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Absolution Chapter V
Posted By: Havok<detoxpunk@hotmail.com>
Date: 3 August 2004, 8:20 PM


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ABSOLUTION
CHAPTER V


      Dr. Halsey sighed with exhaustion as she locked the collar on the helmet, mating it with the rest of the suit. Cool air gently brushed her face as the environmental systems kicked in. It had been a hell of a day and she was dead tired. The ancient Forerunner walls seemed to suck the life right out of her.

      She absently rubbed her fingertips together as she made her way to the airlock, he two bodyguards in tow. Protection was never a bad thing. The doctor kept reminding herself. Although the Marine's usefulness in an unexpected situation would no doubt be completely nullified by the presence of Kelly.

      Corporal Whol stepped into the airlock first, waiting patiently as the gadgetry hummed and the space slowly filled with water. He never really liked the water. Too many variables in an environment like this-

      The hatch in front of him clicked open. He floated through, a cursory glance checking out the area. After surveying the front, he slowly turned around to await he arrival of Doctor Halsey. The airlock cycled again, and he could see the water rising past the window set in the glass. That's odd, he thought. There seemed to movement in the water behind him-

      The Marine's feet propelled him several feet up and spun him around to face behind him. Training ingrained in his reaction time brought the muzzle of his weapon to bear. The form was dangerously close, and wielded a wicked looking needle in one hand.

      Whol's finger clamped down on the trigger, and the rifle spat three razor sharp disks in front of a funnel of compressed air. The first disk sliced through the palm of the assailant's hand, destroying both the syringe and muscle. The second and third rounds tunneled into the attacker's neck and head, following the line the rifle traced as the startled Marine brought it around. The man's pressurized suit was compromised, and the crushing pressure crumpled bone and cartilage.

      The Corporal scissored around to face the airlock again and shouted a warning to Doctor Halsey. The lady had just opened the outer hatch, and Whol saw a second attacker creep over the top of the airlock, knife in hand. Seeing its partner botch the assassination that would leave no suspicion of foul play, the second form dropped the unwieldy syringe and opted instead for a surer means of elimination.

      The Marine saw that he didn't have time to swim over to the doctor's aid, but before he could raise his rifle to aim at the attacker, a green helmet slammed into the form's midsection, propelling it clear of the doctor. Before the man could recover, a gauntleted fist slammed into his facemask, effectively ending the struggle.
Without waiting to assess the damage done by her fist, the Spartan kicked her legs, and shot forward, straight at Whol. The Marine ducked and turned at the same time. Two more forms were nearly upon him, and mentally kicked himself for not watching his back. Mistakes like that had nearly ended his life before; it seemed he got lucky once more.

      Kelly tore into the nearest attacker. This one was carrying a rifle not so different from the Corporal's it put a burst into the warrior's midsection, seconds before his life was torn out of his suit. The Spartan's shield's flared, illuminating the second form. Whol emptied the rest of the clip in one long burst of compressed air. The disks screamed through the water past Kelly's hip and shredded the attacker's torso.

      Before the body finished its last death throes, Whol had ejected the spent clip and inserted a fresh one, and checked visually and his sensors both for more motion. The area was clear. Doctor Halsey had come up behind them, and was now examining one of the would-be assassins. The Corporal's com link hissed.

      "An ONI hit squad." Halsey said, her words dripping with acid. "I should have expected something like this. That bastard Ackerson..."

___________________________________________________________

      The Pelican screamed over the hills, invisible if not unheard in the darkness. The passenger seats protested under the weight of the tons of armor that sat atop it. Three Spartans checked and rechecked their gear, silent killers dedicated to their mission of vengeance.

      The dropship gradually slowed down, then pulled up sharply, nullifying their forward velocity. The craft descended quickly and kissed the ground. As soon as contact was made, the Spartans were off the ship and into the night.

__________________________________________________________

      Colonel Ackerson sat by his workstation, glued to the screen. He was impatiently awaiting word that the target had been taken out. I finally have that leech of a civilian off of my organization. Funding for his special weapons programs had been starving for money, fund that had been unwisely- he thought- spent on the SPARTAN program.

      He leaned back in his chair, reluctant to get up and leave the workstation even for a second. The beach house was silent, the guards being as unobtrusive as possible. Waves crashed onto the shore, providing a comforting background noise. It also masked the stifled gurgles of the deaths of his loyal goons.

      He nearly toppled off of his balanced chair when a heavy thud of combat boots sounded behind him. He stood up and turned around, an angry snarl on his face ready to tear the head off of whoever had disturbed him this late at night.

      The snarl froze on his face as his blood ran cold. His Hawaiian shirt hung open revealing a belly borne of bad food and an ill temper which required beer to calm. A bad image to present to his killers.
      Master Chief SPARTAN-117 stood before him, flanked by two more unidentifiable armored warriors. His mirrored faceplate reflected the shabby looking Colonel back to himself.

      "Colonel Ackerson, you have been found guilty of treason against the UNSC and humanity, of consorting with the Covenant to gain your own ends, and for the attempted assassination of Doctor Halsey." The towering soldier's voice resonated through the room, drowning out the surf and vibrating inside the traitor's mind.

      "The penalty for these crimes; death."

      Before Ackerson had a chance to shout something, anything at the top of his lungs in defiance, the Master Chief raised a pistol and brushed the trigger. The single round caught the Colonel in the forehead. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back to the floor, dead.





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