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PostPosted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 7:46 pm 
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The Albatross, the UNSC's replacement and successor to the aging and outdated pelican, left the UNSC Frigate Avalon three hours earlier than it should have. Not that it mattered too much, it just meant the mission would be completed sooner. It was a heavily armored and armed transport. Its armaments was two inboard missile pods built in the wings, four dual-barrel gauss cannons turrets located on the top, bottom, nose, and tail, eight automated anti-air rotory autocannons located on the top and bottom of the wings, and a triple-stage chaff and flare system for counter-offensive measures.

On board was a mixed Fireteam. A lone SPARTAN-V sat apart from the others, cycling the bolt of a SRS99C S6BP AM Sniper rifle. The Spartan, designated SPARTAN-D295, was watching the three ODSTs that made up the rest of his team. Fitting, as he was the Fireteam leader. Two of the ODSTs, engaged in a push-up contest as a means of showing off, he'd been on three missions with. The third, napping behind a crate of fragmentation grenades, was a unknown to him. All the Spartan knew was that the ODST was a marksman from the dossier on him. Most of it was coated in black ink. Not as much as his own dossier, but darn close to it.

"Yo, Spartan, front and center," The Albatross' pilot, some hotshot that was fresh outta boot camp, "Got something for you to see."

"On my way," The Spartan replied, standing while putting the sniper rifle he had on his back, "Fireteam, stand by."

He entered the cockpit of the Albatross, spotting a strange writhing tear that made his visor polarize to 65%. It was odd, giving him a bad feeling about it. Apparently Lunamaria had one as well, since she wirelessly connected to the Albatross's system. Lunamaria was a fellow Spartan who had her consciousness flashed into a digital form. He managed to rescue her by trapping her consciousness in an AI chip that he kept inserted in his helmet. She wasn't happy about it at first but she found she could do more for him as an AI than a human.

"Don't like it," The Spartan said, as he looked at the pilot, who shook his head at the unasked question.

"Lock and load, Team," He said as he returned to the cargo area, "Things are about to get interesting."

He gave the crate of grenades a kick, shoving it into the sleeping ODST.


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 7:50 pm 

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Scott had been made aware of the mission only this morning. It wasn't unusual for missions to be given with late notice so the ODST suited up and got himself ready. He met the other two on his team, both bigger than himself and in constant feats of strength against each other as a way to prove who was stronger, faster, the better soldier. Scott shoved his way between the two, throwing an arm around both of their shoulders.
"Ready lads? Or do I gotta play ref again?" He laughed and ducked under the fist of one man, jogging away to finish getting ready.

He hadn't formally met the Fireteam leader yet, and knew nothing more than his designated name, SPARTAN-D295.

As the team loaded the Albatross, Scott settled behind the crate of fragmentation grenades to catch a nap before the mission as it was unlikely he would get much restful sleep once they started. He removed his helmet, placing it beside himself, and propped his gun next to this before leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

As the flight went on, Scott found himself dreaming of past missions. As his dream self brought his gun up to cover a fellow ODST he was awoken by something ramming into his side. Jolting awake, he first looked to the crate which had slammed into him before turning his eyes up to the leader of their team.

"Sorry, cap. Must a given in to the sweet temptation of a little beauty sleep, we all know there won't be much beauty in the field." He chuckled before standing up and replacing his helmet. Swinging his gun into his hands he nodded that he was ready. He wasn't sure how far he could push this guy before he snapped, but he felt like boundaries would be tested.

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PostPosted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 10:11 pm 

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Micky had gotten to the Albatross a few seconds before the second ODST arrived he knew there Fireteam leader already having gone on three mission with the Spartan before hand. SPARTAN-D295, the man had saved his live a number of times while on those missions he was a darn fine man and a even better captain.


He would have thanked the spartan but a smack to the back of his helmet, had sent him into a fierce competition with the other ODST. Soon the third, of there party had showed up and made himself know to the others then dodging a punch delivered by the other ODST. Soon Micky and the other ODST where on the ground doing push-ups.

Not to long after the spartan had came back in, kicking a crate at the sleeping ODST. He was up pretty quick after that.

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PostPosted: Sat Oct 29, 2016 12:37 am 
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"Lock and load, people," The Spartan said, quickly grabbing equipment and attaching it to his armor, namely a pair of custom energy swords, "Mick, Vehicle Demo. New guy, Sniper."

His orders weren't really given harshly, just given in such a way that he wouldn't take backtalk at the moment. He loaded a spare ODST pack with extra ammunition, grenades, and medical supplies. This went under the sniper rifle he'd put on his back as he grabbed a covenant plasma rifle that he put on his right thigh. With a check to see that Lunamaria was back in her AI chip, he was all set to go. He sat back in the seat he was in before and yanked the harness above his head down, locking it in place as he look at his team.

"Move it, guys! Lock yourselves down in the harnesses!" He said with an unusually harsh bite in his voice as the wing of the Albatross lurched down, throwing all loose equipment everywhere in the cargo hold.


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PostPosted: Sat Oct 29, 2016 4:32 pm 

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Scott saluted when he was given his order before beginning to gather various items and attaching them to himself. He loaded his pack with magazine clips and grenades, stashing an extra med kit amongst the jumble. Slinging this across his back he snatched another rifle just as the Spartan barked out his order for them to get their harnesses on and everything took a nosedive.

As his balance was thrown off, Scott stumbled and felt various pieces of equipment bumped into him in their fall. Absently he hoped nothing would go off with the force but pushed this thought aside as he reached for his harness. Blindly he grabbed the harness as he felt the crate from earlier once more slide into him and pin him against the seats. Grumbling something about how they should have harnesses for the crates he managed to turn himself so his back was to the wall. Using his foot he shoved the crate over and harnessed himself in. The rifle he had been getting before the tip had slipped from his hand and had disappeared somewhere in the mess that was the cargo hold. He prayed he had enough to last without it as he felt he wouldn't have time to grab it after.

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