Chapter One: Lost
Damon opened his eyes and groaned in pain as the sensation itself swept across his body, like a tsunami. He had no idea what in god’s name had happened- to a certain extent. His mind was spinning, and his head ached. A midday ambush or elimination seemed hardly fair. Covenant used plasma technology and plasma was hot, the only thing he remembered before the sudden blackness was the extra-ordinary heat, he didn’t know what a supernova felt like but he thought it would be easily compared to one of those. He figured what did all of this damage to his former ‘home away from home’ may have been a stray plasma torpedo, or possibly one directed at the New Mombasa Military Base to eliminate the defensive forces; with Spirits following to eliminate the strays.
They all must’ve thought that Damon was dead, for he and several dead corpses were the only ones left at the Military base. He looked around, the lifeless bodies. Several of their eyes empty with death; they seemed to stare at him. Damon felt uneasy and sick all of a sudden. One of them, he noticed; was his best friend; Lucas. Half of his face was missing and both of his legs were but black stumps, burned off by plasma.
Whatever had been in Damon’s stomach was on the concrete in a matter of seconds. He had thrown up and some of it happened to land on his shirt sleeve. Damon’s head continued to spin but he slowly rose to his feet. Grunting with the effort and, the effort had been caused by his state and pain; his BDU was bloody and charred black in several places. Most of the blood wasn’t even his, but he had been lying in a pool of it while he was unconscious – It was then that several bitter-sweet thoughts ran through his head, such as; ‘Good thing I wasn’t lying face down in it… otherwise I would’ve drowned in one of my own friend’s blood’.
He glanced around, examining his surroundings; he needed to set a goal, to have independence. He grasped his left arm; pain started at his elbow and swept up to his pinky like a raging wildfire. Damon continued to look around. Several of the buildings in the military base were decimated to smoldering ruins; but the Armory still ‘half-stood’. That was a good thing- but only for one reason; He needed a weapon.
Damon was about to make his way to the armory like a civilian but he stopped himself short, checking his corners and his surroundings, every single building except the armory was destroyed, he was either very lucky or somebody was watching over him, Damon smiled slightly- no single alien was around. He was safe for the time being. So he made his way over to the armory and moved as quick as he could, keeping his head low and making himself as small a target as possible.
In moments Damon arrived at the shattered door of the Armory and he heard alien-feet skittering about, the sound of heavy breathing, and the yipping of smaller creatures were also easily detected. Damon finally took the liberty to check his current armament and equipment. He had a couple flash-bangs, a M6G sidearm and a combat knife. All of these weapons were standard issue for Urban Combat – all he was lacking was the Primary weapon.
Damon took cover against the wall next to the door frame before he removed one of the flash-bangs from his belt and pulled the pin.
“Flash out!” He shouted out of routine and tossed it inside the door. He heard a surprised Elite grunt and then roar wildy, three screams and an Avian-Howl- all at the same time. He then cleared the hallway; removing the M6G from its holster and opening fire, accurately, quickly and effectively- He aimed for the face and as adrenaline filled his bloodstream, time seemed to slow down.
He shot the small ones first, hitting their puny skulls and respirators with the sidearm as they tried to rub their eyes and make the ‘whiteness’ go away. He then shot the one that was roughly his size, once in the face, and finally the dinosaur with a split-face, he was swinging his plasma rifle wildly, he thought he was maintaining his honor and dignity by ‘fighting to the death’. Their corpses all hit the ground in roughly the same moment, but not at the exact same time.
He could classify them all, the Dinosaur was an Elite, the Midgets were grunts, and the Beak-face was a Jackal.
The elite was a Minor, it made the mistake of temporarily lowering its ‘shielding system’. The jackal was a sniper class and didn’t have one of those ‘Shield-Bracelets’. He could tell by the weird thing on its face, and the carbine.
Damon walked over to the elite that he had shot in the face three times. He shot it again and did the same with the Jackal – he didn’t waste ammo on the grunts; as they were too stupid to play dead.
Damon then looked at the Elites armament. A massive weapon that appeared to be delicate in nature, but if it was handled by one of these bad-asses, then him, holding it and waving it around, wouldn’t hurt it too much. Probably wouldn’t even dent it if he shot it with his own weapon.
He grunted as he picked up the weapon and placed it upon his back; he would try and figure out how to use the plasma gun. After picking up the weapon he continued to the armory, in search of a human weapon; a weapon that he knew how to use and a weapon that he absolutely loved. It was then, after a few moments of searching for the weapons; that he found his weapons. He stared upon the wall that held several variants of the MA5 series; the Standard Issue Individual Combat Weapon System.
They were organized perfectly; in alphabetical order. So that everyone could find what they’re looking for. The MA5B was first, presumably slower rate of fire than the newer MA5C, but had a larger clip and it sounded cooler; More Masculine – Whilst the MA5C had a smaller clip, but was more accurate. It was a possibility the reason for the increased accuracy was because of the longer barrel.
Then there was the MA5K and MA37, with the MA37 having the longest barrel and heaviest punch. The MA5K had an extremely high rate of fire and was also very inaccurate.
Damon’s hands shook uncontrollably, he placed his hand over his mouth and beads of sweat formed on his forehead; he was thinking about the access he had to all of this ordnance. There was another weapon that he could possibly use, it was a prototype, but it utilized 12.67mm FMJ Semi-Armor Piercing Ammunition and had a one-twenty-five-drum-mag. The MA5X Light-Machine Gun, it was ‘designed’ here and kept in the ‘Treasure-Chest’ as it had come to be known by the Troopers and Marines stationed at NMMB. The models were in the same room as Damon except on the far right of the room (Main Door wise), kept on a rack that seemed to be flawless of any scratch or speck of dirt. There were also Drum-magazines next to that rack and several-hundred bullets in the locker next to the Magazine rack.
Damon immediately got to work, simply by walking over to the Magazines and Ammunition, before taking the time to fill up at least nine drums of ammunition. He kept two of the drums of ammo on his belt, and stuffed the others into a backpack, he had found to the left of the treasure chest. He also placed the plasma gun within the pack. Making sure it was stuffed into the bottom. The backpack was most likely now over fifty pounds, it would be heavy and a long-walk- but he could manage, it was also a good way to work out- not that he needed to.
He grunted and found several flash-bangs that he sub-consciously placed onto his belt, two in front, two in back. Damon heard rubble crush underneath a boot or hoof directly behind him. In an instant Damon whipped around with his knife and was immediately holding it at the throat of whatever hadn’t announced its presence. It turned out to be a who; a female marine, who had been planning to ambush him, most-likely mistaking him for an alien rummaging through supplies.
“Stand Down, Marine.” She ordered overconfidently, and swallowed as she felt the cold blade barely touch her throat. Damon had wished she was an alien.
“Who are you?” Demanded Damon immediately, the blade still lightly touched her throat. He wasn’t giving up too easily, and he noticed that she swallowed, fearfully. She obviously didn’t expect him to move that fast, and not kill her instantly.
“Anna. Corporal Anna Trueheart.” She answered and growled slightly- building up her confidence. “And I command you to remove that weapon from my throat.” She added after brief hesitation. She had obviously been through training and maybe a battle or to; so he complied, slowly removing the blade from her throat.
She seemed relieved, he didn’t notice that she was tense, but she was. Her muscles relaxed and she didn’t do that nervous swallow thing again.
He turned back to the table then picked up the pack and put it on. After he had finished with the Pack he picked up the LMG and turned back to Corporal Trueheart, looking directly into her eyes.
“Orders Corporal?” He asked her; nodding slightly before he clicked the safety off of his newfound weapon and chambered a round.
“Your name.” She demanded and frowned slightly at him. She clearly thought he was just another dumb grunt, and she was probably right.
“Mendoza, Damon Mendoza, Private First Class, Warhounds.” He answered bluntly. “Ma’am.” He added after a moment and gave her another slight nod of his head.
She glared at him. “How did you survive?” She asked, raising one of her hands, and jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. He looked down at her finger and grinned, he raised the knife and poked her chest-plate, before letting it fall to his side; the gesture was only a warning.
“I ran a few feet out of the blast radius.” He stated, he was covered in human blood and it was getting cold, but it was also drying, any alien could pick up his scent and track him for miles. He needed to get out of it.
“And you realize that you are the only survivor of this entire base?” She asked, him raising an eyebrow slightly as she withdrew her finger from his chest, wiping the blood on her sleeve.
“Yes ma’am.” He said and gave her a mock salute
He shook his head and grunted, “Orders?” He asked again, and held his weapon.
“What remains of my squad came here looking for survivors… We just found you. But on our way he we retrieved a Pilot and three others. I’m the second-highest authority. Just below our pilot.” She stated. “We- I don’t know what our next action should be. The Pilot doesn’t know how to command, just fly.” She stated, hesitant. She shouldn’t be open with her subordinates, but she was only a corporal. So Damon would accept it… just this once.
“Well ma’am. If I might suggest something… I say…” He said and thought for a moment, hatching a few ideas. “I say we do a few runs in a pelican inside the city and evacuate as many soldiers to a defensible position as possible… Try the Crow’s nest, an under-ground air-base not too far from here. Just got to make sure nobody follows us.” He stated, thinking about the situation. He was hyper-active, and always was. Always would be; even now, his eyes flickered about and his senses functioned at an elevated rate. He noticed several things, the blood trails, the dead corpses lying around the room; the Dead Armory Sergeant and the hoof of the blue-armored elite that he had eliminated, it was sticking through the door and he finally looked back into the hazel eyes of the girl, the girl with the golden-brown hair and attractive air about her. He blinked a few times, and waited for her response.
“That’s a start…” She answered him and nodded slowly, Damon finally noticed her, actually taking an interest in the girl, she agreed with him; that’s a first that anybody agreed with him- but that’s also a first he ever suggested saving anyone else but himself. He always left men behind in Training Simulations and they made him a PFC. He had potential, but never lived up to it… or so he was told.
“What are you looking at?” She asked him; catching him making ‘comfortable eye contact’ with her.
“Something.” He answered bluntly and looked away from her before brushing past her and exiting the room with the MA5 series. He took quick notice of all the weapons pointed at him and raised his own and pointed it at them out of instinct. Lights flashed into his eyes, but despite this he knew it was human.
The lights were then pointed at the ground out of his eyes and they shouted something. “Oscar!” A male-trooper shouted out to Damon.
“Mike?” He answered back before lowering his weapon and grunting.
“He’s good.” One of them mumbled before taking note of the corporal behind Damon and grunted. “Come on Oscar! Covies ain’t gonna wait for us to meet and greet, let’s go!” A dark-skinned Marine said yell-whispering. His name tag read PFC. T. Reed, the Private first class wore a Urban BDU and Army armor.
“They don’t know where we are, we’re fine.” Damon stated half-heartedly, and with a slight smile and let his new toy rest upon his shoulder.
“Probably not you, but we just kicked a ton of covie ass on our way here, and they ain’t gonna be too happy once they catch up! Now get your asses over here.” Reed responded, his words were like venom, effective and they pretty much killed you in a second. Perhaps he was secretly a Gang-lieutenant in his past life before joining the UNSC or his parents were just really bossy.
Damon noticed the smoking warthogs, one Transport and One Gauss, just outside the main gate, he wondered at how he didn’t hear them coming, his senses must be dulled, or he was just working too hard on filling the drums with bullets.
“What’s the status on the pelicans?” Demanded Trueheart as she held an SMG in both hands, she adjusted the helmet upon her head before waiting for an answer.
Damon grunted slightly and ignored Reed’s response, paying attention to the reactions, tone of voice and etc.
“Most of ‘em are destroyed, Ma’am. Two are damaged but there is another with Anvil rockets and a Vulcan Chin-gun. Only has two salvos according to Benjamin.” He answered, he was punctual and straight to the point, and Seemed pretty intelligent. Yeah, his parents were bossy.
“Need a gunner, though. Anybody willing to accept the lives of others in your ha-“ He began but interrupted himself and then looked at Damon. “You’re gunning.” He said after interrupting himself, he had a grin on his face; Damon had noticed. It’s like he thought he was making the rookie do the bad thing, Damon didn’t think so. Learning was good, that way you could brag about it to anyone who didn’t know how to do what you had learned ‘on the job’.
“I’ve always wanted to shoot a Vulcan turret.” Damon’s responded as he nodded and followed Trueheart out of the building.
“You want him to be my gunner?” Asked the man who appeared to be the pilot, judging by the flight suit he wore, helmet and respirator-thingy. The helmet was similar in form to the ODST helmet, in form of being fully enclosed and equipped with a silver visor, though the
Pilot visor was more of an M shape, to an extent.
The Pilot must’ve lost his Falcon-Gunship or Short-sword Bomber and bailed out before he was engulfed in flames and burned to death- might be a comforting thought to somebody like us, but to a pilot it was probably the most embarrassing thing- Nobody ever said anything though.
“You got a problem with me buddy?” Damon asked him, he was grinning, the power set into his hands was the most he had ever had in his entire life; and he liked it. He loved heavy firepower; next thing he was going to get was a SPNKR.
It was starting to get dark; they had to move fast, if the reports were right, the covenant were going to glass the city soon.
