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Lost ODST: Part 1
Date: 9 February 2006, 7:56 pm
Author's note(gasp: Yea it's short. One could argue that the entire series could be made into one submission, but I wanted to get a feel for the audience. Enjoy.
Holy shit have I got a headache! thought Peter D'Amico as he regained consciousness. I need a drink, bad. As Pete opened his eyes groggily thinking of the pain numbing effects of alcohol, he suddenly became painfully aware of his situation in a very enclosed space and no light at all. Panicking, he started pounding on the solid metal walls. The walls felt as if they were pressing in and suffocating him. Suddenly, the front wall exploded away with a large whoosh and blinding light filled Pete's eyes.
Peter was extremely green for a Helljumper, barely passing ODST "Hell" with plenty of ridicule and disciplinary pushups. He was, however, well skilled in the art of stealth; a trait he possessed since he was a child. This was put to use most often sneaking to the barracks kitchen for a late night sandwich. Ironically, considering his primary infiltration is Drop Pod, Pete was slightly claustrophobic. He hated the small, tight, confines of the Pod and loved the feeling of solid ground when he exited. He could perform his job, but by no means could he excel.
Awkwardly climbing out of the horizontal Pod, D'Amico took a quick look around before reaching back in to pull out his shotgun. Blinking at the midday sun, he set his helmet visor to automatic reduction and left to find cover for the night; hoping he can find some booze to calm his nerves after that harsh fall.
I hope the squads alright. he thought while carefully walking towards the nearest building.
"Oh Peeteyy! C'mere. I gotta show you something!" said Captain James Alan, leader of The Drop. The entire squad has just finished preparations and only Peter remained, hurriedly packing his shotgun into the compartment.
"The hell ya want Jackass?" D'Amico yelled with an impatient tone. He was already last to pack his pod and was in no emotional shape to get in.
"Yea, go ahead and talk to your superior like that again, see what happens. Now c'mere and take a peek."
"Fine, Sir. What's so damn important?" While never fond of authority figures, James always treated him like a younger brother, probably out of pity. Peter knew this is why he treated him that way, and he was grateful for it.
When D'Amico arrived at the Captain's Pod, he found Alan rummaging through a rucksack and cursing under his breath.
"The hell I put that thing?" he said angrily. "It's defiantly somewhere. Screw it! I'll show it to you after the Op.
"Your not gunna tell me what it is, are ya Jimmy?"
"Not a chance. You're gunna haveta wait"
"Figures you'd do that. Can I get back to my pod so we can go now?" He said uneasily. "I really wanna be on solid ground'
"Yea alright, we're launching in two"
Back at his Pod, Pete was staring very disheartedly at the crash seat. Ok Pete, you can do this. Just step in and close the door. It's as simple as that. Stupid small pods. Even a Pelican is better than this
"Will you just get in damnit!" said a Helljumper down the lane. "I swear! Every drop he's like this!
Yea Pete, just do it already. You've done thi- Halfway through his thought, he was shoved into his pod and darkness consumed him, signaling the hatch's closure. Panicking, he closed his eyes and tried to let his training take over. Unfortunately, he failed in his attempts and started to push every button except the big red one keeping his straps in place. Not the red button, NOT the red button. Red button good. Keeps me from dying. Seconds of frantic button mashing later, and a calming word from Alan, Pete finally settled down and buckled into the crash seat.
ODST squad Alpha, cleanup mission to Covenant held city, launch in T-minus ten…nine…Internal error. Clamps failing. Pod seven, emergency abort!
Too late did D'Amico realize that he was Pod seven. Those fateful seconds of button mashing caused a malfunction in the dropping clamps, forcing the Pod to release early. A tingle went up his spine as he froze to contemplate what could possibly happen to him. This was a moment too late as the would-be coffin slipped out of its hatch and plummeted to the ground below. Darkness fell upon Peter like a curtain as the voice of James came into his microphone telling him what to do.
"Pete, I need you to stay calm. Hey, I said stay calm!" At this, Peter regained his senses and was able to function semi-normally. "I ain't gunna tell you the landing'll be ok. It won't. Assuming you survive this landing, don't be surprised to be injured. You also can't look out that damn porthole"
At this, D'Amico then looked out of the porthole to see the planet rushing up steadily towards him. "Shit!" he yelled to no-one in particular.
"You looked out the porthole didn't you?" James let out an audible sigh. "Right, when you enter the atmosphere the radio won't work so you'll be by yourself until you land. The chute won't work so you'll have to go in completely by rockets. Once you land, stay put! We'll come get you. Ya hear me son?"
"O-ok"
"Good luck bro"
"Thanks Jim"
The time for rockets came a lot sooner than he had hoped and he frantically smashed the button to activate them. Suddenly, he felt his stomach rise to his throat as the rockets kicked in and slowed his decent somewhat. With a stomach wrenching shift the wind caught the pod and started it tumbling towards the planet, the rockets now only serving to boost the spin of the insertion pod. On the verge of tears, Peter held onto his safety strap for dear life as the pod tumbled out of control. He was unconscious before the vessel pummeled the ground with a deafening bang.
As Pete crept towards his cover for the day, a bar on the corner of the street, he noticed the horrors of war have already made their presence known. The sounds of battle, off to the west, were faint and the warped metal was already cool where the bolts of plasma hit. The sights, however, were still just as horrible. Bodies littered the ground, human and Covenant, covering the ground in blood and the parts of the fallen. The fires of burnt vehicles have started dying down as the fuel ran out from its tanks. D'Amico thought in disgust of war and death as he made his way towards his hiding spot.
I hate this shit. Death is always the same mess.
Upon reaching his haven, he took one last check of the surrounding carnage before retiring to a policed bottle of whiskey. Without thinking, he downed a quarter of what was left of the bottle and placed it next to an overturned and charred stool. He then sat up against the wall closest to the street, laid his shotgun across his lap, and closed his eyes inside his helmet until sundown.
Oh man, tonight's gunna suck, he thought before going to sleep.
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