by TitanC005 The sight ain’t pretty. Four UNSC Army troopers slouched on the side of the road, red flesh scorched where their faces should be. Looks like it had been an execution. ****, the smell ain’t pretty, either. I’d vomit if I hadn’t seen something similar a few blocks back. The city’s silent now. Fires crackle along the edges of plasma burns on the asphalt. Somewhere far away, dropships whir. I won’t lie, the quiet scares me shitless. I can’t grip my MA2B Assault Rifle tight enough. My Colonial Militia fatigues can’t seem to grip me tight enough, either. I don’t mind the sweat keeping them plastered to me. I’m used to it by now. Hell, I can still hear the mass screams that rang out when the Covies attacked the old stadium by the riverside where the civilians had taken shelter. Plasma cannons, fuel rods going off everywhere, then suddenly the screaming stopped. Must have been a slaughter. The Covenant’s already been this way. Split-jaws, by the looks of it. I can see the distinctive, two-pronged impalement wounds of energy swords in at least a dozen civilians as I hustle my way up the street. Crumbling buildings block the hot-red sun. There’s a Falcon transport crashed into the top level of an office complex ahead. Maybe I’m lucky to be alive. Maybe I’m unlucky. Being dead has its perks. No idea what to do now. I’m getting nothing from the UNSC frigate in orbit. The comms are dead. I don’t risk sending out a distress call. The Covies will get to me before anyone else does. I stick to the shadows and keep moving towards the edge of the colony. Each attack has always been the same. The Covenant closes in, destroys whatever fleet’s present, and glasses everything from orbit. Once a colony’s gone dark, you know you won’t be hearing from them again. This time, it’s different. They launched a ground invasion. Might have been better for everyone involved if they had just glassed us to hell. The Colonial Militia only lasted a few hours. Figures when the UNSC arms you with rifles decades out of date. I’m only alive because I hid. You can call it cowardice, I’ll call it pragmatism. I wonder if anyone else did the same, or if I’m the only one scouring through the rubble. Is there any use in fighting if you can’t win? Truth is, there hasn’t been a victory since Cole put the Covies in their place at Harvest. Morale dropped like a rock when the Covenant returned to finish the job. There’s no sign any of that’s about to change. Not here on this good-for-nothing planet in the middle of nowhere. ****, listen to me. I shouldn’t talk about my homeworld like that. It’s about as far from someplace as you can get, and I used to like that. The planet’s pretty arid, mostly badlands beyond the shores of the river. Scientists think the planet might have been more temperate, but some kind of event wiped out the majority of the ecosystem. Not a whole lot going on here except for mining, but we got by. Point is, I don’t think the UNSC is going to saddle up and lead a glorious charge to fight the Covenant back from here. Not even Admiral Cole. Harvest was about as fertile a world as they come. The big brass pushing papers at their desks probably don’t think we’re worth saving. My buddies, my family, they’re probably all dead. That realization hit while I was huddled in the dark of the cellar I crawled out of. I’ve cried myself dry now. All I can feel is this weary emptiness as I stumble through the carnage. Embers still eat away at an overturned Warthog, and the soldiers that had once manned it. I can’t even recognize the figures in a blackened crater. Must have been from a Wraith mortar. They pounded the city for a good hour before the troops moved in. And the troops, they’re everywhere. Grunts, they call them, scattered like leaves. Their blood glows in a sickening blue. They’re ugly little things, really, wrapped in gas masks and tanks that make them look like shock troops from an old Earth war. You should hear them bark. When there’s hundreds of them all at once, yapping and gunning down everything that moves like rabid animals – No questioning why I hid. The whine of a Covenant Banshee raises the hair from my skin. I duck into an alleyway. Three of the purple-glinting craft zoom overhead. The shriek of their thrusters dissipates. Blue energy trails behind them. I try to avoid gazing at the Covenant Destroyers looming in the red sky above. There are eight of them. By some twisted logic, I hope that if I don’t see them, they won’t see me. Whatever they might do if they did. I wait until I’m sure it’s clear and move on. About all I can do at the moment. I joined the Colonial Militia because of the Insurrection. I’m no president of the UNSC fan club, but killing colonists doesn’t sit well with me, either. I wanted to keep this quiet place exactly the way it was, so I signed up. Looks like the Covies beat the Innies here. After the Covenant declared war on us, I guess the Innies just became an annoying itch. Not worth scratching when the rest of you has been set on fire. I don’t know if I’d have joined if I’d known about the Covenant then. I guess I’d be no safer as a civilian. My MA2B in my hands gives me some sense of safety. False, but at this point I’m not really giving two shits about whether my marginal sense of safety is realistic or not. The Covenant can go ahead and take that away from me, too. A traffic light winks green at me as I approach an intersection. It’s oddly empty. The buildings around it are half-collapsed. The light-post itself is a kind of pillar, with flickering panels buzzing around it. The light winks again. It’s good to see the Custodian – the colony’s AI – still intact. Makes me feel like I’m not alone. I wonder what’s going through its mind. Probably nothing more than why it can’t connect with half the city right now, oblivious to the alien invasion. It’s just a dumb computer program. I follow its directions anyways. I need to get out of the city fast, and the Custodian seems to have an idea. What I’m going to do when I get out of here…hell, I don’t know. Fix up a barbeque and invite the Covies for a dinner party. They can bring the God damn dessert. A series of sharp growls brings me to a stop. In the road that peels off to the left, four aliens are circled around a trooper’s corpse. They’re big bastards, hairy too. Eight-foot-tall gorillas with tusks, muscles that could flatten me into a human pancake. I bet they’d enjoy that. I’ve never seen these kind of Covies before. They’re freaks all the same. They almost look tougher than split-jaws, but their eyes lack that chilling intelligence. These are closer to animals. Their armor is meager. Leather-like bandoliers wrap around their bristling bodies, packed full with what must be some kind of grenade. They carry heavy, pistol-looking weapons. Two blades arch beneath the barrel. They’re covered in blood. So are the aliens’ faces. They continue to growl at each other. Three of them have brown fur. Who must be the leader is more silvery. The silver alien swipes the other three away and bites into the soldier’s arm. The corpse lets out a weak moan. My God, he’s still alive. The Custodian impatiently blinks for me to go the other way. One of the brown-furred aliens lifts its hollow nose and sniffs the air. I run. Snarls fill the streets. Oh **** – I can hear them lumbering after me. I cross another intersection, run as fast as my legs can carry me. It’s no use, they’re closing in. Why did I leave the damn cellar? I whip around. My rifle clicks into action. They’re less than a few dozen feet away now. Charging on all fours, roaring. I open fire. From the intersecting street, an automated city bus slams into the aliens at full speed. I don’t wait to see if they’re dead. And I’m sorry about calling the Custodian stupid. The AI leads me on. Banshees circle for another pass. As long as I’m in the city, I still have cover from them. Out in the desert, it’ll be a different story. Before I know it, I’m standing at the riverbank. I swift current runs along the concrete-walled channel. Hell, the AI wants me to jump. I’d argue with it if I had a better idea. I plunge into the water. Struggle for a moment as the rapids carry me away. I can do nothing but let the current take me. The story of my life. ------- I crawl out of the river a few miles east. I don’t look at the city until after I’ve sprawled myself on the red sand to catch my breath. It’s a sight I can’t shake out of my head while I’m trudging across the barrens some minutes later. Fires still rage. A solid band of smoke arcs across the western sky. Those damn destroyers, still hovering there, waiting for God knows what. There are mountains a couple miles to the southeast. I calculate my odds of making it there. I’m not good at math, but I figure I’m a dead man anyways, so I take my chances. My MA2B is as good as useless – all of the powder in my rounds are drenched. I hold onto it anyways. The sun’s setting now. I don’t know if this sky can get any redder. At least it’s getting cooler, so the heat won’t kill me before the Covenant does. It’s cloudy tonight. There’s a sickening, orange glow in the west. Fires burning on. Lights along the edges of the destroyers blink and flash. They mustn’t have found what they were looking for yet, or else they wouldn’t still be here. Or else I wouldn’t still be here. I walk all through the night. Nights can get cold here like you wouldn’t believe. My combat fatigues pull through. It’s a little warmer than usual. Must be the heat from the glassed city. I try to keep my mind off of that. Covenant dropships comb the surrounding desert. Their spotlights blaze bright from the pronged hulls. They look like giant, purple tuning forks. They’re funnier if you think of them that way. Finding humor in the dumbest **** is about all that keeps me going. How do I feel? Hell if I know. I’m not burning with revenge, if that’s what you mean. Wanting to kill them all, not really. I just want to get the hell off this rock to somewhere safe. I guess nowhere is anymore. The dropships come close, but I’m never in any danger. Not yet. They’re still searching pretty close to the city. Some are landing hunting parties and scout vehicles. More Banshees are overhead. Something tells me I can’t be the only one left, not with all this going on. The rising sun is an unfriendly reminder of where I am. Smoke still clouds the damn sky. Part of me was really believing I would wake up from all this. That part’s gone now. I’m near the mountains, navigating from rock to rock for cover. They form arching columns towards the slopes. Even as I near the heights, I don’t feel the relief I thought I would. Maybe it’s the fact that I can still see the burning remains of the city. Or the whir of approaching Ghosts. I spin and spot three of the hovercraft zooming over the lowlands in a V-formation. Energy streaks in their wake. They’re moving damn fast, and right towards me. Hell if they haven’t seen me yet, I’m running up the slopes as fast as I can. Their plasma cannons discharge. Blue-hot bolts splash into the dry rock around me. Out of nowhere, a pair of rockets stream from higher up. The Ghosts explode in balls of fire and sharp-blue lightning. The third Ghost turns on a dime and boosts full speed away. I squint at the gritty figures that emerge from the rocks above. Most of them are holding bulky HMG-38 Rifles, two with SPNKr Rocket Launchers mounted on their shoulders. They’re wearing rust-colored clothes that had seen better days, tightly-wound headbands, and bandanas. I almost can’t see them because they’re blended in so well. But they’re not UNSC, I can tell you that much. “Don’t just stand there, kid,” one of them calls to me. “We don’t have all day.” He has a point. They retreat into the mountain. I follow them to the mouth of a cave. Or, I realize as I step in, a mine. Beams hold up the sharply-cut tunnel of clay. The group’s flashlights glare at me as they stand in an old elevator. I shield my eyes. “You’re Colonial Militia, yeah?” another asks. “Yes, sir. Don’t know what good I’ll do you, though.” Metal clangs as I step onto the platform. I feel suddenly trapped as the cage slams shut around us. The elevator grinds in its descent. I finally ask it, “Who are you?” I meet the eyes of the nearest fighter. His look is enough to tell me. “Innies,” I answer my own question. Red bedrock blurs past. It’s a damn shame these rats survived when everyone else gave their lives to defend the colony. They just hid under a rock and let it all happen. God damn, I need some sleep. I ask the next sensible question that comes to mind, “Where are we?” “The BXR titanium mines. Doesn’t matter now if I tell you it’s been our base of operations for the past decade. And it’s why the Covenant’s here.” “What, for the titanium?” “No, for something else. The crew came across an artifact buried in the rock, sent a transmission to the UNSC about it, and next we know, the Covies show up. No, Mr. Militia, they’re not here for the titanium.” I try to wrap my head around it. Maybe this thing they’ve uncovered makes us worth saving after all. Whatever sense of reality I’m still holding onto slips away as the shaft opens up into a massive cavern. Most of it is sharply-hewn rock. Floodlights shine onto a formation that looks anything but natural. It’s a sheen gray – metal or rock, I can’t tell – a sort of wall covered in geometric grooves. Braces jut out at forty-five-degree angles. Judging by how large they are, this must be only the tip of the iceberg. Orange lights shimmer along the angled planes. I have no idea what I’m looking at. It might be thousands of years old. Hell, maybe millions. What must be dozens of Innies and BXR workers are running everywhere. They almost look like bees from up here. A lot of them are carrying weapons – MA5 Rifles, SRS99 Snipers, SPNKr’s. There’s even a Warthog parked near bay doors on the far end of the cavern. The Covenant has awoken a hornet’s nest we didn’t even know was buried here. I guess Innies are better than nothing. I hate to admit they look better organized than we were. The elevator screeches to a halt and the cage slides open in a similarly unpleasant noise. The Innies lead me to what looks like a command center – an olive tent filled with buzzing terminals. A woman is leaning over a hologram table that shows a mess of Covenant forces inbound. The fighter next to me coughs and she turns. She’s fifty-something, and looks like she crawled out of the dirt we’re standing on. She probably hasn’t seen a shower in days. Her wrinkled face is both old and cunning. There’s a wisdom in her eyes that makes me want to trust her, but I know I probably shouldn’t. Wiry, gray hair escapes beneath a wool hat. Her tattered fatigues don’t look any better off than the other soldiers’. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she remarks. An Innie says, “We found him picking flowers out back.” I swallow, noticing only then my mouth’s painfully dry. “Ma’am. Private Wallace, Colonial Militia.” Her eyes narrow. “Are you all that’s left?” “I…think so, yes.” She catches my hesitation. “I’m Athena Kale, and I’m in charge. That’s all you need to know about me.” Hell, I’ve heard of her before. She was supposed to be ex-Navy or something. The UNSC listed her as KIA after a skirmish thirty years ago. She had just recently shaken things up after announcing she wasn’t quite as KIA as we thought, and not on hugging terms with the UNSC either. “Ma’am,” is my only response. “I’m glad you listen,” she says. “Now get some new gear and head out with the others. The Covenant’s pinned down our location and coming in force. You’re fighting.” Well, ****. ------- Grunts swarm by the hundreds. I’m crouched near the entrance of the cave with several dozen Innies around me. Rifle fire sprays the formations – if they could be called that. It only takes a few bursts to pop a methane tank and light them up, but damn are there so many of them. I duck as green plasma bolts boil away the rock I’m taking cover behind. Dropships hover a tentative distance away. A destroyer’s directly over us now. The underside of the starship glares with its plasma lances at the ready. It doesn’t fire, though. Only sits there, waiting. I think I would feel better somehow if it did launch an attack. “Focus, trooper!” The shout snaps me back to attention. I rise and unload into the Grunts below. They’re scaling the mountain now, firing as they hobble along. Their shrill barks and cackles send a chill up my spine. Phosphorescent blood is splashed everywhere. I slam a fresh clip into my rifle and keep shooting. How much ammo are we going through? I chance a look back. ****, we’ve only got a few mags left. Throwing away the little bastards until we’re out of ammo – we’ll have nothing left by the time the real threats roll in. A dropship swerves towards the far end of the line. Its turret melts the slopes. Innies scramble away. The side doors wing open, and a troop of Jackals leaps out. Their buckler-shields light red against the bullets that stream their way. Needlers tear through the front lines. The soldiers hardly have time to scream before they burst in a pink mist. The Jackals creep forward. I keep firing. Their shields won’t waver for an instant. “Here!” The Innie behind me slaps a frag grenade in my hand. I duck behind cover, pull out the pin in my teeth, and hurl it towards the Jackal phalanx. Dirt flies up from the blast. It’s not the world’s best throw, but it knocks the Jackals off their balance enough for the soldiers behind me to get in a flurry of shots. Purple blood runs. I gain hold of my rifle and mop up the mess. The rattle of a chain gun patters in the distance. I catch the Warthog emerge from around the southern side of the mountain. Grunts in its path scatter. Rows of them collapse. It circles around them and tries to herd them away from the mountain. Fully-charged plasma bolts fly towards it. It skids to a stop as a lucky shot lands. Sparks flare. A hulking form pushes through the ranks, and the Warthog explodes in green. By the time the smoke clears, the Hog is a flaming wreck. “Hunters!” Four pairs of the aqua-gray giants march to the front line. The spines on their backs flex. The cannons mounted on their arms grow an electric green. Next I know, fuel rods are exploding everywhere. SPNKr rockets fly and send Grunts in all directions. The Hunters, shield arms raised, don’t look so much as phased as they are annoyed. Someone gives the order to retreat. I don’t know who it is or where they are, but as soon as the Innies start running, so do I. The Grunts bark and shout behind us, close. There’s a sharp whine, and an explosion throws me off my feet. All sound goes out. The last thing I hear is the Grunts before I black out. ------- I’m sitting against the artifact. My head is hammering. Athena Kale is in a whispered conversation with her senior officers. Plasma hisses against the cavern barricades. They don’t sound like they’ll hold long. Wounded lie all around. Casualties outnumber the living now. If we have to leave in a hurry, I don’t think we’ll be able to get them out. Why we’re still here, I don’t know. I slap my hand against the cold metal of the artifact. Its orange lights flicker. “I don’t have the time, Grim. Those damn charges better be set in two or we aren’t getting out of here.” Kale’s voice is raised now. She’s speaking through clenched teeth. I eye the demolition teams scrambling about the mine. Denying the enemy the artifact might be the only scrap of victory left to us. That, and burying their army beneath the mountain. Either way, we’re all dead men walking. I try to stand up, but my legs don’t cooperate. It’s not until I glance down that I notice they’re gone. “****…” There’s nothing there. Just red-drenched cloth tied in a vice grip around the stumps. I turn and vomit. “****…” “Well well, Private’s awake.” Kale strides up to me, slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Plasma grenade got you. One of the bastards had a lucky toss. Good thing you weren’t conscious when Grim saved your ass. Had to take your legs off. You should have seen–” “What’s going on? Didn’t meant to interrupt your tea time.” “The Covies are breaking in, and we’re giving them one final dance before we head for the hills.” “Wonderful.” I look around. They’re loading the living and the wounded into a fleet of trucks and other vehicles. I notice, it’s only the ones that can hold a gun, and have both legs at that. “You…you can’t just…” Kale says nothing as she forces a radio-looking device into my hand. But it’s not a radio. It’s a God damn detonator. “You can’t expect me to–” “The charges are set to go off in ten minutes if you don’t set them off first. After the Covies break through, hold off until the last possible moment. Then bury them all.” She turns and marches towards the vehicles, her command following. My hands tremble. “Wait…wait, where are you going?” “We’re running, Wallace. To anywhere but here.” It’s the last I hear from her before she swings into the driver’s seat of a survey buggy. The engine growls. Bay doors grind open on the far end of the cave. Dust billows in. All at once, the vehicles roll out onto the desert. The doors close behind them. I don’t try to think about how long they won’t last out there. As if I give a rat’s ass about the ****ers now. God damn – I try to move. No luck. I’m stuck in a cave with no way to run anymore. I’m going to die here. There was always some kind of hope with running. Even if it meant you wouldn’t live for much longer. It was something you could do against an otherwise inevitable fate. Now that fate’s caught up with me. There’s nothing I can do now. My hands grow numb around the detonator. The explosion echoes as the Covenant finally breach. I swallow, expecting a horde of Grunts to swarm in. There are a dozen or so troopers kneeling before the doors higher up. They suddenly fall back as a lance of split-jaw Elites charge through. Energy swords crackle. I bite my lip, do the only thing I can. Wait. It’s only seconds before the troopers are all dead. The Elites push on, Grunts, Hunters, and Jackals following in their wake. The mine is crawling with Covenant now. I lay there, slumped against the high wall of the artifact. Maybe they’ll think I’m dead. Other wounded crawl away. The Elites march up and begin their methodical executions. I shut my eyes, but it doesn’t shut out the screaming. Holding my breath, I dare to open them. Dear God, there’s an Elite only half a dozen meters in front of me. Its toothed mandibles spread, dark, fierce eyes dart to and fro. The dual energy swords in its hands sputter with plasma. Its eyes zero in on me. “****–” Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Is there any point in fighting if there’s no hope for survival? The Elite lunges. My hand clamps around the detonator. Everything goes white. ------- End.
The pictures are messy and detailed at the same time... I like them! Lemme finish the story though. Incoming wall of text! lol
Thank you. That would be me trying to develop an art style around the fact that I can't do photorealistic digital paintings But thanks for reading!
First corrections then my opinion (which is good). Wall of text hidden for sanity's sake. Spoiler First thing I noticed: The use of the word '****' is good throughout the whole of the story. It REALLY gives a more personal account from this waylaid soldier. I like it's use overall. However, you did you use '****' and 'shitless' within close enough proximity that it did stand out to me in the second and third paragraph. I would advise spacing it's usage out more, or replacing one of the words. My opinion, no grammatical error, just something that stood out to me. I absolutely love this line. Do not, under pain of death, change this line in any way, shape or form, from now until this is published. Third: the name of 'the Custodian' just doesn't have that 'halo-ey' feel. I get where you're coming from trying to keep with the theme of the city AI's and 'the superintendent,' but I don't get that feeling from this name. Just a thought. Again, I love this line, however, I would change it to 'damned'. It feels like it flows better with the extra 'ed' on the end. My personal opinion, again, just a thought. Grammatical mistake: Replace the 'I' with 'A'. Reword this sentence. It makes grammatical sense. But read it out loud. It doesn't sound like spoken English. The words 'drenched' and 'powder' need to be closer together to make it feel more natural. Opinion again. The Narrator has already stated that these men are not militia or UNSC, so he shouldn't be saying 'sir'. Just a thought. The Narrator has already stated that he hid during the attack as well. Kind of an ironic and self-defeating statement. I don't think that was what you had purposed this sentence for however. I recommend changing it or deleting it. Lulz. BXR. Perfect ending to that portion of the text. I can tell you're trying to emulate Dr. Halsey in this Athena Kale. You've done a good job of emulating her, but making her different enough that we get the sense of Halsey but envision someone completely different. Reword to something like 'I catch the Warthog emerging from around the southern side of the mountain, scattering Grunts in its path. If you don't make it one sentence, at least reword the second one you have. Needs to have a present participle ( I think at least.) i.e. 'ing' ending since you should use the word 'emerging' instead of 'emerge.' Personal opinion. Bad day to be on the receiving end of that phalanx.lol. Good work. Suggest change to 'is having' instead of 'is in'. The portion just before this has some powerful imagery in it. Good job. I would suggest putting some kind of description on how this Athena speaks to the Private. He just lost his legs, that's kind of a big deal and we have no emotional response from Athena. For clarification's sake, 'no emotional response' is not the same as 'cold'. If that's what you want is 'cold' from her, then write it that way. The lack of description does not a description make. I was curious as to how she was talking. Whether she was harsh, emphatic, sympathetic or cruel; I couldn't tell from how it's written now. Something to think about. Personally, I loved it. It's a great fan-fiction, short story with a good ending. I do feel however that the ending could be better. I feel like the climax is too swift and lackluster, build it up more. Make it something great. You've got an amazing start, it shouldn't be too hard. The art. What can I say. It fits perfectly. Not too much to call it a 'picture book' and not too little to be wondering 'why were there random images in there?' Your 'style' is a perfect fit too. Well done. I found myself reading through it quickly the first time just so I could see the next picture. I look forward to the sequel. Maybe an Athena Kale prequel describing her navy-life and how she became 'KIA'.
Wow, Echo, thanks a lot for the feedback! You've given me a lot to work with. I know how you feel about the ending. That seems to be a pattern in most of my writing. I'll see what I can do to add some more length and excitement to the ending. There was a second ending that I cut out involving the Custodian, actually. After the bombs go off, the main character thinks he's dead, and then has a cryptic conversation with a (Forerunner) AI that was actually inhabiting the Custodian, and guiding him to this place. However, I took it out because I felt it overcomplicated an otherwise decent piece. I guess I didn't intend for there to be a sequel of any sort, but I think Athena Kale would be an interesting character to center around in the future. I think she knows more about the Forerunner artifact than she lets on. Thanks again for the comments and criticisms!
i like the art. is it all painted with tablet in PS? what was your reference? or just all from your mind?
Titan, no problem. I have a lot of experience reviewing/ critiquing/ editing literary works while I have next to no experience doing the same with visual pieces. It's a rare chance I get to actually apply my experience in this corner of the 'Hub. And I, like Titmar, am curious as to how you made your artwork? Immediately I thought they were well photoshopped screenshots from Reach (particularly the banshee and hunter ones). Except for the first one and the artifact one. Those two look completely hand made.
The art is all done in Photoshop, and it's kind of a mix of screenshot manips and original art. Pictures 2, 3, and 5 are all screenshots that I messed around with. Sometimes they're more than one screenshot. For example, the 3rd picture is a combination of this screenshot and this screenshot, with cruisers added in the sky. The rest (the trooper, the Forerunner wall, and the Elite close-up) are all original art. I did have a screenshot for reference which I pretty much painted over for the trooper, but I got a little more confident as I went and did the other two from scratch.
Wow. That's sick dude. You've definitely got a talent not just for writing but illustrating what you want your vision of the story to be. Definitely keep this up. I really want to see more.