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Unknown to most, the Unnamed Field Marshall's secret hobby is literature. During his time with THDF , he'd become inspired over and over again with the numerous acts of honor and heroism, and expresses his adventures in the form of word. Most of these works are historical fiction roughly based on the current adventure at hand; some are true stories picked up on mission. At some point, the Field Marshall finally returned to his own universe and his life drew to a close, but left his writings here in the THDF universe . Only many years later, would they be discovered by the scions of the Chat War era.

Heroes on Both SidesEdit

Captain Jennifer Opal of the New Galactic Republic had been tasked with helping the Resistance taking a mountainous region fortified by the Chat . The campaign for the planet Sidonis had begun almost two weeks prior, and the Resistance forces had managed to turn the tables on the Chat forces, who had been on the defensive for the last few days, and the Resistance had even managed to assassinate an enemy general. Every soldier under her command, including herself, knew that the conflict would draw to a close soon; it was these essential hours that would determine the victor. Opal stood around a table inside a command tent, discussing with the her lieutenants a plan of attack. One suggested they try and secure a mountain ridge, which would ensure them sniper support if they launched an assault. Another recommended that they divide themselves into three groups and feign an attack elsewhere while the primary force delivers the killing blow. Everyone had very legitimate plans, but there was always some flaw with them.

As she pondered the situation, the recon sergeant frantically rushes in, red-faced and sputtering.

"Chat...bunker...troops...planet...BOMB!"

"Easy now," she coaxed, "give me a sit-rep, slowly."

The sergeant stopped to breath momentarily, then proceeded to explain; "The chat have planted a huge bomb! I dunno where they got it, but the energy readings indicate that it's got enough power to permanently scar this planet!"

"What!? Where is it?"

"It's located in a bunker at the base of a valley not too far from here. They've made some attempt to mask the radiation output, but our equipment still picked it up."

Alarmed, Opal immediately ordered her lieutenants to assemble the troops in the gunships, and moved to give her update to command. She found herself unable to describe the events currently unfolding, and simply typed in situation developing. When she left the tent, troops were already moving into the aerial vehicles. She boarded one, and hoped the mission would be quick and clean.

It was not.

Upon immediate entry into Chat air space, AA guns had already mowed through three gunships. The rest attempted to land, deploy troops, and pull back to safety until the infantry could remove the AA batteries. Although that part had proceeded according to plan, Opal's transport clipped a wing and crashed. She took cover in a natural trench alongside a squad of resistance troops. They were very close to the bunker, and in the chaos of the battle would be able to slip past the enemy lines undetected.

The Squad leader eagerly saluted her. "Specialist Arnold of Lariat Squad reporting for duty!"

"Arnold, you and your squad are going to help me infiltrate the bunker and deactivate the chat bomb."

Meanwhile, on board a cloaked ship in orbit around the planet, several mercenaries and terrorists were discussing important matters.

"Ha, that fool Zeta thinks the resistance won't win if we help the Chat. I intend to bow up both armies. The Chat deserve to pay for raiding Koraulak, and those idiotic resistance members think the bomb is of their making," a Dervish mercenary bellowed. Beside him, a Carkosiatt remained silent, while a hooded man chuckles.

Captain Opal and Sergeant Arnold lead their squad around the main strong points and successfully flank the Chat defense. As their priority is the bunker, they pass up the opportunity to wreak havoc on the enemy.

On the other side of the battlefield, a chat moderator signaled three Chat troopers to follow him to the bunker. At that moment, a turret gunner spotted the infiltrators and fired upon them. Simultaneously, the resistance had disabled the AA guns and the gunships came for a strafing run that killed many Chat troopers. The moderator leaped into a trench and grabbed a resistance trooper's weapon. The latter struggled, but eventually lost his grip and took a blast to the face. His comrades suffered a similar fate.

At this point, every member of Lariat Squad, besides Arnold, had been gunned down by the man on the turret. Desperate, Opal tossed a grenade belt once she was close enough. As if an act of Providence, the belt landed directly under the turret, and the stationary gun went up in a large explosion. Two Chat troopers arrived and Arnold volunteered to hold them off in close quarters combat.

"Go captain! You're our only hope!"

Reluctantly, Opal sprinted into the bunker alone. Unknown to her, the chat moderator, who also had his team decimated, entered the other end of the bunker. They both moved toward the bomb control room, certain of what the other intended to do.

Back on the ship, the mercenary leader checked his timer, and grinned as he saw what remained of the countdown until detonation.

"10"

"9"

A Chat trooper popped up, but Opal shot him dead and kept running.

"8"

The moderator looked down at the body of a dead Chat Sniper and hesitantly stepped over the corpse.

"7"

"6"

Both Opal and the unnamed moderator entered the control room at the same time and glared at each other.

"5"

"4"

The moderator rested his hands on his pistol as while Opal raised her assault rifle. She had the advantage.

"3"

"2"

The Moderator quick-drew the pistol and fired several shots. Opal did the same.

"1..."

Specialist Arnold contacts Captain Opal using his helmet radio; "Captain, are you okay? I heard gunfire! I don't wanna send you back to the NGR in remains!"

Opal receives the transmission and glances at the smoldering body of the moderator, whom she had shot at. She looks over at the bomb's remote detonation up-link, which the moderator had shot at and destroyed. The timer was frozen at a few milliseconds away from detonation.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "I was never the target."

The Last Thing They Never Saw Edit

With the disappearance of both Jess McKathy and Tyler Alshwind , and the lethal blow delivered by the Chat Empire, the Delta SEALS had evaporated into the vast universe, unable to maintain their reputation. The once-feared private military group of elite soldiers and assassins faded away almost completely between 2555 and 2557, and are now simply a tale discussed among the lower ranking Chat troopers. As desired by their enemies, both the Chat Empire and the Old Republic, the SEALS were unable to establish a legacy, or even leave a mark on the universe; the lives they took being the only sign that they ever existed. Chat propaganda suppressed any evidence that the group had operated, and the empty facilities on Kastafar were demolished.

An old saying exists; "You can kill a man, but you can't kill an idea."

The Lone Delta Seal scanned the ridge from the abandoned farmhouse. Gauss Wisely's frontier was a very free and open expanse, unclaimed by the civilization that made up 40% of the planet. During the day, when everything could be seen, the view was absolutely breathtaking, but at night, it was a terrifying, foreign landscape. The farmhouse itself was somewhat large, having a pair of silos and three primary structures complemented by four smaller ones. The farm itself was on a descending hill, and from the top of the farmhouse, one could see a large part of the valley. The room the lone SEAL stood in was the highest point in the compound, a bedroom. A large bed was directly behind him, and debris and trash covered the floor. Graffiti saying "The cult is real" painted the wall.

As far as he could see through the binoculars, his target wasn't in sight. He put down the binoculars and tapped several keys on his tac-pad. A map popped up on his HUD, displaying the cartography of the area. The farmhouse that he currently stood in was easy to locate, but the object of his destination was harder to find. The entire effort could be in vain; the map the SEAL was using was well over a decade outdated, but also the only map available of this current area. Despite this, he was determined to complete his mission.

The Lone Delta Seal descended the winding stairwell and walked out into the yard. At the bottom of the hill was an old man-made bridge crossing a river. As he quickly made his way down, he stopped and raised his gun when an angular ship slowly hovered overhead, momentarily blocking the sunlight. The SEAL knelt down and took cover behind a silo. This far out in the wilderness, a strange looking ship usually meant trouble. Upon peaking out, the SEAL saw that a group of Carkosiatts had landed. They were all armed, and two were lugging a large crate. Smugglers, terrorists, or pirates. The lead insect-like humanoid let out a growl as his cohorts started toward the bridge.

Deciding to do the planet a favor, the Lone Delta SEAL raised his silenced UAP45 .

The first insect-man to reach the farm's side of the bridge abruptly went down as his arm exploded. Surprised, the group leader waved his arm, and the two carrying the crate dropped it to take defensive positions. Two more advanced forward, looking for the shooter but couldn't find him. A grenade arcs over from seemingly nowhere and lands right between the pair of Carkosiatts, causing them to dive aside and take cover. The leader raised an eyebrow as the explosive failed to go off, and realized it was a dud, since the pin was still attached. He yells at his men in their language, and as the two are getting up, one is killed by a burst of gunfire.

Once again, the lead insect-man growls in frustration. The remaining lackey attempts to return to the center of the bridge, but he failed to notice that the grenade was attached to an almost invisible thread. As the thread was yanked, the grenade came flying toward the unsuspecting alien. He turned around in shock and dives aside again. As before, the explosive didn't go off. Angry that he had been made a fool of, the lackey picked up the dud grenade and vigorously tugged on the string, attempting to locate the source. Unfortunately for him, the other end pulled back, removing the pin from the explosive, and a small but lethal detonation tears apart the alien.

A loud metal clank rings out from the other end of the bridge, and all three remaining Carkosiatts turn their heads toward it, but there is nothing. As their guns were trained on that end of the bridge, they waited for any more noise, but none came. Thirty more seconds pass, and still no noise. Finally, the turn their attention back to the farmhouse side and proceed. Not trusting the situation, the leader stayed a moment longer to scrutinize the general area that the noise came from.

A booming explosion occurs directly behind him, and the heat from the plume rushes over his back. The bewildered Carkosiatt leader turns around to see the smoldering corpses of his last two lackeys. They had stumbled upon a tripwire rigged to an explosive, which had certainly not been there thirty seconds ago. Their cargo had also been incinerated, and he roars.

He rushes forward with his shotgun raised, vigilantly searching for the enemy. Their attacker was very careful, and it greatly confused him at how his entire squad of five was easily decimated. A little voice at the back of his head said something inaudible. It didn't say anything at all, it had let out a soft chuckle, and it definitely wasn't in his mind! His eyes widened in pure terror and surprise as an overwhelming, searing sensation overtook his entire head, and his vision went black.

The final Carkosiatt went down, blood spurting from where his head used to be. All six corpses littered the bridge, having died never knowing who their assailant was; the Lone Delta SEAL, the last thing they never saw.

Demons and Devils Edit

An aging Mandalorian commander stood on a cliff overlooking the newly-captured Beta Maximus 35b colony. The Mandalorians had clearly lost the planet to THDF, but some remained in hopes that they could eventually start a revolution. He sat and pondered over his actions during the closing hours of the invasion. He had killed two sangheili zealots, and claimed their swords. From his hidden abode, there was no way the Scouting Fleet forces could locate him, and he spent his days simply staring at what used to be his home.

During the invasion, the commander had lost his will to fight due to witnessing the slaughter of hundreds of innocent Mandalorian civilians, although he was glad that one of the Assassins corp. decapitated one of the hated "Spartans" mere meters in front of him. Unfortunately, he was now a war veteran suffering PTSD, and he wasn't even out of his thirties yet. He hesitated to pull the trigger when he ambushed a group of unggoy patrolling the settlement a few days ago, and he had hesitated again when he assassinated an unwary sangheili major domo today. His honor was leaving him like water from a leaky gourd, and the Mandalorian Commander cringed that he couldn't do anything about it but sit and allow himself to whither away.

Suddenly, he heard a scream. It sounded close, and wasn't from any of the covenant species. The commander donned his armor and leaped down to the bottom of the cliff, with his jetpack softening the landing. Another scream came, and he ran to the source.

In a clearing, a platoon of Scouting Fleet troops were terrorizing a few mandalorian survivors. The grunts were waving their plasma pistols around, while two charged up the weapons to scare the survivors. The Commander raised his dual pistols and shot down a pair of them. Instantly, the unggoy turned their attention to the attacker and fired. The large group hailed a barrage of plasma fire on the Mandalorian as he took cover. Plasma whizzed by his head, and he poked out to drop another grunt. A plasma grenade suddenly dropped mere feet from him, and he used his jet pack to thrust himself aside. His expertise marksmanship allowed him to pick off a few kig-yar. Once again, concentrated gunfire obligated him to take cover.

Unfortunately, a plasma grenade had landed directly behind the Commander, where he didn't see it, and he was thrown to the ground in the open. A sangheili minor approaches and kicks him in the ribs. As the sangheili held him against a tree, a bloodcurdling series of screams came from the center of the clearing; the unggoy had executed the Mandalorian survivors! There was a lot of blood, enough that the Commander raised his eyes in fear at being reminded of the invasion itself. His brain began to shut down and he started to give in to primal instincts spurred by adrenaline. The sangheili minor grabbed the Mandalorian's helmet and pressured it against the tree, while the latter was going into a PTSD flash. Instead of the usual terror and confusion, something else happened this time; something deep within him burned. Something at the very center of his soul screamed with a desire to be heard. Something tugged at his heartstrings and numbed his mind. He had snapped.

Never before had any Scouting Fleet forces encountered such a relentless fury. Fear entrenched the eyes of every single covenant soldier present, it reminded them of the Spartans they had fought during the Human-Covenant war. The demons had wreaked havoc among their ranks, and could take down platoons within minutes. Except this time, it was different.

This Mandalorian wasn't a mere demon, he was the devil himself.

The enraged Commander drew the large combat blade from his waist and viciously swung it at the sangheili. The incredible force had cut through not only the elite's shields, but sliced off his entire left arm and upper torso. The limp corpse fell to the ground, causing the other forces to hesitate. The warrior spared them not a single moment to experience anything but fear. He raised his dual pistols and thrusted head-on into the crowd as they screamed.

That night, a sangheili ultra walks into the clearing with another patrol, and is shocked at the bloodbath that had ensued. Every single scouting fleet soldier was dead. He looked around the battlefield for signs of who had done it.

"By the gods! If we still have a Mandalorian army on this planet, they hide pretty damn well," he exclaimed.

A dying spec-ops sangheili crawled out from under a mass of bodies. His helmet had been removed, and part of his face had been completely melted away from plasma fire. He was missing a leg. The ultra ran over to his wounded comrade.

"Brother! What a massacre! Their forces must have caught you off guard!"

"AGHK, No! We fought! As hard as we could, but it didn't work!" The dying elite coughed and sputtered with every word.

"How many of their numbers did you take with you?"

"None!" He weeped. By now, purple blood was pouring out of his mouth.

"What!? This Mandalorian army cannot possibly be that skilled. How many were there?"

The dying sangheili inhaled one last time and uttered his last words; "Just one."

Rust Edit

Luck had been on his side, as it always had been; the Lone Delta SEAL stared up at the large facility integrated into the mountainside. The outdated map had still proven itself useful, and led him to his current objective. The SEAL took out a holographic projector and activated it; the building that the hologram portrayed was identical to the one that currently stood in front of him, although the latter had significantly deteriorated. Rust and overgrowth decorated the entire exterior of the facility, and a large hole occupied what used to be the main entrance. It was very well-hidden, as it had taken him four days since killing the Carkosiatt smugglers to pinpoint the exact location.

The Lone SEAL entered through the hole, and looked around; the pitch-black rooms forcing him to utilize night-vision. Debris, trash, and natural expansion awaited him at every corner. The building was also very silent, and the slightest creaking would unnerve even the most hardy. Being overly cautious, the SEAL proceeded from chamber to chamber with his gun raised. In one particular room, a portion of the wall had collapsed, revealing what seemed to be an unnatural tunnel. Disregarding this, he hurried over to one end when he noticed an old bloodstain on the wall.

The SEAL reached into his backpack and produced a source scanner. He turns the lens onto the stain and holds it in position for a moment as a quiet mechanical humming rings. The room was quiet enough that the ghost of a sound echoed through to the adjacent areas. Moments later, the display showed all information regarding the blood; it was a decade old, it was type A, it contained traces of thrombocytopenia, etc. He shook his head in disappointment when the scanner indicated that the stain did not match the sample he had; the sample he was looking for. Afterwards, he noticed something carved into the wall with a knife, which turned out to be writing. For John and Jessica. Politicians, heroes, mentors and caretakers. The writing was followed by a drawing of three stick figures standing together; two were embracing each other with halos on their heads, while the third person had been viciously crossed out with the knife.

After he used the helmet cam to take a stillframe of the carving, the Delta SEAL proceeded to the next room. This one had a completely different feel to it, mainly due to the dozens of skeletons lying on the ground. The SEAL was not at all disturbed, and continued his exploration.

Eventually, he found himself in the highest room in the facility. The chamber was still underground, but he had to climb up a tight service ladder to reach it. Alongside being isolated from the rest of the chambers, this room also differed in the overall appearance. It was a cozy looking abode, having a bed, a desk, and various other accommodations. On the desk rested an old computer, and the Lone Delta SEAL immediately scrutinized it in hopes that it still contained anything useful. The only file remaining on the computer were a trio of journal entries, with two being audio recordings, and the last being a written entry. Eagerly, the SEAL played the first audio log and paid close attention.

[Playing audio - 06:10 Hrs December 8th, 2539]

Voice 1 "Hey! Tyler here. I'll be completely honest with you, journal, I've been here for only a few weeks, and I feel like there's something ominous about this place. He refers to it as "The Cave," and says its atmosphere is essential to my mental development, but I just-" (Inaudible sounds)

Voice 2 "Rise and shine, shitebox."

Voice 1 "Wha-!? You're not Jango!" (Sound of shuffling followed by gun cocking)

Voice 2 "No, I'm not. In case you've forgotten, 'Jango' is the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy, and he's setting aside a great deal of patience to handle a little shit like you. Show some respect; it's Lord Al Ghul to you."

(Inaudible sound)

Voice 2 "To answer your question, he's off collecting a bounty, and left me in charge of your morning exercises."

Voice 1 (sigh) "Okay, I guess."

Voice "And one more thing you should know."

Voice 1 "What should I-" (Sound of repeated impact)

Voice 2 "Never raise a gun at me."

Voice 1 "I'm so sorry sir, I meant no offense."

Voice 2 "Alright, now I want you to run to the Eagle's Nest lookout and back. That should serve for a decent warm-up."

Voice 1 (gasp) "The one that's three kilometers away!?"

(Inaudible sounds)

Voice 2 "I'm gonna shove this chunk of metal three kilometers up your ass if you don't leave right now!"

Voice 1 "Yes sir! I'm on it!"

Voice 2 "And turn this stupid diary off, you little pussy."

[Audio ends - 06:14 Hrs December 8th, 2539]

The Lone Delta SEAL downloaded the file he had just played into his helmet computer. He let out a breath of relief and triumph; this was the correct building. Now all he had to do was follow in his mark's footsteps in hopes of eventually encountering the man. He activated the hologram projector again to display a life-sized image of Tyler Alshwind, later known as DMR4LIFE. This was the Lone Delta SEAL's goal, his mission... his target... his prey.

Obitus De 'Montrumai Edit

[Playing audio - 09:37 Hrs January 8th, 2558]

Voice 1 (Inaudible sounds) "Sir, an escape pod just entered Yoth's atmosphere. Neither ours nor Chat; Covenant, actually. Orders?"

Voice 2 "Leave it, ensign."

Voice 3 "Uh, sir. There's a distress signal emitting from that pod. We might be able to recover a valuable asset. The Scouting Fleet will consider it a favor."

Voice 2 "Predicted Trajectory?"

Voice 1 "Heading down to..." (silence) "sector seventeen."

Voice 2 "That's chat territory. You wanna risk it?"

Voice 3 "Well..." (silence) "several recon teams are still injured from the slipspace departure incident."

Voice 4 "Sir, I volunteer." (Sound of clicking)

Voice 2 "I wasn't asking for volunteers son."

Voice 4 "With respect, I prefer the recovery team consist of willing men than not."

Voice 1 "Twenty-six minutes until Covenant pod impacts with the surface."

Voice 2 "How many -intact- teams ready for deployment?"

Voice 3 "Just Cobalt squad."

Voice 2 "Put 'em up."

Voice 3 "Actually, sir, Cobalt one was KIA during the jump."

Voice 4 "Sir, I can-" (Banging noise)

Voice 2 "Shut up, PFC!"

(silence)

Voice 2 (Frustrated breathing) "Fine... you're up, Ennoch."

Voice 4 "I won't disappoint, sir."

[Audio ends - 09:52 Hrs December 8th, 2539]

... (Different voices below)

[Playing audio - 17:02 Hrs January 8th, 2558]

Voice 1 "Okay... Private First Class Ennoch?"

Voice 2 "It's pronounced 'Ennick,' ma'am."

Voice 1 "Alright. Please recount the details of your find. The brigadier wants you to orally verify what was on your report."

Voice 2 "We arrived at the crash site at about twelve-hundred hours. Inside was a lone Sangheili warrior. His armor was distinct, as you may have seen on the footage."

Voice 1 "Yes, the markings indicate it as a Spec-ops commander."

Voice 2 "It was barely alive when we discovered it, and Chloe- I mean Private Edson attempted to stabilize it, but before we could, several Chat patrols forced us to pull out."

Voice 1 "What was the status of the Sangheili when you left it?"

Voice 2 "I swear, it was gonna die anyway 'cause it was so badly mutilated. We left it. Better to let it die than to try and fix what it was."

Voice 1 "What you said is consistent, PFC. Now there's one thing left."

Voice 2 "Yes ma'am."

Voice 1 "The brigadier's had enough of your 'non-conformist' influence on the station. He requested that your post be transferred."

Voice 2 "Where to?"

Voice 1 "You're being assigned to the 2nd Response Fleet."

Voice 2 "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

Voice 1 (Shuffling) "Go ahead."

Voice 2 "I hope that bastard goes head first into hell."

(Sound of chair being pushed back, followed by footsteps and a door slamming)

[Audio ends - 17:09 Hrs January 8th, 2558]

Not Rogues nor Traitors Edit

The frigate, Blade of Veneration, departs slip space and cruises toward a small planet. The Covenant ship was flanked by another frigate and a smaller light cruiser on either side. The three ships powered down their engines and came to a rest. A few ships zoomed past in the distance and descended to the surface, indicating it was inhabited. On the command deck of the Blade, Shipmaster 'Kuram hastily taps several keys on his console; holographic figures of two other Sangheili in high ranking armor popped up.

"Shipmaster Kal 'Hukas of the Sublime Transgression, and Shipmaster Soph 'Lurovai of the Unflinching Contrition, I am grateful for your decision to follow me," the Sangheili started.

'Hukas nodded acknowledgement, while 'Lurovai prompted the inevitable question; "where do we go next?"

"I say we hit chat bases until we can find over-charged slip space drives. Clearly, normal devices aren't going to allow us to go back home," said 'Lurovai.

"I suppose that's a start; work off what we know."

"This green planet before us doesn't seem to be Chat. Usually, they'd have an orbital defense platform or two to secure their support and morale."

"We should go down and see if we can learn the locations of some, because the Field Marshall was the one with the map."

"Good idea," 'Kuram commended, "it might be wiser to avoid going down as an armed contingent. Do either of you wish to accompany me? I will go bearing no troops."

'Hukas squinted his eyes and frowned, "Who made you the leader of our little group?"

"You followed me, so I assumed you were willing to accept my philosophy, and my orders."

'Hukas nodded in tandem with 'Lurovai, "Fair enough, I suppose. Once we get back home, we don't even have to remember that any of us existed after we go our separate ways."

"Remember that we all hold the same position, but I am willing to part some of my authority because we share a common goal," 'Lurovai added.

'Kuram's eyes brightened as he bowed to the two other Sangheili; "Then we stand united. The three of us will be the Fleetboard Committee."

The other two roared in cheer as 'Kuram raised both of his arms to his side, reminiscent of a cross.

"We are now... the Fleet of Return."

The Perpetuity of Bray Edit

UFM stood in the medical chamber of the Augury of Justice, surrounded by many Huragoks and a pair of human scientists. In front of him, a head shorter, stood Aylin Bray, the Spartan he had rescued almost two years ago. The two had been through many conflicts ever since they joined forces, and she had shed a new light upon the Spartans that UFM had never been aware of. In fact, were it not for her, he would still be referring to them as "Demons," or worms of the earth. Although she towered over the two other humans, she was still dwarfed by the Sangheili and the Huragoks.

"Fleetmaster, I'm adamant about this," she affirmed for what felt like the hundredth time, "I can't continue to fight this war. I'm needed by the UNSC, and I do want to go home."

UFM shifted his head in irritation, "Spartan, your home is here, with the fleet. Did you not say yourself that all the Spartans in your fireteam, whom you've fought with even before joining the program, were killed off? Most fleet troops have completely transcended the idea that you're a human, and you're more welcome here than ever."

Spartan Bray furrowed her brow, as if being forced to make a difficult decision, "Listen, you are the Sangheili I respect more than any other. You, and you alone, changed my opinion of the Sangheili, but I'm human and UNSC before any other ties I hold. I'm sorry, but I'm insistent that I leave the fleet."

"As you wish..."

"I understand that you've also appreciation for my skills and input, and I think I can leave that here with you," she said.

"What? How do you intend to do that?"

She smiled; a rare occurrence coming from somebody like her, "clone me!"

UFM looked up in interest, and the human scientists started murmuring to each other. Similarly, the Huragoks let out a variety of hums.

"I'll leave you a DNA sample, and you, as resourceful as you are, will most likely find a way to clone me," she said.

"I suppose since there's no way to sway you, I'll go with that."

Joint-Op: Caging the Eagle I Edit

Captain Jennifer Opal stood with her back to the edge of an alley as gunfire came from around the corner. She tightly gripped her CS-8 Auto and swallowed while footsteps quickly approached her position. The captain burst out from behind cover and fired her weapon, killing a chat trooper and wounding the one behind him. As she ducked back into cover, a grenade rolled around the cover, forcing her to leap behind a jersey barrier in the road.

A few meters away, Corporal Ennoch fired his weapon at the chat troops. The NGR soldiers were fighting their way up a street and, due to their expertise in urban combat, were taking only light casualties. On the other hand, the chat forces they were steadfastly plowing through weren't as lucky.

"How much farther?" a soldier yelled.

"Just the end of this block," Ennoch yelled back. Opal signaled to a pair of NGR soldiers and told them to move up. They obeyed and leaped through the glass windows of a store on the side of the road. Moments later, several more soldiers moved up the lane and took cover behind vehicles. They soon arrived at their objective building at the T-intersection ahead. Corporal Ennoch scanned the adjacent buildings to ensure there were no more hostiles at the moment.

"I'll take point. Come in hot as soon as you hear gunfire," she said. The captain kicked down the door and raised her gun as she scanned for hostiles. Nothing. She inched down the hallway, moving farther and farther away from the safety of fire support and approached a corner.

Suddenly, a massive armored hand came out of nowhere and seized her wrist. She felt herself getting lifted off the ground and slammed against a wall. A giant behemoth in power armor glared at her through a bright red visor. After pinning her for a few seconds, the giant let her go and stepped back. Immediately, she raised her sidearm and prepared to pull the trigger, but someone firmly lowered the barrel.

"Check your fire, captain, you wouldn't wanna get hurt," a sentinel said smugly. Opal glared at him for a moment before she rolled her eyes within her helmet and lowered her weapon. She noticed the pile of chat bodies on the ground.

"Big man, you'll get your chance to pound someone into the ground," another sentinel said. Opal looked around the armored giant and saw a team of a half-dozen sentinels.

"Sorry, just a bit hard to distinguish with similar armor. I have to rely on my motion tracker a bit more than usual," the giant said in a deep voice. Opal nodded.

"That's Jorge. He's a Spartan."

One of the sentinels tossed her an ammo pack while another one surveyed the streets from the window. He tapped several icons on his tac-pad.

"Dunno what General Karl was thinking, but this raid was a horrible idea; it's the heart of the Chat in this entire goddamn sector," he fumed.

"I thought you liked New Haven, Bandon."

"Don't get me started on that shit. It's too bitter and not enough sweet."

Opal glanced down at her own tac-pad to check on the situation. The division commander ordered her unit to head to the rally point and await further orders but she received no word about sentinel involvement. I guess it's not as simple as I thought it'd be, she thought. Her unit arrived seconds later.

"Listen up, our window for extraction is gone in less than an hour. We have to apprehend objective 'Crossbow' by then. The others were tasked with covering our entry."

"Ma'am? Sentinels?" Ennoch asked. He eyed the pair of soldiers with awesome armor.

"Corporal, we're just gonna go with it. Their orders override mine in the field."

"Cheer up, scrubs," Bandon said while holstering his weapon. "You're working with the best now."

The Stress of World Conquering Edit

Cirne used her telekinesis to play with a trophy she recovered while conquering a small frontier world. It was a rather nice world, echelon 6, and fairly out of the sights of her sisters so that she wouldn't have to come defend it or whatever. It was cute how the natives saw her as a goddess that came from the sky. A soon as her landing craft touched down, the curious looking creatures crowded around with primitive trinkets that they must have considered as worthy tribute.

The Naga, very amused, played along and incinerated their gifts in a single blast, cementing her place as a divine being in their eyes. Not a single weapon was raised, and she conquered the planet in record time: less than an hour.

A Carkosiatt mercenary approached her and kneeled down in respect.

"Mi'lady, our troops have been stationed on the colony. No doubt they'll bring in offerings from the people to their goddess."

"These 'offerings' are merely carved rocks and ornamental pottery; I've no interest in their junk. I'm worried that these naïve fools are gonna bow down for anyone that comes out of the sky," she said.

"I'm sure a planet as beautiful as this would sell nicely, mi'lady, you profit, and we also don't have to worry about protecting it."

"Aye, that sounds like the best idea. The stress of a planet conqueror..." she muttered.

The Caspian Conflict: Durd's Hellboys Edit

Ren

"You are as beautiful as a Wisely frigate on her maiden voyage, with a fresh coat of paint and oiled ventral thrusters." Renée had heard her share of compliments but this one was by far the ugliest.

"Are you for real!?" she stammered. "Can you- can you just stop living?"

She disregarded the man's existence and turned around in her seat. It took her a second to realize she had a helmet on and the merc couldn't have seen her face. She also had a voice distorter on the suit. She turned around again to face him.

"And how the hell did you know I'm a girl!?"

Every merc in the room raised their weapon and pointed it at her.

"I didn't. Thanks for admitting it," he said smugly. "Now take off the helmet or that wall behind you is gonna be sprayed with your brains."

She slowly lifted the helmet up, revealing her face. "What are you? An expert on psychology?"

"No... you're just stupid," the merc replied.

At that moment, Durd stomped into the room. He was a Visaak, pretty much a huge chunk of meat and muscle that looked disgustingly human.

"BOYS I SMELL A FEMALE IN HERE!" he growled. Everyone turned their head toward him, probably in disbelief.

"Yeah, you can probably see the female in here too," Renée said, rolling her eyes.

"RRRRGHRGHRGRH THIS BAND IS CALLED DURD'S HELLBOYS NOT HELLGIRLS GTFO FAGGOT!"

She turned to the merc that had exposed her. "I feel like 'stupid' might have just been more clearly defined."

Before he could reply, she raised her TM-16A machine pistol and blew his brains out. The other mercs started firing, instantly filling the small room with bullets. Renée hoisted the corpse of the mercenary to use as a shield as she fired back.

One headshot.

Two headshots.

Shit, a body shot!

She charged forward while still holding the merc's corpse and toppled over another one firing at her.

"Mom! Where are you!?" she yelled into her redtooth wireless earpiece.

"Where are you?" Aylin echoed.

"C'mon! You're a Spartan, get it together. I'm kinda-"

Renée tried to line up a headshot on Durd but he grabbed the machine pistol and crushed it.

"OW GODDAMNIT! My hand! I think think this beef bag just broke my hand!" Durd glared into her soul, and she laughed nervously. "Let's call it a draw, alright? You let go of my hand and I'll lie and say you're not a meat-head, sexist asshole whose chin looks like a vagina."

He punched her in the face. The face! She didn't even have her helmet on. That felt like someone shot a brick at her face. She felt the blood from her bloody nose drip down her face.

"OW GODAMMNIT! Not the nose, you bitch!" she swung her leg up and kicked Durd in the groin.

"RRRARARARARAGHAGH," he roared.

"RRRRRARARARAAAAWR," she roared back. "Fine, you can keep the gun, just let go of my GODDAMN HAND!"

"He sounds like he wants to get laid," Aylin said. "You think you're enough for him?"

"Aylin!!! Fuck you!"

"Hahahaha... I'm so sorry." ;-; "Wait, what happened to calling me 'mom'!?" >=(

"No, I was actually talking to muscles-for-brains here. It's hard to multitask when- shit."

The brute knocked the redtooth from her ear. She finally managed to wrestle her hand free from his massive hand (which was ten times the size of her own) and made a dive for the earpiece, ignoring the throbbing pain in her hand.

Except the redtooth was nowhere to be found!

Durd suddenly put her in a chokehold and she felt a crushing pressure around her neck.

"Well shit!" she muttered. "Hey! You know all that meat on you? Well this place is gonna be a butcher shop by the time I'm done with- kkkack." His giant beefy arm tightened the grip.

"Okay! I'm gonna get serious! Like Christian Bale serious, and then you're gonna ask me 'Why so seri-' kkkack. LET ME TALK, YOU ASSHOLE!"

"DURD KNOWS THAT ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS!"

"FINE! If that's the case, then you're about to go deaf... shit. One-liners are stupid."

Next story coming soon... Edit

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