Spartan One 014

Engines roaring, the Warthog transporting Orion & his Spartans weaved between burnt out cars, and the bloodstained corpses of many Arachnids. 

The men & women of the UNSC followed behind him in a grand procession. Any scattered bugs they found along the way were stomped out, whilst surviving civilians were directed towards a safe zone for evac. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, Orion was reviewing footage of the Hive. Drones had been sent in ahead of time to scout the enemy, revealing some interesting facts. According to the tiny, fist-sized devices, there should be somewhere between one and two thousand Warriors inside, and several Tankers. However, ONI intelligence suggested a Hive carried with it a compliment of 10,000 Warriors. Which likely meant they had either been deployed…or this was a trap, and the Brain Bug knew about the drones. That it had hidden additional units within the skin flaps of the Hive…whichever the case may be, the UNSC forces currently held a numbers advantage, and after talking all that good shit, Orion wouldn't bitch out now. The arrow had been loosed, their only course of action was to stomp those bug fuckers out! 

Arriving on a broken ridgeline surrounded by tons of cracked concrete, and toppled buildings, he finally laid eyes upon it. The alien landing structure-shaped like an acorn or bee-hive-was a yellow-tan-beige color oozing with a syrupy film. This coating protected it against the burning friction of entry into the atmosphere, as well as doubled as a sticky, cushion. 

A ring of tanks, and artillery emplacements had arrived outside, and were unloading everything in their inventory. However, the monolithic Hive was absorbing a good 80% of the attacks, constantly spewing out fresh goo to mitigate further explosions. What hits did land, resulted in large sprays of scalding orange blood, revealing that the Hive was a warm-blooded, living organism. 

Spotting several sphincters-like he had on the Space Bug-Orion knew those would be the most optimal points of entry. Swapping to the command channel, he sent an order to the officer in charge of artillery. 

“This is Lieutenant Winters, concentrate all your firepower on those sphincters. They'll be our points of insertion.” 

“Roger.” 

Aiming at several different entrances, the artillerymen, and tank gunners began to unload their payloads. Bright fiery explosions were dampened by the syrup, but eventually they got through. Within the entrance, one could see a dark environment, one barely lit up by a faint bioluminescence. 

“Spartans, roll out.” Orion commanded. 

The man driving the Warthog gunned it. Meanwhile, Orion flicked his hand, spraying out a small ball of [Warp] above the sphincter's entrance. Any dripping syrup caught up in the field of unreality hissed & sizzled, ground down to a microscopic level. Charging forward, the vehicle indeed had some trouble getting through the sticky substance coating the ground, however, it was built UNSC tough, and after a second where it jerked, the Warthog punched through. 

Behind them, the Mobile Infantry roared, following in their step. To the left, Marines started to attack, whilst to the right, Smasher & Arasaka began their assault. Explosions, gunfire, and shouts echoed across the fleshy organic hallways of the Hive. 

“Be advised, be advised, the enemy is likely to ambush from above, below, and the sides. Look for any mini-sphincters or passageways. Just because the main hallway is clear, does not mean you cannot be flanked!” Orion warned on an open channel. 

After a deluge of “copy” & “understood” flooded the airwaves, Orion started to unload with his assault rifle. 

A small swarm of bugs were coming at them from the front, and he was intent on farming exp. He was already on ‘Slay 500 enemies with an assault rifle’ completing the repeating quest several times already. First, it was slay 50, 100, 200, 300, 400, then 500. By now, he had killed over 1,000 bugs with his assault rifle alone! Each quest was only worth 100exp, but added up, that was 500exp! Considering he only needed 2k to reach level 6 in the Sentinel class, that was pretty good. 

[Squad Shredder Ammo] buffing his rounds, and super soldier reflexes guiding his aim, Orion shot his gun in bursts, piercing brains, and exploding thoraxes. Despite the weight behind the charging swarm, he refused to lose his cool, knowing that his boys had his back. 

There was just enough space for the Warthog to creep forward, and Johnson was having the time of his life unloading the heavy machine gun mounted in the back. 

“Yee-haw! Call me the bail agent, because I've come to collect your debts, ya sorry excuses for excrement!” Johnson gruffly yelled as he held down on the trigger. 

An endless stream of bullet shells poured out of Johnson’s gun, and the barrel ran orange-hot. Yet the dark-skinned private didn't have a care in the world as he was having the time of his life. 

“Private, twelve o'clock!” Orion suddenly roared in urgency. 

A dozen small sphincters hidden out of sight were above them, and even with the headlights of the Warthog, was practically impossible to spot. It was only thanks to his nascent ESP that Orion felt it a fraction ahead of time. Flicking his hand, he sent out some [Warp] into the swarm at the front, temporarily buying some time. Simultaneously, the dozen or so sphincters opened up, and a series of juvenile Warriors-about the size of a big dog-came climbing out. 

“Damnit, they're too small.” Johnson growled in annoyance due to missing several times. 

“Augh!” A Mobile Infantryman screamed as a mini-Warrior dropped down from the ceiling, plunging its claws into his chest. 

‘What I wouldn't give for a plasma grenade right now.’ Orion complained to himself. 

Quick swapping to the dual magnums he swiftly gunned down a dozen of the beasts, but the ‘tiny’ critters kept coming at them! 

Suddenly, a burst of flame jettisoned up towards the densely packed ceiling, instantly crispifying dozens of the beasts. 

“Hot damn!” Johnson exclaimed. “I've got to get me one of those.” 

“Too bad you chose the LT's firesquad, Private.” The Sergeant smugly said, whilst he stepped forward, brandishing his flamethrower. 

Flanking him, two more Spartans began to unleash fiery death upon the foe. Scrunching up, and letting out high pierced shrieks of pain, the mini-Warriors stood no chance. Most of the bugs that were still clinging to the walls were swiftly dealt with. 

“Good thinking, Sergeant!” Orion praised, quick swapping to his shotgun to blast a bug trying to land on his head. 

Yellow-green blood sprayed his armor, and he butted the corpse aside. 

Johnson, meanwhile, had to let his weapon cool down, and knifed a mini-Warrior that tried to bite his mini-Johnson off. “Damned critter, get off me!” He shouted, tossing the dead beast into the slowly dissipating [Warp] field. 

The tunnel filled with the shriek of dying insects and the thunder of UNSC gunfire.

“Contact left!” The Sergeant shouted.

Orion pivoted before the warning had finished leaving the Spartan’s mouth.

Three Warriors erupted from a rupture in the wall, climbing over one another in their frenzy to reach him. Orion put a burst through the first bug’s mouth, jumped out of his seat to avoid a claw, rolling beneath the second’s descending forelimb, and drove his armored fist through the thin joint beneath its skull.

The creature folded over him like some wrestler from the WWE. He caught its weight on one shoulder, used it as a shield against the third Warrior’s claws, then shoved the corpse forward. The two Bugs collided in a thrashing mass of limbs, temporarily unable to attack. Johnson finished the survivor off with a burst, jumping down to cover Orion as he stood back up. Green ichor sprayed across Johnson's visor as he finished the bugs off with a double tap. 

“Hell, Lieutenant.” Johnson barked, advancing through the steaming remains. “You could’ve warned me it was gonna splash.”

“This isn't Seaworld, Private. However, the splash zone is bought and paid for, courtesy of the Sky Marshal.” Orion sarcastically joked, reloading his guns. 

Johnson laughed and slapped a fresh magazine into his rifle too. 

Behind them, the rest of the Spartan squad worked to clean up the stragglers. One pair fired while another moved. Grenades vanished into organic alcoves before clusters of bugs could emerge. Shotguns roared whenever the creatures closed to striking distance. Every few seconds, the chamber shook as demolitions planted farther back collapsed a tunnel or severed another route of reinforcement.

There was no mercy.

Motion tracker pulsing, Orion detected several dozen red dots up ahead. 

“Stack up.” Orion ordered as he advanced, gesturing for the Warthog to follow behind them. 

The passage beyond opened into a cavern large enough to swallow a UNSC frigate’s hangar bay. Here. Warrior Bugs covered the floor, and clung to the walls. They hung upside down from the ceiling, packed together around a central pit veiled in yellow mist.

Orion studied the terrain through his visor, clicking through various shades on the light spectrum. Everything he saw, he recorded to be used as future intelligence for ONI. 

What he witnessed were resin pillars pulsing with that syrupy ooze, and several bulbous structures that contained eggs. The chamber’s far end descended toward a membrane-lined opening guarded by the densest concentration of bugs.

“Sergeant, take the high ground over by those syrupy sacs with the Warthog. Someone else plant some EMP grenades near that sphincter to the right, use your grenade launchers to clear us a path. Johnson, you’re with me.”

Multiple grenades arced into the mass of bugs seconds later, the first detonation tore dozens of Warriors from the ceiling, and the second brought down an entire shelf of resin, crushing bugs beneath tons of hardened hive matter.

The Sergeant opened fire from the high ground, the Warthog's roar became a continuous metallic scream. Tracer fire ripped across the chamber, scything through legs, heads, and thoraxes. Warrior Bugs burst apart in fountains of green and yellow everywhere. Behind them, Rico and the other regulars burst onto the scene, unloading a spectacular deluge of lead. Outnumbering the Arachnids 5 to 1, the Human soldiers blasted them apart with ease. 

Orion and Johnson charged into the chamber down a slight slope. Covered by their allies, they barely faced any resistance. Orion fired until his ammunition counter flashed empty, then let the rifle fall against its sling and drew his shotgun. The first Warrior reached him in a blur of claws, only to fall to the side after a flash of fire. 

A second leapt over the corpse, to which Orion rolled beneath it, came up on one knee, and blew apart its abdomen. Johnson caught a third with a burst of automatic fire before driving the serrated edge of his combat knife through its eye.

“Come on!” Johnson roared at the swarm. “You ugly bastards were louder in the city! What, now that we're in your home, you're scared?! Crying for mommy & daddy?! Good! I'll kill every last one of you.” 

The bugs answered Johnson with a deafening hiss. They crashed into the Spartans from every direction, trying to overwhelm them with a renewed ferocity, as if they could understand Johnson's words. 

‘The Brain Bug must be close.’ Orion thought to himself. 

He then caught a bladed forelimb against his gauntlet, and twisted it until the joint snapped, then buried the broken claw back into the bug's own throat. He turned and fired his shotgun point-blank into another Warrior’s chest. Fighting so many at close quarters, a hit eventually struck him, activating his [Tech Armor]. 

He staggered one step due to the weight, and then a pulse-like explosion rolled around him in an AOE attack as the low-level energy armor broke. The Warrior hissed as it was flung back by a concussive wave. 

‘Damn, Halsey can't invent Mjolnir armor, or steal proper shield tech soon enough!’ Prion raged to himself as he finished his opponent off. 

[Tech Armor] was decent, but it was only truly good once it was on top of a proper energy shield. That was when the Mass Effect ability was at its strongest. 

The Spartans pushed forward through the swarm until all that was left were twitching limbs, and pools of blood. Empty casings rolled down the floor, and flamers erased anything that looked like it might be playing dead. 

“Our target is in the chamber ahead. We all felt its psychic might before. Johnson, you seemed particularly resistant to it, you have the task of incapacitating the Brain Bug. Remember, we want it alive, no disintegrations.” Orion ordered. 

“Yeah, yeah, got it Lieutenant.” Johnson acknowledged, although the thought of sparing a bug made him less than happy. 

They crossed the cavern, boots sinking ankle-deep into ichor, and entered the membrane-lined passage at its far end. Here, the air was wetter and hotter. Each breath carried a stench of ammonia, rot, and something sickeningly sweet. The walls pulsed around them, and was full of translucent alien fluids. The passage opened into a round chamber dominated by a sunken pool of filth, at its center squatted the Brain Bug.

It was enormous, pale, and swollen, its body glistened beneath strands of mucus. Tiny vestigial limbs writhed uselessly beneath its bulk, and its black eyes shifted toward the Spartans with an intelligence that no Warrior had possessed.

Orion felt the creature’s attention settle on him, and this time, he did not fall under the paralysis of its mind. However, blood dripped down his nostrils, and he saw spots in his vision. 

Johnson lifted his rifle. “That is one ugly son of a-”

“Alive. Take it. Alive.” Orion reminded him, struggling to get the words out. 

“Right. Lucky bastard.”

The Brain Bug released a low, bubbling cry as the Private began to unload a ton of tranquilizers. 

They finished securing the creature to a reinforced line of cable, and winched it to the Warthog. 

Just as they were about to extract the high priority target, the sound of an explosion blew open a nearby sphincter.Seconds later, Adam Smasher emerged through the membrane archway. Behind him was a small army of elite Arasaka goons, they were much more in number than the troops who had fought openly at the tower earlier in the day. 

He was drenched from head to toe in bug blood. Green ichor streaked his cybernetic limbs and ran in viscous lines across his armored torso. One hand held a chainblade caked with fragments of shell, and the other carried a heavy pistol large enough to break a normal man’s wrist. His optics fixed upon the Brain Bug, then upon Orion.

“Well, looks like you did the hard part. All the better for me.” 

Johnson shifted his rifle a fraction higher, to which Smasher’s metal jaw split into something that might have been a grin. “Careful, little man.”

Johnson’s finger settled against the trigger. “Careful, scrap heap.”

Smasher walked into the chamber, each step splashing through the cesspit of Bug remains. He regarded the Brain Bug with naked obsession.

“Arasaka is taking the asset.”

“No.” Orion firmly denied. 

Smasher’s head turned toward Orion.

“No?” Smasher asked, as if it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Blood dripped from the chainblade as it slowly roared to life. 

“A mercenary like you wouldn't understand.” Orion said, clucking his tongue. He then sent a message over the squad channel, and the EMP charges he had prepared earlier-for just such a scenario-detonated.

Blue-white energy exploded from six points around the chamber, and the pulse struck Smasher from every direction. His body locked in a rigid stance as he & his corporate goons lost control of their implants. 

The heavy pistol discharged into the ceiling as his arm spasmed, whilst sparks burst from the joints along his shoulders and spine. His optics flickered violently, strobing from red to black and back again, and the chainblade fell from his hand only to be claimed by Johnson as a prize. 

Smasher remained standing, frozen in place, smoke curling from the seams of his armor.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Arasaka.” Orion bowed mockingly, then mounted up on the Warthog. 

Johnson grinned like a kid, and pulled a matchstick from his utility belt. Flicking it against Smasher’s armored suit, he lit a flame, then lit himself a cigar. “Ahh, I love the smell of victory.” 

The Sergeant unloaded a miniature nuclear bomb from the Warthog, and began to input some time for the countdown. Locking itself in place securely, the device started to beep once it was armed. 

“You’ve got 15 minutes to reboot, and retreat. Plenty of time for a cutting tech borg like you, eh, Smasher? Take care.” Orion saluted, signaling for his men to withdraw. 

“WinteRrrrs!!!” Smasher growled through a distorted speaker, unwilling to accept reality.