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It's Raining Plasma
Posted By: Sorbin<londo318@comcast.net>
Date: 16 December 2004, 11:33 PM
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Garth was horrified. More horrified than he had ever been in his life, and the Marine had seen combat against the Covenant since he was seventeen and left home to fight. But this time he was horrified because he was staring directly into the barrel of a gun that hung only ten feet away from his face. But mainly he was horrified because the gun was an M6C Magnum, and its holder was his platoon leader, Corporal Mannid. "Damn it, Garth!" he cried, his gun shaking violently as the sweat rolled down his face. The deranged Corporal looked around, glanced around the hallway of the hospital they had retaken from the Covenant, and then immediately turned back to Garth, thrusting his gun forward with violent little jabs.
"Sir, it's alright, just put the gun down and talk to me," Garth said in the most calm voice that he could. He wished he had a weapon. He had dropped his pistol when the Corporal pulled his gun on him, and his sniper rifle had been lost in a fire-fight gone horribly wrong. He knew he wouldn't get a shot off on his captor even if he had a gun, but the cold touch of steel always made him feel safe. "I know you've seen a lot, but..."
"No more talking!" Mannid shouted, his face beet red in an insane anger. "I saw you murder every damn member of my platoon, and to top it all off, you gave the Covenant the access codes to our nearest weapons cache! Now, I'm going to avenge Peterson, and Mayfield, and Scotten and all the rest of the people whose blood stains your vile hands..."
Garth knew that his leader had cracked under the pressure. Years of battle against seemingly impossible odds could do that to someone, and it had taken Mannid's full strength to suppress that madness and get a platoon. The Marine on the giving end of the magnum closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened for the gunshot as he thought back to the battle...
The gunshots rang in his mind like a bell. The cries of horror, the garbled Covenant tongue, and the explosions just made it worse. Mannid's platoon landed on Amethyst V in a Pelican with the mission of finding the hospital in the small city of Algren and taking it back from the Covenant. The Covenant were pushing on towards a UNSC weapons cache, a hangar five miles out of Allgren surrounded by large walls, with the intention of finding in heavy equipment, studying it, and building better defenses towards it. The Marines would need the hospital to keep troops in the fight. Mannid hit the ground running, toting his BR55 Rifle as careful as a baby, and high-tailed it to the corner of a large office-building. His men fell in right behind him and lined up along the side of the building while he leaned out and laid down covering fire, catching an Elite off guard with several bursts to the head and taking him to the ground. The Grunts under that Elite's command threw up their arms and fled for cover while Mannid and his platoon darted across the street and into a narrow alley where they would progress to the hospital.
The platoon of ten looked back to the street that they had just crossed. They realized immediately that they had become a platoon of nine when they saw the body of the last person to run, his dark skin melting off of his face, the effect of an overcharged plasma pistol. The Marines hesitated only for a moment before continuing on, because they had all prepared for such losses. They had just enough morale to try to take back the hospital, but the loss of a comrade didn't sting as badly as it once had.
"Garth, you know what to do," Mannid said as he pointed to a ladder that went up the side of a building. Garth nodded his head once and clamored up the rungs, pulled his sniper rifle out, and went into a prone position. He clicked the zoom once and saw nothing but the fog that Amethyst V was known for. He zoomed in again to 10X magnification and found what he needed. There were shadows cast against the fog, and Garth smiled in amusement as he watched a smaller shadow get smacked behind the head by a much larger one. The sniper knew that his team would be waiting for his directions. "Move up and split into two units of four, one unit behind each of the two adjacent dumpsters up the alley." He watched as Mannid split his platoon with precision, knowing the strengths he wanted for each unit, and they walked in a crouch halfway down the alley until they got to the large, metal dumpsters.
"Garth," Mannid said, "there's no need for you to open fire if all it's going to do is open a can of worms on us." The Corporal had a hint of nervousness in his voice, and Garth could only guess that seeing a man's face be melted off had touched a rather sensitive part of his brain.
"Negative, sir" the sniper replied, fixing his cross-hairs on the outline of an Elite's head. "Throw those pineapples," he said into his radio. He waited until he could see the frag grenades fly through the air, one grenade for each of the eight soldiers in the alley, and then took out his target. A geyser of blood poured from the wound in his head as he fell to the ground, and all Hell broke loose. Showers of plasma rushed towards Garth, but he was able to roll behind a vent just as a plasma rifle bolt whizzed past the area where his head once was. Just when the Covenant were feeling safe with the sniper pinned down, the pineapples did their work. Explosions rocked the Covenant forces, sending two Elites, five Grunts and a Jackal flying through the air.
"Open fire!" Mannid yelled out at the top of his lungs. Two Marines from each of the four-man units popped up from behind their cover, including Mannid, and let their bullets rip through the air. The Covenant, as startled as they were, were able to respond well. They split their forces into two and took cover behind the two buildings that made up the alley. The small arms of Grunts shot around the corner and unleashed a volley of bright blue balls. Plasma grenades. "Fall back!" shouted Mannid at the top of his lungs. The whole, with the exception of Garth, began running back down the alley, but one of them did not. She was their com expert, Private Kelly Washington. She hurried to gather up their communications equipment. "Dammit Kelly, leave it!" Mannid shouted, trying to get her to move. She looked up and gave the Corporal a blank stare. The shock of the battle was getting to her. When Private Washington had finally overcome the sudden volley of grenades she stood up... just in time for an airborne plasma grenade to latch onto her pack. She began running towards he comrades in arms, wondering why they were holding out their hands and screaming for her to ditch her pack, but she was almost there... when a single gunshot rang out, Kelly Washington's body fell to the ground and then burst into many pieces. Corporal Mannid's Magnum had a wisp of smoke coming from the end of the barrel.
"Kelly is dead because of those bastards. Let's send those blue-blooded freaks to Hell for it!" he shouted. The Covenant began flooding into the alley, and the Marines realized just how many there were for the first time. Garth didn't even have to aim. Wherever he shot, he could hit a Covenant.
* * *
Garth took note of the ventilation shaft at the right. It could lead him to safety... but the moment he moved, Mannid would surely blow him away. The Corporal had amazing accuracy. "Sir," Garth said, slowly as to not spook the deranged soldier, "it's just the shock of battle. I never sold us out to the Covenant, sir. Let call in for a Pelican so we can get you some help."
"No!" Mannid cried with a flinch. In his sudden burst of rage, a shot rang from the Magnum. The round struck Garth in the shoulder and knocked the wounded man into the wall. Mannid gasped. "No... what have I done. The Corps. will have me cooked for what I've done.." Mannid said in a raspy, de-hydrated, choked voice. Garth watched the Corporal with his eyes wide open, both from the sudden crack of pain in his shoulder and in amazement of the Corporal's insanity. The madman looked at his victim, looked him dead in the eyes, and said "Garth, I will not live as a prisoner for my acts today. I could finish you off quite easily right now, one bullet to the brain or the heart... but there's only one bullet left in this gun. Goodbye, Garth." And with that twisted salutation, the Corporal put the gun underneath his chin and pulled the trigger, splattering his twisted mind across the room. A wave of pity swept over Garth. He was the only one left from his platoon, and the UNSC was rapidly losing ground on Amethyst V. But he would survive. By God he would get off this rock in one piece of kill hundreds of Covenant trying.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outburst of garbled cries from down the hallway. Covenant, and closing in on him it seemed. He clamored to his feet as quick as he could as their shadows emerged from around the corner. With no where else to go, the injured sniper dove down the ventilation shaft, his blood painting his path behind him, and let gravity do the rest of the work. It was a long, steep drop down, but it was better than a plasma shower. The shaft slowly began to bend upwards and it turned from a steep drop into a slide, and he could now see the end of it. There was light on the other end of the tunnel... it was the outside. He braced for impact as his bloody slide threw him to the outside, face-first into gravel... and directly in front of a Warthog. He cast a glance up from the ground and saw its massive tires sitting there, waiting for him, beckoning him. "This is Echo 322, does anyone read me? Over," came a voice from a radio within the 'Hog. It was undoubtedly a pilot, hopefully with a Pelican. Garth scrambled to his feet to grab the radio, letting his renewed hope wash away the pain.
"Echo 322, I read you, this is Private Garth Lincoln, I need immediate evac, over," Garth responded. He looked around him. No Covenant had come to his little spot behind the hospital... yet.
"Yeah, Garth, you were with Mannid, right? We're picking up a load of Marines down at Karanta Beach, it's just a little ways south of the hospital, I can get you in our bird there. Watch for the cliff," the pilot said. Garth heaved a sigh of relief as he hopped into the Warthog. The keys were still in the ignition. He turned them... and heard nothing more than the whining noise of a troubled engine.
"Dammit, come on!" he shouted as he turned the keys again, only to get the same reaction as before. It was then that he heard a loud thud, followed by a deep rumble. Garth slowly cast his eyes up from the keys, to the steering wheel, to the windshield, and then finally to the Brute that had just discovered him.
Argos watched the human grab the ignition device of its primitive vehicle and try to make it move. The piece of filth was broken, and the annoying whining noise that came from it confirmed that. The Brute walked arrogantly over to his prey, sure that this was nothing more than a trapped punching-bag... when two bright lights suddenly flashed on from the green vehicle, accompanied with a roar of defiance. Its wheels spun angrily, kicking up a cloud of dust, and the thing charged at the stunned Brute.
Garth peeled off in the Warthog and headed straight for the gray-skinned Covenant. The thing leaped into the air and landed down on the hood of the jeep, the look of horror that lived in its eyes now replaced with fury. Garth put the pedal to the floor and took off down the road, trying to see past the huge thing that hung onto the windshield. The sky was filled with UNSC ships that were rapidly being blown to bits and Covenant ships that were getting ready to glass the planet. He estimated that he would have ten minutes to get out of there. Suddenly, the beast on top of the Warthog reached over and grabbed the windshield by its side and pulled, completely ripping the thing off of the vehicle and discarding it like garbage. Garth had nothing protecting him now, not even the thin glass. The thing smiled at its accomplishment and grabbed Garth's left arm as the Warthog continued to speed down the road, headed straight for the beach. Without hesitation, the Brute began to pull at Garth's arm, meaning to rip it off, but slow enough to instill every bit of pain he could within the Marine. Garth cried out in pain. He could feel his muscles tearing, his joints separating, and his bullet wound stretching. He kept the accelerator floored and threw his right hand out to the passenger seat, looking for anything that would help him. What he found was a sub-machine gun. He was eager to get this thing off of his Warthog, and even more eager to keep his left arm, and with only his right hand he began opening fire on his foe. He poured bullets into the Brute's hand first, getting it to release his arm. The gorilla-like Covenant gave a shriek of pain and threw its fists into the air in anger before pounding them down onto the dashboard of the Warthog. Garth raised the SMG again, kept the accelerator down, and took aim for the chest... but was stopped short. There was a sudden bump, and then butterflies filled his stomach. The Warthog had gone over the cliff. The Brute opened its mouth to yell something, anything, but was silenced by a very sharp rock. Garth didn't even have time to brace for his meeting with solid earth, and the last thing he saw was an overwhelming blackness accompanied by the sounds of the tide. At least he had made it to the beach.
The blackness hung over him like a bad dream. Blink. Everything was really blurry now, but he could start to see something. It was all very dark, wherever he was. Blink. Now he could see it.
"Garth, you are one hell of a lucky Marine," someone said. It was another Marine. Garth sat up and found himself on a small pallet in a Pelican. A bandage was wrapped around his head and shoulder. "Take it easy, soldier," the man said. "You've seen a lot of action lately. Now, do you recognize anyone here from your platoon?"
Garth shook his head. Through a window he could see Amethyst V being glassed, destroyed. "No... no one at all."
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