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Victories last hope Ch VII Time To Run
Posted By: me<gumdosword@comcast.net>
Date: 20 June 2006, 1:06 am

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AN: you guys must be getting tired of the AN by now anyway once again please leave criticism I do need to get better everyone can agree to that.

       The second bomb was set and armed in the engineering section. Sean looked round still suspicious from the lack of enemies. After traveling what felt like miles to their target they had encountered almost no resistance. He had expected more now that they were traveling in the belly of the beast.
       "Bomb armed, sir we've tagged both our sites," said his demolition expert.
       "Good, now we can save some POW's," Sean said to the relief of his squad. They had feared they would have to blow the ship with marines, or God forbid other Spec Op marines, still on it.
       Unfortunately he still had that nagging feeling; he almost called it a premonition. A feeling that that whispered of dark things, that told him death was approaching. He prayed to God that he was wrong, that he was just nervous.
       After running for what seemed hours he noticed the rest of his team were getting nervous to. Now he knew something bad was about to happen. He was about to order them to a halt when they came up on an intersection. A heavily armed Kill Squad of Elites came around the corner. He had just enough time to spot a circular scar around the leader's eye before bright plasma filled the corridor.

       The escapees had found the armory, they were as fortunate as POWs could be. Greg really hoped his streak of luck would continue. First a crash that had penetrated the armor of the ship and shorted out the force field that had been trapping him and his friends, then there was the return the most precious things he owned. Third was the lack of resistance, not counting the fight in the brig, and finally the discovery of the largest armory on the ship.
       Even if they had to put up with Daniel this was a good day. Only one thing prevented this from being perfect. Yet when he was reunited with his knives he felt what could only be described as his friend returning, and banishing the guilt and despair that had threatened overwhelmed him.

       In the armory he had chosen a carbine and picked up four plasma grenades. Keeping the sword taken from that bastard of an Elite and the knives he had recovered from the same Elite had still left him traveling light because of how light the covenant weapons were. For good measure he picked up a plasma pistol which added more firepower than weight to his load out.
       Sam on the other hand had picked up two needlers and a plasma rifle. He said he would have picked up more but he couldn't find a spot to keep any extra weapons. Added to the fact that he didn't want the needlers to stab him when he brought out his plasma rifle the amount of weapons he could carry was limited.
       The sniper whose name he had learned was Molly had picked up a sniper. Everyone else in the group had all picked up carbines and from the way the held them showed the marines that most of them didn't know shit about shooting. Now that they were armed Greg hoped they would learn to shoot.
       They were soon moving down the endless hallways toward what they hoped would be escape from their former prison. The only resistance that they met was the occasional Grunt or Jackal, yet they all knew that sooner or later their luck would fail. When they heard something approaching from around the corner of an intersection they all thought their luck had run out.

       He was alive, barely. Sean's team had sacrificed themselves to save him and the comm. Specialist. He still couldn't believe that he had witnessed the massacre of some of the best trained soldiers of the UNSC. To escape he had thrown his signal grenade yet the enemies were still going to kill him before he could escape. Then his squad had rushed foreword and blown their supply of grenades on a suicide rush. He had no idea how many enemies had survived. He tried to banish the growing fear and apprehension when he drew closer to the next intersection. He sensed fear was also growing in the only other survivor, yet that hadn't stopped his short companion from taking point.

       "Everyone get back and find cover," Sam whispered to the group. "We need to ambush them when they come around the corner."
       Everyone began to move when suddenly Greg whispered "Wait I know how we can cut the first bastard down and possibly the second before they know what hit them."
       "How?" was Sam's only question.
       "Because I'm smarter, and better then you," was Greg's reply.

       He began by stabbing the wall with the plasma sword he had picked up. After widening the hole in the wall he pushed the hilt of the sword into the hole he had made. As he did this the foot steps grew louder, but for some reason he was starting to get the feeling that whatever was around the corner wasn't an Elite. To hide his unease at this sudden feeling he checked the height of the plasma sword. It was around neck level for an Elite but around forehead for a human. Good this just might work.

       Lucas his comm. Specialist was running ahead when suddenly the business end of a plasma sword sprouted from the wall. He was safe because of his stature but that didn't stop him from immediately going into a shoulder roll. Sean immediately put distance between him and the wall and kept running for the corner.

       Greg had activated the sword and tried to thrust it through the wall. The hilt got caught and wouldn't go through the wall. He pulled his arm out and began to dart around the corner. His hand was on the hilt of his knife when he noticed that instead of a decapitated elite there was a crouched human in the middle of the intersection.
       "We're clear," he yelled.
       "I wouldn't say that," said a voice from the back. Then Greg turned only to find his friends being held at gun point by a large group of Elites. He turned to find the newcomer and his friend in a similar situation.
       Finally he heard a voice that had haunted his nightmares for years. "You are getting even easier to track infidel," said an Elite with a familiar scar around its right eye. The scar belonged to the commander of the kill team who had promised to kill him and all his friends and family. Now it looked like it would succeed.
       Fear blossomed in his heart as the Elite looked straight at him. "Many under me have ranked you besides the accursed Demon, very few have even ranked you higher," It continued. The Elite gave him a cold predatory smile and fear threatened to choke him of whatever life he would have if he didn't escape.
       "Now you will learn to call me a demon, and I will make sure that your fear will be real before I cut all feeling from you." The Elite had finished his speech and dread came over Greg as he knew what would happen next. His friends would die and he would be forced to watch.