Spartan 009

Bandaged and bloodied, Corporal Johnny Rico of the 412th Mobile Infantry had one arm in a sling, and a roaring gun in the other. Situated in the lobby to a skyscraper, wrecked cars & debris served as a final line of defense between them and the bugs. Countless Warrior Bug corpses clogged the entrance, forcing the enemy into a narrow choke point. 

“Hold the line, troopers, we've got well over ten thousand souls behind us, we can't afford to fail now.” Rico barked towards his 30 or so remaining men. After several disasters, he had been placed in charge. 

“Corporal, they're climbing the building, the LT on the second floor is being overrun!” A bandaged Private said in despair. 

‘¡Carajo! Where are our reinforcements?!’ Rico internally swore, and raged to himself.

Troy was a planet incredibly important to Arasaka, one where weapons and new tech were being developed all the time. He had expected the company with its own PMC to provide support in defense of the city…but they had remained holed up in their tower. 

For the past 3 hours, it had been hell on Troy. Local command had been targeted early, and communication relays hit hard, almost as if the damned insects knew what they were doing…but his men were tough. They had been trained to keep fighting regardless of comms with the upper brass. They had moved from one engagement to the next, kicking ass and taking names. Fighting through the night, his company of ten thousand men had been whittled away to a handful. Countless times, he wanted to just die, feeling like he owed it to the men he had failed. To go out like a true blooded warrior. However, Izzy was tending to the wounded in a back kitchen, whilst his friends like Ace fought by his side. Many soldiers whom they picked up along the way had brought their families along for deployment, as Troy was an advanced,  peaceful colony. He couldn't give up. 

“Kill the bugs, fight to the last man, give no quarter!” Rico shouted once more as he ran at a Warrior, ducked under its claws, and blasted its brains out. 

Killing two more, he felt his gun go dry with a sharp clicking sound. 

Through the corridor full of bodies, he spotted a large blue-black beetle thing, a Tanker Bug according to his debrief. A hot jet of flames came rushing in, melting a quarter of the Warrior corpses that they were using as a barricade. 

Rico felt his heart drop into his stomach as he realized what was going on. When he began to madly look around for a rocket, or anything to end this threat, he heard the distant sound of a whining engine rushing closer and closer. Much to his shock, a large blue orb came out of nowhere, and shredded the top half of the Tanker Bug to bits! 

Roaring into view, a large metal vehicle crushed Warriors under its treads, and gunned them down wholesale with its big guns. 

Coming to a halt, the Elephant's rear hatch opened up, and a Warthog growled out of its hangar, heavy machine gun pouring led into the enemy. Emerging behind the truck was a squadron of all black special forces units. Their shots were just as good as the very best Marines, each one able to kill a bug with just one or two bursts. Rico felt his heart pounding in relief filled adrenaline. 

He wanted to hope. Dared to dream! But ultimately, less than 30 soldiers departed from the rear of the Elephant, and there were still hundreds of bugs swarming them. He was about to call out to them, to retreat to the skyscraper's lobby, and fight in an advantageous position. 

Then he saw him. 

Standing at the very front of the firing line was A-01, the one all his friends whispered about after the drop on Klendauthu. He was a Spartan. 

The man in black shot a sniper rifle inhumanly fast, and impossibly accurate. One bullet fired into the horde pierced one, two, three eyeholes in a row. Expending all four shells, 12 Warriors dropped dead in five seconds. This alone made Rico hold his tongue, and pause in his step. What he saw next made his blood boil, and had him surge forward to join the man. 

Holding out his left hand, that same blue orb that had destroyed the Tanker emerged, disintegrating several Warriors, and creating a gap in their lines. Generating a brief moment of reprieve, A-01 seemed to swap weapons out of nowhere, like it was some sort of magic trick, or he was some guy out of a videogame. 

A pair of magnums entered the spec op's hands, and each bullet was a lethal round. Thorax's exploded, and eyeholes gushed yellow-green goo nearly every second. Twenty four 12.7×40mm semi-armor piercing high-explosive rounds barked out in less time than it took a man to say ‘holy fuck!’ 

All the while, the Elephant provided covering fire, and acted as a shield, protecting A-01's flanks. Before long, well over a hundred Warrior corpses had piled high, and the tide was turning. 

“Go, go, go! Fight! This is our chance!” Rico-full of courage-led his men in a countercharge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack Harper, ONI Captain, and handler for the newly dubbed ‘Spartan Program.’ Held a BTR in hand, and stood behind the line of Spartans on top of a raised platform. 

His blue cybernetic eyes rapidly processed data, giving him a sort of ‘slow motion’ experience, allowing his brain to interpret time differently than the common man. Lifting his gun, he set it to single-shot mode, took aim, and fired. A Warrior dropped dead as its eye was pierced, and its brains smashed. 

Harper raised an eyebrow, then continued to shoot one accurate bullet at a time. Nearly each strike was on point, and dropped the enemy with just one hit. 

“Remarkable.” He muttered to himself, sparing a glance at Winter's back. 

This brief series of events had confirmed a hypothesis of his. As a trusted aid of Director Parangosky's, he had, in actuality, come into contact with the Arachnid species long before the destruction of Buenos Aires. In fact, he had personally conducted live fire tests in the lab on several Warrior variants, and read countless reports. 

What he just did-slaying a Warrior with a single shot to the eye-was a statistical anomaly. Eight out of ten times, such an occurrence would blind the bug, but not result in a fatality. For that, burst fire mode was much more reliable. Three bullets-as was typical for the BTR-resulted in a 50% casualty rate when striking a Warrior in the eye, this was due to a higher likelihood of piercing the brain. Meanwhile, six bullets was considered the most optimal approach with a 85% lethality rate. 

Attaching himself to the good Lieutenant's squad had yielded interesting results to say the least. During his review of the battle of Klendauthu, he had noticed a difference between not only Winter's effectiveness, but that of his entire unit. After several subtle tests during the flight to Troy, he had ruled out any other psychics amongst the Spartans. Therefore, it was clear that this change in weapon efficacy was due to that man. 

Pausing to reload, Harper's robotic eyes seared every second of combat that took place in front of him directly into his mind to be reviewed later. Up until this point, psychics had mostly been relegated to reading minds, predicting changes in the weather, and guessing probabilities. As an intelligence agent, and psychic himself, he found these abilities to suit his needs quite well. 

Proud as he was of his powers over the mind, it was a field that was deemed impractical by the upper echelons of the military & the commercial sector. Weyland-Yutani had developed fully functional androids that could perform the most dangerous labor, never complained about wages, and were unerringly loyal. ONI could not trust a machine beholden to a board of directors. 

Arasaka, SkyNet, and OmniCorp had all developed cyborgs of their own. Yet cyberpsychosis meant the more machine a man became, the more at risk he was at going insane. Harper had read the reports, many of the cyborgs who had been sent to purge rebel colonies or terrorist groups frequently turned on their comrades due to insanity or hackers. They were a vulnerable group, and looked like monsters. Hardly worthy of being the face of Humanity. 

Then there was Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. Most would assume they were nothing more than a company that wanted to heal the galaxy. ONI knew better. Although there had been a handful of successes, the amount of damage control, and cover ups were staggering. If-when-it was up to him, Umbrella would cease to exist. Harper had been complicit in many dark deeds in the name of Humanity. Kidnapping several hundred children for Halsey's ‘Spartan II’ project right before deploying for Klendauthu being but the latest of his sins. However, at least one planet, and two orbital colonies had required glassing after several outbreaks. 

ONI knew for years that aliens existed, that war was inevitable. The light of democracy would be shown upon them. It was only a matter of time.  

And in that time of strife, a Hero would be needed. The first Sky Marshal, Alexander, Ghengis, Cao Cao, Nobunaga, Saladin, El Sid, Maharaj, San Martin, Washington, and so many more men were remembered because of their great accomplishments. And he saw that same determination in Winters. 

Not just anyone could survive a ‘super soldier’ program, and fight his way to become the leader of the top special forces unit within the UNSC. Not just anyone could kill his way out of the Klendauthu drop sight massacre. And most importantly, Winters belonged to ONI. 

A-01 would be a symbol representing the best a citizen could be. Inspiration for a new generation of volunteers. To show the galaxy that not only can the bugs die, but that we can win. Let the corporations squabble amongst one another, let the corrupt officers & officials jockey for bribes and pad their slush funds. Whilst they think themselves untouchable, ONI would use this war as an excuse to clean house. 

With Winters as the speartip, he could expose their greed to the galaxy. And when the people turn on them, ONI would be there to strictly regulate them. When they cry out for a hero due to the incompetent politicians, ONI would provide them with a new Sky Marshal. 

Harper took in a sharp breath as his powerful psychic mind conceived of a future that had yet to be. The day he sat behind the Director's desk, would be the day their species escaped the doldrums of society. 

Coldly smiling to himself, he made sure to advance alongside the Spartans, making himself known by killing more and more. Wearing not even one bit of armor, he slew a bug that was about to claim a squadmates life, and slowly walking forward, drew his sidearm, and gunned down a Dragonfly that tried to ambush them. 

The bug crashed down in front of Winters, its wings still fluttering in an attempt to decapitate him. Lifting his boot, the blackclad Spartan crushed its head, not even pausing in his step as he blasted another beast apart with his shotgun. 

Harper allowed himself a self satisfied smirk. After his reports were verified, psychic research would surely become one of ONI's top priorities. 

A new dawn had begun for Humanity!