Spartan One 003

Name: Orion Winters

Level 5 Sentinel 

2000 EXP to Next Level

Powers: Warp (II), Shredder Ammo (IV), Tech Armor (II)

Free Points: (2) 

Missions: 

1) (TBD) 

2) Slay 500 enemies: 500xp

3) Slay 50 enemies SMG/Assault Rifle/Sniper/Shotgun, [25 enemies: Rocket]...100xp each.

Looking at his status screen during the bumpy ride back to their ship, he then glanced at his Spartans. Covered in green-yellow gore from the many Warrior Bugs they had killed, they appeared utterly exhausted. Orion himself would like nothing more than to shower off, and sleep for the next 32 hours. 

Clenching a gloved hand in front of his visor, he still couldn't believe that he was a super soldier fighting aliens for Humanity. Each squeeze of the fist reminded him how real this was. That he was, apparently, a natural biotic, or perhaps psychic, depending on how one judged his Mass Effect System, or Starship Troopers lore. Call it esp or science all you want, but like a psyker from 40k or a Jedi from Star Wars, what really mattered, was that he was essentially a space wizard. From what he could tell, he didn't have any additional implants, outside of what a Spartan should have. 

Additionally, he seemed to have some sort of sixth sense at the back of his mind. As if there was some potential waiting to be unlocked. Those game abilities of his were like a machine executing a command. Like a keyboard, every time the letter ‘A’ was tapped, ‘A’ would appear on the screen. 

Orion felt like-with some experimentation-he could string this psychic power together like letters on a keyboard, and form a ‘spell/word’ like Warp, or some other ability. It was difficult to describe, and was a concept he barely grasped, but given enough practice, and introspection, he felt like he could unlock new powers and abilities through training. 

For example, he thought he had caught a glimpse of an ‘empathic’ ability when he glanced at Johnson. The ornery Spartan I was quiet the whole time. You didn't need to be a psychic to see he was annoyed. But with this peripheral empathic ability, Orion swore the loud mouth wasn't angry about bugs…

“Johnson, what's on your mind, angry that you didn't kill enough bugs?” Orion asked. 

“Tch. No need to rub it in, Lieutenant.” Johnson scowled, crossing his arms. 

“Enough with the attitude, Private, it's just a round of beer.” The Sergeant admonished with a return scowl. 

The two men were practically budding heads, such was their tension. Then, out of nowhere, Johnson began to laugh uproariously. 

“I'll just have to wear bigger boots next time! LT, take me in your firesquad, then Sarge won't ever have a chance to win.” Johnson declared in an outrageous, baiting manner. 

“Alright, alright, if we split up, you can join my firesquad.” Orion laughed, waving both men down. “But you're right, it would be unfair…don't think I didn't see you parry aside that claw with the butt of your rifle, that shit was badass.” 

“Damn straight it was! You're not so bad yourself, sir. Kicking off that falling bug, damn I thought you were going to fall off the cliff.” Johnson laughed along. 

Orion nodded along, and continued the flow of conversation where he praised moments of heroism, and laughed at a few flub-ups, like when one Spartan tripped accidentally evading a fatal blow, or another one fumbled with their magazine then bashed the Warrior Bug dead with said magazine. The flight back to the fleet had started off solemnly, but by the time they returned, Orion wouldn't say everyone was full of smiles, but the oppressive shame of defeat wasn't so harsh. 

The Pelican eventually landed, making a screeching sound of metal on metal as its damaged engines whined in an attempt to stabilize the bird. 

“Everyone out!” Hood's voice calmly ordered over the intercom. “The system is detecting trace amounts of smoke near the fuel lines. She could go at any moment.” 

“You heard him, Spartans! Double time!” Orion shouted, urging everyone. 

Filing out of the Pelican in short order, he found that the front hatch had been opened, and a jacked young man who couldn't be older than 20, wearing a standard navy blue uniform was wielding a fire extinguisher like his life depended on it. 

Without thinking, Orion found a red canister of his own, and began to spray the Pelican down. Curiously, Shredder Ammo applied to this as well, and the foam he sprayed seemed to be super effective. 

‘Huh. Next time we engage an enemy fleet, should I man the guns?...if I max out Shredder Ammo, can I upgrade the squad feature to encompass the entire army?!?!’ Orion thought to himself, breathing heavily. 

“Lieutenant Terrence Hood, a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Winters.” The naval officer-Hood-said, offering his hand once it appeared the Pelican was safe & sound. 

Orion took a moment to stare the future Lord Admiral in the eyes, then inclined his head, and shook his hand. “We must've been the last bird out. Those Warthogs came in just at the right time.” 

Hood grimaced, but nodded his head. “Thereabouts. Eliminating those Plasma Bugs freed up several more transports. Your actions saved at least twenty thousand lives.” 

“It was a joint effort, I'll make sure to detail your heroism in my report. You must be the first man alive to kill one of those Dragonflies.” Orion said with a warm smile. 

It didn't hurt to butter a well connected noble like Hood up. Besides, in this type of government, it didn't hurt to make allies early. Who knew, maybe Hood could even be their personal pilot for the next few missions? 

“We'll have to do better next time.” Hood grimly intoned, then glanced at the practically empty hanger. 

500,000 men had deployed onto Klendathu, and over 100 ships. Half that number was now gone. 

“Until then.” Hood shook his hand one last time, then pointed his chin towards someone behind Orion. 

Turning around, he spotted a young uniformed man with glowing prosthetic blue eyes, cutting a sharp figure. A pyramid patch was on his right shoulder, and the rank bars of Captain marked him as an officer belonging to the Office of Naval Intelligence. Aka: ONI. 

He was the handler of this group of prototype Spartans, his name was Jack Harper, but this lanky black haired guy who looked like a future tech CEO looked eerily similar to the Illusive Man from the Mass Effect series. 

A subtle pulse came from Harper, as if he were probing his mind. Orion took an aggressive step forward, and mentally punched that probing feeling. Harper had a queasy look on his face, then grinned at him. 

“I had hoped the reports were true. Come with me, Winters, we have much to discuss.” Harper said with little fanfare, then turned around, expecting him to follow. 

Orion grit his teeth. He hated smarmy rats like this guy the most. Past memories showed that Harper was an ONI spook through and through. To him, Human lives were just a number, that the ends justified the means every time. Taking a deep breath so he wouldn't say something stupid, Orion glanced back at his squad. “Sergeant, see that everything is cleaned, and cataloged. Then get some goddamned sleep.”

“Sir!” The Sergeant saluted. 

Johnson stepped out of line, then gestured towards Harper's back, and spoke on the squad comms. “Say the word, and we'll frag him. Anyone asks, it was the bugs.” 

Most other people in the squad nodded along, but there were two or three who looked incredibly uncomfortable. Although everyone wore masks, his latent esp was giving him a vibe for these kinds of things. 

Shaking his head, he turned to follow Harper. At the same time, he spoke to Johnson on a private channel. “Not yet at least, and don't be so open about your thoughts.” 

Leaving the squad behind, Orion followed Harper into a cramped office. It was simple, and utilitarian. A picture of Harper shaking some old General's hand was hanging on the wall behind him, and a United Terran flag was mounted on the side. Other than that, there was a desk, a chair, and a computer terminal. 

As Harper took his seat, and logged into his computer, Orion was forced to stand before the desk. 

“I've already reviewed several sources of footage. I'll be skimming through the recording of the cameraman who followed you now. We can't be having our secrets leaked now, can we?” Harper explained his actions as he stared at his monitor. 

Spending about ten minutes staring at the screen, his robotic eyes seemed to move much more faster than the average man. This genius from ONI absorbed the data from a one hour fight in less time than it took for some people to eat a good meal, or take a satisfying shit. Upon finishing the video, a small smile spread across Harper's face. 

Steepling his fingers like a pyramid, the secret agent regarded Orion like he was some prized bull or race horse. “Would you like some water, Winters?” He offered. 

Orion-feeling ornery-stared forward, and spoke in his most raspy deadpan: “No.” 

“Hmm. I am not your enemy, Lieutenant. We both fight for the benefit of all of Humanity. Of course, I could report to my superiors that I recommend you become a test subject, but that would be a waste.” Harper said with the kind of nonchalance one might speak with when ordering food. 

Orion kept staring forward, not even budging an inch. 

“Yes, the silent stoic type. After a defeat like this, your look will be most useful in drumming up support…Lieutenant Winters, henceforth, you are ordered never to remove your helmet in public. A…Spartan such as you will do quite well to drum up morale. Why, any young man could see himself in you. Regardless of sex, race, color or creed, Humanity needs Heroes like you.” Harper said aloud in a somewhat fanatical tone as if he were speaking more to himself then to Orion. 

Orion stiffly saluted, then turned to exit the door as he heard the dismissal in the man's voice. “Acknowledged.”

“Oh, and Winters.” Harper called out to Orion as the door hissed open. 

Pausing in his step with his back to the man, Orion waited. 

“Submit your report by 0500. We'll be reinforcing Troy, the bugs have begun their counterattack, and I want you present on the bridge as my special attache.” Harper said dismissively, his eyes already back on the monitor, going over the recording, and curating what pieces would be allowed for public consumption. 

Nodding back at the spook, Orion left the tiny office, and then made his way to the armory to clean his gear. 

“Hey, it's the Spartan!” A skinny tall blonde man said in shocked awe. “Hey Dizzy, your boyfrien-” 

“Stow it, Ace!” A cute ginger girl pulled her friend away, and smiled at Orion with a blush. “Sorry to bother you, sir, we were just on our way to medical to see a friend.” Dizzy saluted, then disappeared down the hall. 

“You're my hero, sir, a real man among men!” Ace gave a big smiling grin, and winked, leaning in close. “The women in the unit can't stop talking about you. Say, if you give the word, I can arrange for a party in your quarter-” 

“Come on Ace!” Dizzy came back, and dragged the man away. 

Orion shook his head, somewhat surprised that he had run into part of the main caste from the Starship Troopers movie. Along the way to the armory, many other troopers recognized him, and stood aside to salute him, or give their thanks. 

Just as he finally made it through the crowds of people and sat down to clean his gear, a message pinged his gear, and big flashing text entered his visor saying: WE NEED TO TALK. 

Blinking his eyes, he wondered who the hell the sender could be when he already spoke with the ONI spook. Then, it hit him. It was called the ORION Project, who else could it be than Dr. Halsey?! 

Then another memory hit him. He may or may not be friends with benefits/rivals/sort of sometimes antagonists with said young doctor. 

A second later, the call connected, and he caught a glimpse of a woman with short raven hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp features. 

“Well, Orion, how do you explain yourself?” The sociopathic super scientist genius, and hope for humanity demanded of him in the tone of an irate girlfriend. 

‘Ahhh, fuck. Can't I go back to killing bugs already?’ 

~~~~~~

AN: Let's keep that like count nice and healthy~ and we might just survive this drop.