Halo: The End of Far Isle - Chapter 1
Posted By: chimeraNATOR<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 25 January 2010, 3:35 pm
Halo: The End of Far Isle - Chapter 1
0700 HOURS, MARCH 3, 2492 \ CAPITOL, FAR ISLE COLONY
Matthew Sanders awoke to the sound of a crash. He stretched and slowly shuffled towards the closest window overlooking the streets below. Twisting the handle, he pushed the glass pane outwards to get a clear view of below.
A crowd had gathered along the street. A warthog had veered off the road and smashed into the downstairs deli. What had might had caused this Matt didn't know. Several marines stood about the warthog, aiming their weapons at the crowd, not knowing what to do. One of the marines raised his MA5B assault rifle and fired shots into the air. The crowd stood their ground, neither stepping forward nor falling back.
Things happened very quickly. Staring intently at the crowd, Matt saw several figures making their way through the mob. They were armed with old MA2 rifles. Nevertheless, they were still deadly weapons. Matt counted at least eight of them. They each took positions, establishing a rough circle around the wreckage. Matt could only gaze.
The armed rebels shoved and pushed the men and women which stood in their way, brought up their rifles and hosed full automatic fire at the UNSC soldiers. It was over in a few seconds, the bodies of five marines lay smoking, blood leaking from gaping bullet holes. They didn't even have a chance to react. The crowd stood quietly, staring at the carnage which lay infront of them. The rebels were already gone.
Matthew sighed, incidents such as these were happening more and more often. Far Isle was heavily rich in uranium. Its people believed that it rightfully belonged to them. They didn't take kindly to the UNSC freely helping themselves to the valuable resource when others had to buy. Eventually extremists gained the courage to attack UNSC harvesting operations, bringing confidence to what is now known as the Resistance.
A few blocks down from the incident site, the Jack Lakeman loaded a fresh magazine into his MA2 assault rifle. He and his team had pulled off the initial attack without a hitch. Very soon the UNSC reinforcements would arrive at the scene, Jack would make sure they wouldn't make it out alive. He reached into his duffel bag and drew out a pack of satchel charges.
0727 HOURS, MARCH 3, 2492 \ CAPITOL, FAR ISLE COLONY
Private Samuel Masters manned the triple barreled Vulcan LAA turret on the back of the warthog. He clutched onto the handles as the vehicle rocked side to side, skidding around corners and speeding down streets. A troop transport warthog trailed behind, navigating through traffic as fast as they could. Even then, they only arrived at the scene 26 minutes after receiving the distress call. The moment they rounded the last corner to the street of the incident, Masters knew that it was bad, real bad.
The warthog skidded to a halt not 10 meters away from the crash site. "Marines!" Sergeant Miller dismounted, "I want a security perimeter around the crash site. Pilla, Knight, on me!" Sergeant Miller switched off the safety on his MA5B assault rifle and moved towards the wreckage, weapon at ready.
Masters gripped the handles on the Vulcan, eyes scanning the streets for possible hostiles. Other than a few people, who were briskly walking away, the street was empty.
Matthew Sanders was leaving his apartment. He walked up to the front door and opened it. He was surprised to see a large force of UNSC Marines at his doorstep. The opening of his front door distracted them for a moment- Of which the crashed warthog exploded. The three marines standing nearby didn't stand a chance. The explosion ripped them apart. Matthew dropped to the ground. Out of an alleyway he watched as several figures rolled out grenades and opened fire. The first grenade exploded near the lead warthog; the one armed with the .50 cal rotary. It flipped it over, sending the gunner crashing onto the pavement.
The marines this time however, were able to return fire after shaking off the initial explosions. Several rebels fell under the combined fire of the surviving marines. Out of a window from the opposite apartment, the windows opened and the curtains parted to reveal a man hefting a RPG launcher. He aimed at the group of marines and fired. The grenade spiraled out, fins barely stablizing it. It impacted on the apartment door, only a few meters away from Matthew.
"Shit! SHIT!" At the corner of his eye Masters saw the RPG hit an apartment door, sending the civilian which had distracted almost all of them- flying out onto the pavement. He sprung out of cover and brought up his weapon. A black clad rebel was instantly in his targeting reticule. He pulled the trigger. 7.62 millimeter bullets tore into the rebel, one managing to hit the cheek of his target. The overload in kinetic energy blew apart the rebel's face. He collapsed onto the ground; dead.
A pickup truck skidded to a halt behind the warthogs. Men armed with pistols and shotguns jumped out, firing indiscriminately at the UNSC soldiers. Masters felt a pistol round hit him hard in the chest. It winded him but wasn't enough to stop him from raising his rifle and emptying what was left of his 60 round magazine into the group of militia.
The ammunition counter on his MA5B clicked to ZERO. Masters ejected the magazine and reached for a fresh one. It slid in and secured with a satisfying clack. The counter reset to 60 as Masters brought back up the rifle and scanned the battlefield for additional targets. There were none.
Sergeant Miller was dead, as was Private Knight and Corporal Pilla; blown apart by charges placed close to the crashed warthog. Around him lay several other injured marines, the squad medic bending over them, tending to their wounds. The dead were left where they lay. The wounded came first.