stone. He decided it was time to get to work.

“Suppressing fire on the Elites! Ramsey, light that Ghost up with the Spanker, Lopez, Petrov, flank them from the other side of the tunnel. I’ll do what I can from here.” As their instincts kicked in and the well drilled combat tactics took effect, Dmitri focused in on the two Jackals. Bang. Bang. The rounds ripped into their necks, spraying blood everywhere and knocking them off their perch on top of a burnt out Scorpion. He grabbed onto the Warthog to keep himself stable as the Spankers rocket exploded from the tube and streaked towards its target. Purple alien metal showered down on the remaining enemies. Another round flashed from Dmitri’s muzzle and tore straight through An Elite’s chest armour. He stood for a moment, looked down into the fist size tear in his chest and went limp, clattering to the floor.

Lopez and Petrov emerged from the side tunnel and sprayed the grunts with lead like a hose dousing a fire. Their M7 sub machineguns turned the little freaks into mincemeat. Corporal Smith and Usain both opened fire on the remaining Elite with their Battle Rifles. A quick check for any usable weapons and a few brutal executions later and they were back on their way to the target, like nothing had happened. They were Marines. Fighting was their life and they were bloody good at it.