Chapter (37) To what Do I Owe The Pleasure? (7)

[Before we begin 2 things:

First I have finished Silent Storm. Was a great read and extremely enjoyable. I also have a question after reading the end... What is everyone's thoughts on Nuclear Devices?

Second I am thinking of doing a Question of the Day at the beginning of some chapters to gauge thoughts about things to implement. So I will start with one today and if you want them to continue respond if not don't comment.

Question of the day: What is everyone's favorite campaign mission. Doesn't matter which game. Mine is a tie between The Truth and Reconciliation(CE), Nightfall (Reach), and The Covenant (Halo 3).

Without Further Ado...]

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(3rd Pov)

"Targets Eliminated," spoke a male voice through the TACCOM to the small number of remaining UNSC forces. The origin of the voice was a decently sized jet aircraft painted black loitering at a lower speed flying in circles around the battlefield. The craft was somewhat damaged due to the small arms plasma damage that was unavoidable. The airfoils had many portions where the metal was melted and had become soft and vulnerable. The body had similar scorch marks that were masked by the black paint, and all in all the craft was still suitable for flight albeit, still in need of repairs.

(Author's note: I have been misnaming the COM channels so imma start doing it correctly now)

The lone plane in the sunsetting sky looked down upon a ravaged metropolis. Below the man in the jet was pure destruction, there were little to no buildings standing and the roads that once went through the city like the veins in a body were barely visible. The streets were covered in the rubble of demolished buildings or what little remained of the enemies defeated by the pilot.

From an aerial view, it was clear to see where the man had been dispensing his lead death. His actions left no survivors, and even if there were none would be foolish enough to peek their heads out.

It was clear to see where the man had traveled in his path of havoc. The city with a portion of its buildings still standing had what appeared to be a hole where nearly nothing had survived his onslaught of carnage. It seemed as if the city was a sentence and the man had erased nearly half of the words inside the sentence.

"Good hits Warthog One," A woman in red power armor replied glad to see that there were no survivors from the jet's strafing runs.

"Roger that. I am at Bingo Spartan-023, so I am afraid this is where my air assistance ends," said the male pilot with resignation in his voice.

"Solid Copy, Warthog One thanks for the assist. I owe you one," said the red-armored spartan with a small amount of melancholy.

As Warthog One began to pull back to F.O.B. X-ray he turned on his com one last time to give advice to the Spartan, "From what I can see up here you guys are free to pull out. Nothing on the ground and I am picking up nothing in the air. So it should be fine for you to regroup with the forces in Gamma One,"

"Roger that," said the red-armored woman before she turned to her companion on the roof, "Go get your friend. We are pulling back," The marine nodded and quickly turned to begin making his way back down into the bowels of the building. The red Spartan gave one last look over the crumbling scene before doing the same.

In response, the pilot took one last glance as well and began accelerating his aircraft. The low roar began to increase in volume as it rocketed away.

It flew over the scarred land, the ground was battered and trashed from firefights. Scorch marks littered the crust, the ongoing conflict's signature. Villages and rural areas lay silent and dormant without their occupants. Along the environment, there was an eerie silence that had been adopted since a week ago. No longer were there the chirping of birds or crickets, fireflies no longer filled the early evening air, and the common chatter of people's conversations had gone quiet all around the world. The only remaining sounds were the sporadic distant gunfire and the pitter-patter of the ever-increasing quantity of rain caused by the Covenant's glassing.

Among the silent countryside and cityscapes were countless scenes in which UNSC forces had been annihilated by overwhelming Covenant forces. In each of these scenes, however, one could note there were more Covenant corpses than there were humans. UNSC army green and steel gray were mixed with the Covenant's purple and blue bleeding together and sharing the same fate. Above the new tombs, the plane flew unfettered by the scenes below not dissimilar to a crow that soared above ancient battlefields that have long passed.

Eventually, the crow made it back to its nest safe and sound. The wheels of the landing gear hit the pavement rolling before coming to an eventual stop on the blacktop of the asphalt paved runway. Seeing the new arrival technicians began gathering gear and exiting the hangar approaching the aircraft.

The pilot sat in the cockpit as the ground crew came to check the status of him and his plane. He sighed in relief and gave a content smile. He prayed in gratitude that he had lived to see the end of another mission and that he will have another tomorrow.

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(Mc Pov)

I had made it

I could finally get out of my eagle after completing my mission successfully. The mission was worrisome, to say the least, I have to be honest I had my balls in my throat when Warthog Two went down. I was even more nervous internally when those AA guns began spooling, firing white-hot plasma at me. It would have taken only a couple of those heavy plasma bolts to ground me.

Permanently

"Atta girl. Thanks for trying so hard. You can rest now," I said with a thankful smile underneath my helmet as I patted the stick that was right in front of my seat.

Pulling off my harnesses I pulled the canopy release lever and got ready to exit the cockpit. Slowly the glass windows rose up before locking itself in a vertical upright position behind my seat. The ladder used to climb in and out of the cockpit also jutted out sluggishly and I began to climb down with my uniform still on though I had already turned off VISR mode on my helmet.

Once I had reached the bottom of the ladder I hopped off and landed on the ground with both feet. I patted myself off like I was covered in dirt or ash. I took one last look at the Eagle and was about to make my way to the hangar when a technician called out to me.

"Damn Lieutenant you really ran the shit out of this one didn't you?" said the technician as he came up to me ducking under the wing after looking at the right fuselage.

I tilted my head indicating I was confused and asked, "What do you mean?". He motioned for me to come closer to where he was standing by the fuselage. I reluctantly made my way over there and once beside him, he pointed to a small discolored patch on the wing. It seemed to be part of the area hit by a plasma bolt, but there seemed to be no severe damage in the area.

I again looked at him confused as to what he was trying to point out. He looked at me with a wry expression and sighed. When he was done sighing he applied pressure to the damaged spot. I at that point was enlightened to the 'problem' he pointed out, and my heart sank at the realization.

*drip*

*drip*

*drip

It seemed that the fuselage had been damaged by plasma because the second his hand applied pressure to the metal it buckled in and small fractured crack-like holes appeared. Fuel leaked somewhat through those holes and dripped onto the ground by our feet. All of this meant that had I taken one more plasma bolt in the fuselage at best I would have ejected due to loss of fuel. At worst my fuel would have caught fire and blown up along with any of the other munitions stuffed inside my plane.

"You are one lucky pilot," said the technician shaking his head at the damage. I decided to play it cool and shrug in response. Luckily, I had a helmet on otherwise they would see how pale I was looking at the almost certain death I had escaped.

After sharing a couple more words with the technician it became clear that my Eagle wasn't going to be cleared for any more air attacks. The ground crew decided to stow it in the hangar for the time being stating they would take it apart and send it back up to 'The Reliant' once they get a chance. I felt a little happy hearing that my Eagle wasn't going to be scrapped and smiled as I made my way to a transport shuttle that took me to get situated aboard the 'Heart of Midlothian'.

…

..

.

Once aboard the DD-366 the UNSC 'Heart of Midlothian' a Halberd class Light Destroyer I was escorted to an area with restricted access hidden in the heart of the ship. The room appeared to be a large lab with many electrical wires coming down from the ceiling leading to various devices in the room and a couple for the specific item I saw to the left after entering but I will get to that later.

On the right, there was a large screen that was similar to a large flat-screen tv from my past life. Though there seemed to be a camera capturing the room if I was correct in my assumption that I had spotted a lens on the bottom of the monitor. Beside the lens was a red light that was blinking…

"Who's watching?" I asked aloud in general, hoping to get an answer from one of the many white lab-coated individuals.

Who answered me wasn't someone I expected. Appearing on a pedestal a pink hologram appeared depicting an elderly Asian woman in traditional Chinese garb. She wore a kind expression appearing to be something like a grandmother. She turned towards me and answered, "Someone who has the necessary clearance Spartan A-312 'Ace',"

I turned my head towards her with my eyes narrowing under my helmet, "I see," I paused before deciding to try and get more information, "And who has decided to watch me get dressed? Mrs..?"

She nodded her head as she spoke "I am the artificial intelligence Mo Ye, service number MOY 0279-3. You may just call me Mo, Spartan Ace," she then looked up into my helmet, "As for the answer to your first question I am afraid the person watching has asked me not to disclose who it is yet. She will be having a conversation with you after we finish getting you into your suit, so you may ask her for her reasons," she replied with a kind smile.

(AI Mo Ye)

My eyes practically turned into slits after hearing the word 'she'. There was only one 'she' that I know about who is connected to MJOLNIR, and I really would rather not talk to that bitch. Especially with how Ackerson has probably provoked her into seeing who and what I am for herself.

"Very well Mo. Let's not keep our guest waiting and go ahead and get this thing on," I said turning to the metal power armor to my left, "That's the spirit" replied Mo Ye with the same smile on her face.

I slowly walked to the left and the armor came fully into view. The armor looked nice. It was in gunmetal gray unlike the army green commonly seen in the other versions of this armor. It was slim yet bulky with a broad chest that mirrored my body style perfectly. The visor of the helmet was a honey-colored visor. On the right pauldron was an emblem with an Elite skull covering two swords and a shield, which made up the HeadHunter insignia for the Cat-2 Spartan-IIIs. The final thing to note was that on the lower left chest plate was '312' painted on in bold white numbers.

(Mark IV Mjolnir)

Taking off my helmet for the first time today I breathed in the fresh air no longer filtered through my helmet. I took a deep breath filling my lungs and placed my helmet on a table placed for me to take off my gear. Then I began to strip. (Author's note: I am watching you motherfuckers)

…

..

.

After what felt like a couple of hours of adjustments. I finally had my own Mjolnir Mark IV armor on and my helmet was still off and I was slowly getting a feel for the armor. I had gone through simulations prior so that the transition would be seamless but no simulation can prepare someone for the real thing.

I was getting used to the feeling of being put into a suit that weighs half of a ton (453.6 kilograms). Don't get me wrong the suit is probably the most comfortable thing that I have ever worn, it feels almost like an outer layer of skin almost as if it was always part of my body and wasn't just something added on like clothing. As I was firmly gripping my fist feeling the Mjolnir suit flex with my muscles I didn't notice how all of the laboratory staff had made their way and exited the room.

Of course, had I known that I would have left myself and escaped the one who shall not be named.

"How do you like my armor, Spartan A-312?" asked a somewhat older female voice coming from the tv that I had pointed out earlier. The voice was calm but calculating and carried a deal of intelligence in every word expressed. The sound of the voice was similar to Miranda and that information was all I needed to know to conclude that I was in for a long conversation.

Looking up then slowly blinking and looking at the screen out of the corner of my eye I spoke, "It's a beautiful piece of equipment, ma'am," I then picked up my helmet and placed it under my arm as I got closer to the screen.

"Now, to what do I owe the pleasure Mrs-?"

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Cliff hanger strikes again MUAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA. Anyway sorry again that this chapter was late I have been busy with a lot of stuff.

So yeah I finished Silent Storm if you want to talk about it drop a comment I guess. I will say one of the things I learned from the book is that ODSTs are still canon fodder in front of a Covenant force, so The Rookie is a ABSOLUTE DEMON for what he did in Halo 3.

Anyway if you have any questions drop them.

No song of the day instead listen to the New Avenged Sevenfold album "Life is but a dream..." and the new Foo Fighters album "But Here We Are"

Anyway I hope everyone has a blessed evening and Saturday and I will See You Star Side