Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Spartans in Another World?

"Covenant forces inbound Chief," Cortana warned.

John looks at the crashed pod; of all that survived, it was he and two others. Six was surveying the lands whilst Emile got his gear checked and accounted for.

"Let's move," Chief commanded, loading a fresh mag into his MA37.

No words were spoken from the other two spartans as they formed a spread formation to cover more ground. As they were making progress, Noble Four looked back only to see a Dextro Xur-pattern troop carrier dropping troops at their crashed escape pod. He then looks back at Chief. He's no fangirl, but having the chance to work with what is deemed humanities finest warrior is a privilege none can easily obtain.

Six and Chief on the other hand had indifferent thoughts, just another brother fighting alongside each other. They were similar in that aspect as John-117 and Noble Six were soldiers through and through. Humanity was an afterthought in the midst of battle, something the two of them never longed for– for it's foreign to them. But it's something they're not opposed to learning. As of right now, humanity needs soldiers; and a soldier they'll get. Just a legend and an ONI hunting dog walking side by side.

"Chief," Emile notified over comms, "contact, 12 and 3 o'clock. They haven't noticed us yet."

"Want to take the lead spartan?" Six says looking over at Chief.

Chief briefly glances back before giving his orders, "Lethal and quick, don't give them time to respond. Four, on you."

Emile smiles under his helmet, "I'm ready, how bout you?"

Even in the daylight, the three spartans creeped up unnoticed by what they assumed was a scouting party. With the battle above, Covenant forces within the ring aren't as overwhelming as they were in the game or lore.

But that's about to change as fate wills it, "Slipspace drive detected Chief.," Cortana reported, "the unknown ships above are giving them hell but the covenant ships are rising steadily as they fall. Expect ground reinforcement."

Chief took note as Emile gave his signal; that of which is a knife etched into a grunts neck and a headshot to another with the big iron on his hip. The jackals and grunts on this poor excuse of a patrol didn't know what was to become of them as two more spartans emerged from behind a boulder and tree. They opened fire in burst, making sure to conserve ammo. A lone elite was the only one that glimpsed any sort of resistance, but nothing like a close ranged shotgun blast won't solve.

"Clear," Chief sounded off in comms.

"Clear." 

"Clear." 

The other two gave a green light as they moved on. Chief followed suit but not before picking up a jackal shield.

"I'm reading a lifeboat beacon over the next hill." Cortana notifies.

Moving up towards a rock formation atop a hill, the three spartans hid themselves behind cover as they assess the situation. A covenant drop ship was currently landed as a typical covenant squad of grunts, jackals, and an elite or two were dropped off.

"There," Six points over at an unidentified structure, "friendlies."

Four and Chief took note, but something seemed off. A kid was among them, waving over in their direction with a smile on his face before one of the few marines forced him to duck under cover as a plasma shot whizzed past where his head once was.

"How in the…" Emile's comment trailed off into silence as disbelief washes over him. Six and Chief had the same notion but weren't as expressive or vocal about it as Emile was, "I think we can all agree to question the kid after this."

A silent agreement between Chief and Six.

They went unnoticed under the guise of the firefight between them alien bastards and the survivors of the escape pods. Chief handed Emile the jackal shield as they set up the noose. Positions acquired, guns set and loaded; with green lights from Six and Four, they rained lead.

Getting a sudden attack from the back, the covenant forces weren't reduced into a panic– aside from the usual grunts. These guys were resilient– mentally significant compared to the patrol the three spartans initially hit. They fired back with their plasma weaponry as the elites 'wort worted' orders and such.

Six ran from cover to cover, firing along their flanks. Whilst Six was cutting off an escape route, Emile charged ahead, jackal shield raised. Doging, deflecting, Emile made short work of the distance between him and the next soon-to-be dead fucker. An elite has been bugging him as of late, the one contributing the most on suppressive fire against himself.

Chief made sure that Emile's blind spots weren't taken advantage of. Which led Emile with a straight shot towards the elite.

Within melee range, Emile winded up his arm equipped with the shield before delivering a diagonal-upward motion. Delivering a shield strike like a true spartan, he drew out his 'dory' and aimed straight at the chest of an off-balanced elite.

"Eat shit!"

—Bang!

The elite ragged doll's with a bowling ball sized hole across the battlefield. Emile ejected the used shell as he one handedly chambers another.

"Come get some—Bang!"

Like a true spartan hoplite. 

As Six was firing rounds, he took notice of another drop ship arriving. Judging by its trajectory, it was bound to land behind the survivors. He looked over at Chief– he noticed it too. Getting a nod from him, Six reloads and disengages from this battle, looking to delay the reinforcements while those two wrap up here.

"Noble Four, you as well," Chief ordered.

—Bang!

—Chak!

—Chik!

"On it Chief!" Emile responds.

As Emile disengages, Chief shoots down the last few covies in the area. Most of the survivors by now switched to the other side, defending themselves and assisting the two spartans. Chief took this time to reload and to meet up with the kid.

The structure was like a spire, a beacon of forerunner ingenuity at one point in time. Coming up at the top of the ramp, the kid– Zesrael– was… relaxing… in this situation.

"The gall to sit here while marines are fighting for their lives," Cortana complains.

Chief silently agrees.

Zesrael was sitting along a low barrier, back towards the wall– leaning in leisure. He looks over at Chief, mouth stuffed with a snack, "Hwey, mowuth youdth ding?"

Even as a soldier, he's never seen such undisciplined behavior.

Noticing his blunder, Zesrael tries again with an empty mouth, "hey, how you doing?"

'This kid,' — "We need your assistance," Chief notified.

"Mmm, no you don't," Zesrael instantly travels over to the otherside at blurring speeds, looking over the railing, "yeah… you guys got this. Your two friends are just cleaning up now," Zesrael yells over. 

He looks up at the sky, "and I don't sense any more backup coming."

"Then assist us in rounding up the remaining survivors. I'm picking up more life pods in the area," Cortana reasoned within Zesrael's suit.

Zesrael gave her access to a very thin surface of the suit, allowing just communications between the two.

Zesrael makes an exaggerated thinking face, groaning as he twists his head here and there.

"Hmmm, I suppose," he starts, "but I feel kinda lazy– Wait! I'll just use them! This'll be their first time outside– I wonder how they'll take it?"

As Zesrael seeps into his own little world,

"Cortana?"

"I'm just as confused as you are, Chief."

The two are further confused into the madness-like gravitational pull Zesrael has. Always getting into rowdy situations with a nonchalance affair. Luckily enough, Four and Six were making their way up the ramp when they saw Chief and the kid.

"Clear," Six, as on point as always, announces a job well done.

"I see the runt is doing well," Emile quips and looks over to him, "could've helped us."

Zes just waves it off, "nah, that was your glory."

Four just snorts in disbelief..

Master Chief looks over at Four, then at Six. All seemingly in a collective mind.

Six slightly nods a Chief and Four before eyeing down Zesrael, "I've– we've got questions."

"I'll answer the best I can along the way," Zesrael responded with a relaxed smile.

––––––––––––––

Foehammer did the usual routine like in the game. Picked up the survivors of the escape pods– or as Cortana calls them– life pods. She also delivered the guys a gift; in the form of an open case green truck with a M41 Light Anti-Aircraft Gun– a triple barreled machine gun– in the back. The ever famous warthog in the flesh, Zesrael tried to whistle at the beauty but all he managed was to blow air.

The spartans commandeered the warthog, Chief at the gun, Six riding shotgun, and Emile as the designated driver. Zesrael was a bit vexed, he too wanted to ride the warthog, but oh well; can't have everything in life, even when you're a higher being.

The three spartans look over at Zesrael, always with that exaggerated thinking body language.

"We don't even have his name," Emile comments.

Chief looks down at the driver side, "it's Zesrael, Cortana confirmed that back at launch."

"What kind of gay ass name is that?" Emile quips.

"The kind that can rip you in half," Six countered, defending Zesrael, "So how are we going to do this? The warthog only has three passengers, and I don't think the kid would want to sit on my lap or hang off the vehicle. Frankly, I don't want him sitting on my lap either, it makes me feel less situated and ready for the upcoming bout."

As they were conversing for a solution, Zesreal on the other hand had better ideas. Using one of his free shit tokens, he conjured a sparrow from Destiny. The Gjallarswift, a sparrow in tribute to the mighty Ghallarhorn rocket launcher. It appeared into reality like in game, with digital effects and lights.

It was like a spear made vehicle, golden ornaments daunted the thing. The original Gjallarswift came in with white and some red stripes. This one was black and gray with the same golden ornaments. The hood came with a wolf-like head, its fur turned to wings at the edges. The Gjallarswifts edges of the base too had wings. As for the stripes, they were replaced with Zesraels military insignia.

Zesreal bit his lip in excitement, many things can peak a man's interest, and toys like these are one of them. Quickly hopping on, he couldn't help but caress his new found transportation. But don't be fooled, he's still by far faster than this sparrow. It's the romance of it all, like cruising down the highway with a crotch rocket and feeling the wind. Leaning down, he put his hands on the throttles and his feet on the back placements where… well, you place your feet on in order to properly use a sparrow.

The Sparrows gravitational shenanigans is keeping itself and Zesreal afloat as his twist and turns. The sparrows themselves were able to move like a hovercraft. 

"Hahah! This is so cool!" Zesrael couldn't contain his excitement.

The spartans look over at the laughter, only to see the kid going around with a weird looking bike… that's floating. 

~Rustle~

~Rustle~

Suddenly, a marine not in standard uniform or gear walks up to the waiting spartans from the last few survivors just exiting the ramp from the spire. He was black and had one hell of a mustache, the kinda guy who knows what the ladies like. His strides were confident, not laced in it, more like molded by it. Along with it a smirk of untold experiences.

Sergeant Johnson, the one of the few remaining survivors of the spartan one project, "So, who's kid?" His voice was rugged, sounding like your typical military hardass.

"Who knows sir," Emile answered, starting up the warthog.

"Sir, we'll be moving to retrieve the last few life pods around here," Chief notified with a soldier's discipline.

"Aright spartan, don't go doing what I wouldn't do. Foehammer will be standing by for evac, just radio in," Johnson made his way to the still grounded pelican, not before giving the warthog a metaphorical slap on the ass.

Seeing the man leave, Six turns to Emile, "punch it."

"We aren't waiting for him?" Emile questioned.

"No time, the more we wait the higher the chances they'll be no survivors to rescue,"

—Chig!

—Chig!

"Like he said, punch it," Chief reinstated.

"There goes the questions out the window," Emile comments.

The warthog kicked up dirt as the tires spun. From zero to 60, they traversed the vast landscape of the Halo Ring. Zesrael, who completely forgot, quickly hit the gas just to catch up to them. The back of the sparrow lit up like a jet engine. Didn't take him long to travel side by side 

––––––––––––––

The ring was a solution, for the Forerunners at least. A weapon to wipe out organisms within the span of 25,000, at least if one is to be fired. If all seven were to be fired, everything within the galaxy would be annihilated.

Yet the rings themselves were a wonder to behold. Supporting entire ecosystems themselves, this place was no better than Earth– it functions just like a habitable planet. Though, through locked doors, it hid deeper secrets.

––––––––––––––

"High Admiral– Sir!"

An Imperial navy personal stood at attention, addressing the Lord High Admiral of the Retribution class battleship 'Dauntless Arrow.' They were in the bridge of this gothic hunk of metal.

"More ships of unknown origin are appearing as we speak, it appears this is the 'big one–' Sir!" The personnel reported.

"Good, keep me posted. You, any word by the Honored One?" The High Admiral commanded.

"No, sir."

"I see," he said dejectedly, "it seem we are to hold them for a bit longer– ship status?"

One of the people on the computers looked over at the Admiral, "60% and dropping for ammo reserves, void shields are holding but we're barely keeping ahead with our shield recharge speeds. Any more hits then we won't be able to recharge as fast as they hit us. Hull status is green, no boarding attempts, and engines are fully operational– Sir!"

"Keep me posted," the High Admiral nodded in acknowledgement.

The Admiral gazes out into the littered space from behind a window. Purple ships lay wasted while other Imperial ships fought under the Emperor's will. 

'By the Emperor, it will be done.'

––––––––––––––––

Back down to solid ground, Zesrael and company were riding to one of the nearby life pods; with Zesrael riding alongside the warthog. There, Six did most of the questioning.

Simply put, most of the questions were about him. Who he was, his objective– motive for being there, his skills, abilities. It's safe to say Zesrael didn't take the question seriously. He told them truths and half truths. But they were truths none of the spartans could even wrap their enhanced minds behind.

Don't take this the wrong way either, he told them truths in such a way where it's unbelievable. To him, he'd rather show than tell. He's not one to believe in words, and he doesn't expect that of others. These were his allies, they just don't know it yet. He'll just have to play the long game. Besides, the faces they'll make when they finally understand the truth of the matter… or maybe not as spartans rarely take their helmets off; the badass ones at least.

The questioning session didn't last long because of the answers, they just left it off as a kid being a kid. But one thing for certain, the kids are natural at taking life. Quite ironic for the son of existence– life itself to be taking others.

As the questions were short, so was the travel time before they stumbled across a foreign structure– at least for them. It led underneath the surface of the ring and it was metallic in making. Light blue light, almost neon in nature, pulsated in certain areas of the structure, like energon would within autobots or decepticons.

They rode within, Six and Chief locked and loaded with Emile ready to book it if needed… or jump out and provide cover; whichever of the two. Zesrael knew what was coming, yet he stayed chilling with no care. After all, why equip one gun when you can summon many that can carry multiple guns? Besides, I'm sure they're antsy at not being used often for the outside world.

Going through jumps and hallways that could fit a space marine dreadnought, they stopped just before a large entryway. Within laid a ramp ahead that looked to be connected to a bridge… only there was no bridge. The room itself was large with a chasm of unknown depth deep below. They could've just entered, but the problem lies within non–human bastards, loitering around.

There were many, at least five– eight squads worth of covenant personnel. Suppose they're using this as a checkpoint to stop any UNSC troops from crossing to the other side. They were heavily armed as well, sporting fuel rod cannons and a couple of shade turrets– the anti-personnel kind. But little did they know, the UNSC isn't the only thing they'll be fighting.

'This… is larger and more fortified than in the game I've played, as well as when I visited this world for the first time in my last life,' Zesrael contemplated in his head. He looks over at the spartans, 'Even they'll have a difficult time with this, time to bring in the cavalry… not quite literally thought, gotta save the Culling Riders for later. Two Chimeras with four Martyr Squads each and two commissars to accompany them would do.'

As Zesrael was thinking, the spartans weren't idling either. Cortana relayed the bridge controls to the three spartans. It was located at the right side of the room, they'll just have to look for a ramp to access it. Chief and Emile were running diversion with the warthog while Six was tasked to go on foot to find and activate the bridge. But there was a problem, by the time Six reaches and activates the bridge controls. The vehicle would more than likely be damaged– and that's thinking with optimism. With the covenant's firepower, the hog would be up in flames. Not to mention some high ranking elites indicated by their armor.

Their strategy meeting was cut to a halt as a menacing, warp–sounding noise, abruptly reverberated behind them. Looking back, tanks of unknown origin emerged from a large, dark portal– almost as if breaking, slicing two dimensions in two to connect them. The tanks grunted in anticipation as they rolled into this world. In the middle came a smaller, human–sized portal; and within came two individuals.

They wore peaked caps, a black/dark gray ornate trench coat with red outlines, stylish– gothic pants with stylized combat boots. They stood out, like a beacon.

"Didn't I tell ya?" Zesrael starts, catching the attention of the spartans, "I'm out of this world."

They watched as his cheeky– 'told you so–' smirk disappeared hovering over to the two men that just appeared. They couldn't tell a single word due to distance and sound, but they did see they treated him with respect; despite their noble appearance.

Speaking of noise, the covenant forces were on the move due to the chimeras. They went from leisure waiting to fortified positions. Good thing they were just outside of visual range.

Zesrael came back with the two commissars, walking side by side with Zesrael in between like bodyguards. The spartans took notice, opting to understand the situation before reacting– after all, Zesrael is still an enigma that can turn on them at any moment, even if his actions say otherwise.

"Hey–ya!" Zesrael greeted, "meet Ratibor Mae to my left and Dannabas Al Omi to my right. Both are commissars of the Forgotten Martyrs, my personal army in the making."

Ratibor Gave a nod of interest and space, opting to tolerate their existence. 

Dannabas on the other hand, "you call these augmented super soldiers? What a waste." He took a more hostile approach.

Ratibor side eyed Dannabas before focusing back on the so-called Spartans their honored one spoke of. 'I understand your feelings on the matter, but can't you be a bit more reserved?' Ratibor thought, disliking his comrades inability to read the situation.

Six and Chief clearly sensed the semi–hostile intent behind those words but chose to let it be for now, they have more dire matters then to squabble with Zesrael's higher officers if his words and intent were true. Emile though didn't like his tone, tightening his grip on his magnum. But he wasn't rash enough to pull a fast one on the guy, they do have armored support with some gnarly looking guns.

~Sigh~ "Ok, ok, you guys can settle your beef later– BUT absolutely no killing, just brain damage would do. We have more pressing matters that I want to get to first so duke it out at a later date," he looks at the spartans, "my men will serve as a distraction while you three go and do your thing to get that bridge operating– yeah? Good."

Zesarel didn't even wait before commanding his troops, "you two, get to your respective chimeras and lead them to cover our spartans. You are authorized to use all weapons if necessary, just don't damage too much of the area, we don't know how this place operates so its best to leave things as intact as possible; mother knows we need that bridge to cross."

"By your will," both accepted their task in unison. They returned with confident strides back to their chimeras, making sure to let each sergeant know their mission details.

Back with the spartans and Zesrael, "How bout you guys? Are you willing to trust your back to me and my men again?"

"I'll shoot you again if you do anything funny," Emile was the first to acknowledge his trust.

––Clack!

––Click!

"Ready Zesrael… I can call you Zesreal right?" Six questioned, gazing straight into Zesrael's violet eyes with no fear.

Zes smiles, "You can."

Six looks back at the gunner, "Chief?"

He rolls his shoulders as he looks ahead toward the covenant forces, or at least the corner that would lead to them, "Emile, make way for the––"

"Martyrs, just call them Martyrs," Zesrael interrupts.

"Martyrs… we'll get it done so they won't be."

"Ha," Zes chuckles, "Trust me, they can take a beating."

—Snap!

With a snap of a raised finger, the two chimera's rode with ruthlessness intent. As they passed the spartans and Zesrael, the boy got on his sparrow and sped past the chimeras as he angles himself along the wall for there's no room in between the two transport vehicles. 

From the covenant's perspective, two large armored vehicles in gray pattern coloring turned a corner to face them from the tunnel entrance. As they did, the enhanced multilaser began to quell any and all alien bastards– the chimera's tracks hadn't stopped moving either, moving forward with zeal. The covenant fired back, especially the heavy equipment operators like the fuel rods or shade turrets. But their expected results weren't found as the green ball of destruction was instead repelled back towards the one that fired them– return to sender.

Every energy based firearm was repelled by a dome– large enough to cover the entire vehicle. It was violet in color and had a hexagon-like pattern whenever it pulsed to send the projectiles back. Before the chimeras could exit the tunnel opening to angle themselves for their hull guns to fire, Zesrael came flying along the side of the tunnel. His coat fluttered in the wind.

As soon as he came to view, a few of the covenant infantrymen fired upon the additional threat, thinking it was a leader of sorts. They were right but sadly, the sparrow was too fast for them to land a proper hit as all their shots landed behind him. With his excellent driving skills, Zesrael jerked right to ramp himself off the ceiling.

Coming out of the tunnel, the chimeras veered left or right from their respective positions– as if fanning out. The doors from the rear of the vehicle dropped, revealing the first appearance of the Martyr Squad to the outside world. One squadron from both chimeras' exited the vehicle and took cover behind the chimera– firing for effect as they moved. Grunts and jackals were short work for the Martyrs, burning holes with their lasguns.

A shade turret just off from the main battle had a clear shot of the troops taking cover behind the chimeras'. A jackal manning the gun squeezed the trigger, thoughts clear with imagined slaughter of Zesrael's troops. A plasma Martyr saw too from the corner of her, only a little too late as the plasma bolts made contact with her. Thankfully, the troopers had the same shielding technology– P.R.T or Projectile Repellent Tech– as the chimeras'. But, unlike unmoving iron, the Martyr had to hunkerdown to take the bolts as the first few shots made her slide on her feet– indicating the strength of each bolt.

The jackal stopped shooting as reality differed from their imagined outcome. It was a mistake on its part as the Martyr took this chance to buckle down and aim her plasma gun.

––Pfvvvimp–Paahh!

The Martyr recoiled back from her shot as a big ball of plasma shot out of the gun. She must've had the power output on max– the shade turret's explosion stipulated that possibility. As the jackal screams in igni, others fared a better end as each individual Martyr was a marksman no other Imperial Guard regiment can compare– with the exception of the vindicare assassin and space marine legions and whatnot– head shots were a common occurrence in this engagement.

Back to Zesrael; from midair he landed on top an elite minding his business. Crashing into it, Zesrael didn't let up as he jerked upward, pointing the front of the sparrow up as much as he could without tipping over and letting the sparrow's engine burn the elite below him as he cranked the engine to max. The grunts and some jackals flee in fear seeing their squad leader writhe in pain from the heat of the sparrows jet–like engines.

Deciding it was enough, Zesrael planted his feet on the seat of the sparrow before jumping, propelling him sideways from a normal, standing view. Equipped with his chain knife fit for his small stature, he ripped and tore his way across the small skirmish. He made sure to only use a fraction of his strength and skills to make things more interesting. Doging covenant projectiles with only a centimeter between his skin/clothing and the projectile itself; all with a smile on this face.

The hull guns were manned by the second squad from their respective chimera's. These powerdynes destroyed any resemblance of cover any of the covenant forces would use, kind of forgetting the fact that Zesrael wanted the place as intact as possible. But even so, each shot lowered morale they never thought possible. Elite shielding technology didn't stand a chance as one shot would take half their torso clean off– no mess, just a burnt waist with their legs and feet still intact, standing. The jackal shields didn't fare a second better than the elite personal shields… and grunts shouldn't even be mentioned at this point.

Lastly, the commissars sat with half their bodies exposed through a top hatch atop their chimera's. They gave words of inspiration… no– words of devastation and increased zealotry to their men. See, these commissars weren't trained to keep men in line like your typical commissars or trained to keep kriegsman from killing themselves in a hopeless charge for the God Emperor himself. These were like the bards of this universe– not in the way of music or charisma– but in the ways of silver tongue. 

Zesreal thought it funny to have his commissars be rage induced insult machines. Each word was like a string being strum by a bard, giving inspiration to their allies while demoralizing any unfortunate enough to hear their cries of insults,

"THE BEST PART OF YOU RAN DOWN YOUR MOTHER'S LEG YOU DAMNED SPLIT-CHINNED, SQUID-HEADED SONS OF BITCHES!"

"YOU SHORT FUCKS LOOK LIKE A MEATBALL THAT HAD SEX WITH AN EVEN UGLIER MEATBALL– ME KILLING YOU IS DOING EVERYONE A DAMNED SERVICE YOUR MAMA SHOULD'VE SWALLOWED INSTEAD!"

"A DEAD XENO IS A GOOD XENO. PURGING YOU IS A MERCY UPON YOUR MISBEGOTTEN KIND!"

"NOT EVEN THIS PERSONAL LASER SURGERY CAN FIX THE FACE A MOTHER CAN NEVER LOVE– DAMN YOU'RE UGLY!"

"YOUR MAMA!"

——————

The writer is concerned he might get banned for this, but for the sake of writing this story, he pushes on.

"Pfft, this is sounding like a COD lobby. Only without the racist insults; all in all, pretty family friendly," Anastasia quips.

"He's back at it again isn't he?" Mortis sighs in disbelief.

——————

The scariest part, their combat effectiveness never dwindled. In fact, they had this sadistic kind of smile no friend would wish upon their enemy. Seems to those that took note– even Zesrael who's a bit dumbfounded by their actions– had one thing in mind: the chimera is the only thing between certain annihilation and extinction upon the covenant forces, or maybe even race if left to their own devices.

As the chimera's, Martyr Squads, commissars, and Zesrael himself were keeping the covenant forces busy, the spartans quickly rode their warthog towards the bridge controls. Chief layed hate upon grunts, elites, and jackals on top of the machine gun. Setting the truck in an ideal place, Emile dismounted along with Six. Six sprinted– gun up and trigger finger ready to squeeze. He ran towards the bridge control or at least the ramp that led up to it. 

Chief made sure Six was covered while Emile made sure no stray covie would get even an inch closer to the man with the big gun. 

Coming up on the ramp he was met with resistance. Two grunts, three jackals, and two elites. He made short work of the grunts with two small bursts of his MA37– popping their heads like grapes. The jackals were a nuisance considering they had shields. But before he could do anything, The elites and said jackals returned fire with plasma rifles/pistols. He couldn't dodge them all as his shield flashed red as his suit produced a warning sound of an imminent shield break– one more shot then it's his Mjolnir's titanium-based material keeping him from certain death. 

Taking cover from one of the nearby pillars, he let his shield recharge. With a slight thought, he grabbed one of his frag grenades and pulled the pin before no-looking the toss towards the hostile group. But before it can explosive,

—Klishhh!

A blue, two-pronged, sword of energy invigorated itself before him– raised by an invisible enemy a head or two taller than Six. On instinct, Six jammed the butt of his gun to what would be considered the lower chest of the sangheili. The elite was pushed back evident by the flailing of its energy sword and the slight distortion of the light in front of Six. The elite was revealed as its cloaking device had a slight malfunction upon the impact of the blow.

Six, calm in mind yet tensed in adrenaline, raised his weapon in clear intent. Yet before he could even squeeze the trigger

—Ding—Ding–Ding–Ding–Din-din-din-din-ding!

The sangheili was ripped apart by a volley of machine gun fire Chief was manning. Six looked over a Chief, he was already laying fire upon another group of covenant strike teams. Taking his example, he leaned out to peak only to see his current adversaries disheveled and unorganized. Guess he didn't even hear the blast from his own frag.

Quickly equipping the energy sword to his magnetic holster from the now-soup-like elite, he dashed towards the recovering elites and jackals– not being shy with using the MA37 as Six shreds the elites shields. While one was being suppressed by a hail of lead, the other recovered and returned fired. Six dipped and dodged until he was in close proximity– shield two thirds depleted upon arrival.

But he didn't think much of it as he holstered his assault rifle on his back to switch to his magnum. In quick succession, he dealt with the shield jackals– at least stunned them for a couple more seconds by shooting their armed hands. By that time, the elite that was shooting him opted for grab only to be counted by a leg sweep, making the sangheili fall on his ass. The other elite that was bullied by Six had to do something to help their situation, but nothing came to mind as Six delivered a concussion by way of the reversed grip on his magnum, hitting the elite straight at its temple with the pistol grip of the M4D Magnum.

Not forgetting the downed elite, he used his free hand to equip the energy sword on his hip. No swinging or stabbing motion needed as all he had to do was point and activate, piercing the elite skin and armor. The dead elite gave no sound or a reactive groan. It just stared in the visor of its killer.

Six shifts and ducked as he spun under the other elites' swing. His reactive dodge brought him behind the elite, of which he swiftly brought the base of his boot behind the knee of the elite, forcing the elite to get on its knee. To finish it off, Six brought his plasma sword back only to jam it straight through the elite's chest. He took it out quickly, not wasting time. He looked at the disarmed jackals– he shot them out of their misery. Switching back to the MA37– reloading it– he ran up and turned a corner.

—Wham!

A mean left hook came out of nowhere. Six recoiled, his recovered shield depleted back to not even a fraction left. Another stealth sangheili. Recovering, he was greeted with yet another display of a horizontally swinging energy sword. 

"Duck!"

Six did as the familiar voice instructed and ducked.

—Bang!

—Cha!

—Chik!

A direct shotgun blast at point blank range sent the elite blenching back in pain as its shield broke. Six took this chance to propel himself up, landing a hard knee to its stomach. But he wasn't done as he stepped hard on its shoulder, back flipping upward. Locked on, Six sprayed his MA37 as he landed behind the person that assisted him.

It was Noble Four. He watched as the elite still stood upon a hail of bullets. Not even using his main weapon, he just quickly fired from his hip using his magnum. Showing spartan marksmenship, he delivered a critical headshot, finally ending the elite. Six strode past him– gun reloaded– giving him an approving nod.

Zesreal's forces were tasked to act as a distraction, but Zesrael forgot to reevaluate his troops against the covenant forces– even himself. By the time Six and Four activated the bridge and returned to the warthog, the spartans were left with the sight of seeing soldiers looting everything from the dead bodies and tossing them to a portal near Zesrael. As for the kid himself, he was laying down on his sparrow with an ice cream on hand.

Riding the warthog close to him, the spartans dismounted and walked with discipline toward Zesrael.

The kid sat right up, legs dangling and swinging on the side of the sparrow. A blissful face as he enjoys his cream cheese ice cream.

"Mm– you can– Mm– you can go ahead of us– Mm– this is so good– right um, we'll be staying here looting our share of the fight. Enjoy rescuing the marines and what not," Zesrael said in between savoring the ice cream.

~Sigh~ "Will do as you suggested, right Chief?" Six answered for the group. He looks at Chief for confirmation.

Chief gave a silent nod.

"Alright let's mount up then," Emile stated. Chief and Six did so before him, Six riding shotgun and the big man on the big gun.

"After this is all done, we deserve some answers– especially why you're helping us," with that said, Emile hopped on the driver seat– turning the engine on and rode on the bridge made of light– blue in color.

The warthog no longer in view, the two commissars stood at attention. Zes just nods at them, then gestures towards the portal with a smile. 'A job well done' simply put. The commissars were delighted in knowing they accomplished what they were tasked to do– no casualties at that too… even annihilated the opposing forces as well. Completely obliterated the task given actually.

With their job done, all that's left is to loot the spoils for the victor– them– then head home to recover, rebuild, upgrade, expand, and defend. All for the sake of the next battle, hopefully a grand one. This was their first debut in a world not their own– not in Zesrael's personal space at least. To be fighting alongside the Honored One, what a splendid feeling.

Zesrael watched in earnest interest as his soldiers worked and headed home. He was gauging them as he did all the times he fought alongside them. Seeing potential weaknesses, strengths that can be further honed. This was too little a battle against a foe they've surpassed in body and mind alone. But just because they're better doesn't mean they can't go further beyond. Stagnation is an enemy everyone constantly fights; and he won't let people under him stagnate– not ever.

Seeing the last of his forces leave– finishing up his last ice cream he got using the free shit tokens– he decided to mount up properly as well and continue assisting the three spartans.

––––––––––––––

The Spartans decided to split up. Six took to the nearest lifepod Cortana marked for him, Chief had the furthest one, and Emile with the warthog took the middle of the two in terms of distance in comparison. 

Zesrael followed the usual path the game had designed, already knowing his three buddies– soon to be buddies– had temporarily parted ways to save time. Six and Chief he isn't worried about. Six was originally a lone wolf and Chief… well his name speaks for itself. Not to undermine Noble Four, but he can get a little… carried away. Thankfully, Zes has the right support options in mind. 

Admiring the hilly plains with nearby rocky mountains; a small stream– a healthy marathon of water– going up and down the small hills before him. As he admired the scenery, a couple portals appeared behind him. Some big, some small, some even in the sky.

Starting up high, five portals– stacked, two up top and three below. Imperium aircraft zoomed through as they flew above the landscape– no doubt spotted by the covenant forces nearby. They flew in formation: two Lightnings up top and a Marauder Bomber with two Thunderbolts on either side.

Lightning, the reconnaissance fighter of the Aeronautic Imperialis. Faster of the two mentioned aircrafts, these sported two Lascannons and a center mounted Autocannon. Its other possible armaments would be two center and four wing mounted Hellstrike Missiles– suited for ground support. But these Lightnings didn't support either of these. Although they were more suited for air to air combat, they didn't have Lascannons or the mounted Autocannon; instead, they were replaced with two powerdynes of the larger kind, the kind that can make heavily armored vehicles into soup. Just below their wings had fully automated turrets aimed towards the back. Intended use: fire upon incoming missiles… maybe even target the one dog fighting the aircraft.

The other pair would be the Thunderbolt heavy fighter; the main fighter and intended air superiority fighter for the Aeronautic Imperialis. Sporting two, synced-up laser cannons, four autocannons, as well as the option to carry guided missiles or unguided rockets– not to mention small amounts of light bombs. But of course, they didn't have that. Four machine guns from EDF. Explosive tipped, and by way of research, corrosive in nature. Meaning when hit, a corrosive chemical spreads throughout the target, quickly weakening the armor or poisoning flesh. Two rail guns replaced the laser cannons and corrosive unguided rockets replaced the normal rockets they usually came with. 

Finally, the lone Marauder Bomber. Specialized in bombing runs– as its namesake– didn't have an outstanding amount of guns; but bombs… let's just say the Americans will be happy with the amount of ordnance this thing can carry. This one is equipped with two pairs of powerdynes and rail guns. Rail guns for protection and powerdynes if the pilot feels frisky.

All these aircrafts had gifts similar to the ships up above. Gifts like rapid fire and better flight capabilities were some of the words used to strengthen the aircraft. As for the tech– it'll take a lot of shots just to deplete their P.R.T.– and that's just the slim tip of the iceberg of their technological extremes– and that's not getting into their pilots.

[This is Hybrid 1, sound off!] the squadron leader ordered over vox channels, her voice distorted in mechanical– almost robotic nature, barely able to distinguish her feminine voice.

[Hybrid 2, all green!]

[Hybrid 3, good to be flying under blue skies again]

H1 [Jackie!]

H3 [Sorry! Hybrid 3 good to go!]

[Hybrid 4, situated]

[Hybrid 5, all fired up]

H1 [All systems green. Honored One, we are yours to command.]

Zes smiles as the Hybrid squadron flies by, "Good– here's the sitrep: larger than predicted forces were located in the area just south of here. I'm led to believe that would be the same in these remaining areas– sending you the locations," he pauses, sending them the location and details of the terrain in the op area, "your mission: support the three spartans and the lifepod survivors anyway you can. All weapons free, purge at your heart's content."

[Your will be done!] x5

The thunderous roar of the sky left a lasting impression upon the growing boy. Seeing disciplined aircrafts fly in formation towards their designated area of operation will always be cool as shit.

The Earth– or in this case– Ring quakes as a deafening bellow of dignified yet violent growls of Imperium ingenuity sprawls out behind Zesrael, prompting him to smile even more. Three Lemon Blacks supported by some Martyrs rolled out of the portal. Guns engaged and ready much to their disappointment on not being deployed straight to the battlefield. Besides them cruised in Hydra Flak Tanks escorted by some Wardens and Heavy Weapons teams– already entrenching themselves in fortified positions; strategic, to be sure. Lastly, the king of battle arrived in the form of tank treads and one big cannon. The Basilisk– or Earthshakers– were modified much to everything else in Zesrael's army. It still had the 132 millimeter gun as its main weapon, but the range has improved from 9.3 miles (15 kilometers) to 12.4 miles (20 kilometers) and being able to fire rounds with a fraction of the Requiem gun. 

"Earthshakers, I'm sending you live feed from our air fighters as well as coordinates of Op Area. Open fire but make sure to not hit friendlies– danger close," Zesarel barked over the vox channel.

[Sir!]x5

"Good, crack the very ground them xeno bastards walk on!" he changes channels, "Wardens and Heavy Teams, your task is to prevent any potential enemy forces from engaging our mobile artillery. Use any means to do so."

[Sir!]x13

"Good, Martyr squads, support your designated tank. Don't let hostiles get even an inch closer to them."

[Sir!]x6

"Lastly, Leman Blacks provide support for the Spartans and survivors. Show them real firepower!"

[Sir!]x3

Zesrael stretches as all units have been given orders. A satisfied smile on his face, 'I wonder how they'll react?'

––––––––––––––

~Sigh~

~Heump~

Six vaulted over a rock just below his waist; assault rifle raised mid vault– blind firing as he lands. Six was currently situated in a firefight that's keeping him from rendezvousing with the marines held up in between the rocks. 

As the terrain stands, Six was currently near the entryway. The area was enclosed by tall mountainous rocks comparable to sky-scrapers. Between the entryway and the far end of the enclosed space where the various rocks were was a decent sized– ruined plain. Ruined by the cause of the lifepod crash landing and leaving a long line of up-turned dirt, flattening the green landscape it once were. The lifepod in question was to the right if one were to look from the entryway. It sparked once in a while; the doors charred and some plating missing; wires exposed to the world. Some UNSC weaponry lay about near the lifepod.

The task was difficult but not impossible, this is where he originated: alone… and hunting; as for his prey, dozens of well equipped covenant forces scattered and entrenched, pinning the survivors ever so further back into a corner. At least that was how it was before he opened fire. With a couple bursts, a pair of elites no longer had shields; six finished them off with a quick switch to his side arm before using his MA37 again. Using the entirety of his half-filled mag, he dumped the rest to pin down a shielded jackal that was charging its plasma pistol to max– turning its shield red.

––Click!

Empty, Six ejected the magazine. The jackal took advantage of the opportunity to fire its fully charged plasma pistol. But the jackal lowered its shield just to fire the damned thing– of which Six turned that simple mistake into a lethal error.

With the mag on hand, he threw it with all his might. Given his augmented strength beyond normal human standards, a fully metal magazine thrown by a spartan with malicious intent was no better than a lethal projectile.

––Donk!

The jackal recoiled its head back– its charged shot released, but given the disoriented state of the jackal, Six didn't even move as the charge shot zips past him.

"Wort wort wort!"

The charge shot hit a young elite further back near the lifepod– disabling its shield. Six didn't even bother to look back as he leaned forward– magnum on hand– right arm extended behind him and squeezed the trigger. The sangheili dropped dead, a hole on its head. Holstering his sidearm, he dashed toward the still disoriented jackal– its arm shield on cooldown as it held its head. Just as its vision cleared, the daylight was blocked by a giant, metal boot.

––Wham!

A well delivered spartan kick to the dome. But just before the jackal was out of reach from the initial blow, Six grabbed the flailing ragdoll mid air– pulled it in– released his grip on its leg once close– then with that same hand, he balled his fist and drove a fist-like hammer downward at its ugly mug. 

––Splat

His fist was covered in blue goo– the alien's disgusting blood. Its head no more, body limp and still.

"Pozole!"

Sadly Six couldn't relish in the feeling as more and more covenant forces fired upon him. A sangheili warrior shouting out doesn't help either– but to be fair, this entire interaction between killing three elites and a jackal in the middle of a hot zone wasn't subtle either– the standard assault rifle and magnum is exactly quiet either. 

Thinking quickly, Six combat rolled forward– grabbing the jackal shield mid roll– and followed through with a dive. The dug up dirt from the crashed lifepod formed a really small trench Six could use. That he did as he landed belly first; the elevated first barely covered his body.

Equipping and tinkering with the jackal shield, he managed to get it working amongst the plasma rounds going over his head. He peaked over just enough to get a glimpse of the group shooting him.

[Keep your head down spartan, we've got a little surprise for your little friends down there.] Hybrid 3 communicated over coms.

[Same goes for you guys entrenched in rocks right now– danger close, don't you dare move forward unless you got a death wish] Hybrid 5 warned with a tinge of excitement over coms.

Six gazed up from his position, he could hear aircraft of sorts– none he was familiar with. It didn't take long for them to come into view. Two slick aircrafts came diving in– nose pointed down– aim straight and true.

—Vwaaaaaaaaa-mp!

Both aircrafts fired their powerdynes with no restraint– burned through flesh and material with ease. If the odds were ten to one stacked against Six and the marines and other personnel, that one strafing run brought it down to two to one– still in the covenants favor. Six peaked over again– eyebrows raised at the carnage they did. He looked over at the jets again, they were currently peeling off, heading to the other crash sights– he'd guess, mainly due to the marker the spartans place to the three locations in courtesy of Cortana.

"Mayboia!"

No rest for the wicked as the remaining opposition slowly recovered from the devastating strafing run, one they could have never anticipated nor countered even if they knew.

Not wasting a single moment given by the unknown… well, known fighters now as he can make an educated guess. Shield on one arm and a magnum on another, it was time to save the survivors.

——————

Off into a smaller world, one residing inside Zesarel Loren, a green haired boy lies in waiting– waiting to recover from his depleted form. Taking the brunt of the unexplainable consequences of inhabiting a new timeline with a damaged physical shell and an even more damaged soul takes a toll on higher beings. But he was getting there. Above seventy percent now, shouldn't take long than a couple more experiences Zesrael has to go through for him to revive. 

There are faster ways of recovering, one being experiencing existence himself instead of getting the filtered version through Zes. But for that to happen, Zes has to die. There can only be one person taking the reins of a hollow shell– one at a time. Even so, he can't do such a thing to his brother. Besides, his mom Mortis sped up the process during the family reunion, that's why it's seventy percent– or above it at least.

For now, Salael lay in a comfortable white bed surrounded by a veil of darkness. A peaceful, gentle smile lay plastered on his face as he sleeps. Salael Loren, son of Mortis Loren by way of creation through Anastasia Loren. A never before seen singularity now born and growing anew into this timeline. How his existence weaves the fates of others… an intriguing curiosity of which lays no answer too; at least for now.

——————

│

| Name: Zesrael Loren | Age: 7 | Gender: Male | Race: ??? | Lvl: 110|

| Title(s): The Ever Chosen￤Chosen Warmaster of 40k |

| Skill(s): Inventory￤Fusion￤Free Shit￤Omni Travel￤Personal Dimension￤Summoner+￤Language of the Chosen￤Vorpal Rampage￤Psionic Dread Pilot+￤Death Toll ￤Masterwork Genetic/Item Fabrication/Utilization￤Pain Motivator |

| Item(s): Chain Bolter (RWBY modification)￤Nano-Pilot suit (Hunter's Clothes)|

| Stats: | Stat Points: 21|

––––––––––––––

Plot Armor: 355.5

Free Shit: 29

––––––––––––––

│

│

22x Martyr Squads

9x Wardens

7x Ogryns

11x Heavy Weapons Teams

Command Squad

Vindicare

3x Techpriest Enginseer

4x Culling Riders

3x Martyr Snipers

10x Commissars 

––––––––––––––

13x Chimera

7x Leman Black

5x Basilisk

2x Lightning

2x Thunderbolt

1x Marauder Bomber

6x Sentinels

3x Hellhounds

2x Hydra Flak Tank

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