 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
The Fallen Angels by Captain Bishop
|
Fallen Angels Chapter 1: Operation Angeles
Date: 18 March 2006, 5:14 am
AN:
This is my first fanfiction, so I apologize for any GPS errors and stuff like that. Also i may have the wrong definition for Fallen Angels. I just thought that my definition suited the story best. Anyway thanks for reading my piece. Any constructive criticism will be appreciated.
End AN
December 15, 2552 (Standard Military Calendar)
1852 hours
Earth/ United States
ETA 18 minutes
Operation Angeles
"Damnit! Where the hell is that back up! Simmons, punch us into Fleet comm!
"This is Master Sergeant Benedict Maxwell. Does anyone read me!"
"This is Victor 667. We read you loud and clear Sarge. Is Charlie Company still with us? Over."
"Affirmative Victor 667. Things are heating up down here. But we should be able to hold them off for an hour—maybe less. What's your ETA? Over"
"ETA in eighteen minutes. We'll be there as soon as we can, over and out."
The roar of the pelicans' engines could be heard for miles. 186 Division of ODST, The Fallen Angels, were nearing the LZ. Captain Jacob S. Bishop inspected Foxtrot.
They were dubbed the Fallen Angels for one reason: they killed like them. They were hard core to the bone. They had to be if they ever wanted to live up to their name. They were the angels and messengers of God. They lost their wings for going against him. To repent for this, God made them his personal army. They were his punishers sent to purge his Kingdom of the sinful, the heathens, and the unjust.
Right now, those sinners are the Covenant.
"Everyone good?" he said into his squad's comm.
16 red acknowledgement lights winked on his HUD.
"Thought so," he looked over to the warrior that towered over the rest of his squad. Major Petty Officer Spartan 242.
"Ma'am," he gave a crisp salute. The Spartan turned and returned the salute "Thank you for agreeing on coming with us on this mission."
The Spartan gave a curt nod and continued to look out the rear hatch of the drop ship.
He pondered at what reasons a Spartan would be accompanying a batch of ODSTs on a mission to secure a captured military base. It was ONI, after all who had assigned a new generation Spartan II to them. A new gen Spartan II was one thing to be concerned about, but if ONI was involved he knew this mission wasn't going to be as easy as it sounded.
He had never taken a liking towards the Spartans. He never hated them, of course. With all the successes with the Spartan projects had brought to the UNSC. He never hated, he just disliked. The Spartans seemed artificial. As if it was a hollow shell. No soul just the will to kill. That was how the Helljumpers portray them. He knew this wasn't true, for he had met many Spartans in his services on Earth. Hell, 242 saved his ass on numerous occasions back during Operation Everest. But Operation Everest was a different story. The Covenant found something their and ONI wanted it too. Captain Bishop knew that this was gonna be the same thing.
He shook these memories out of his head and focused on the rest of his team members. Corporal Kayla Barrett. She was assigned to the Fallen Angels three years ago. When she got to the 186th division she was like any other new recruit. And like the others, he had personally trained her to become the keen sniper she was today.
But she's only 24 and here we are possibly sending her to her death. Why the hell is such a young girl here? Why are any of us here?, he questioned. Why was anyone fighting? The humans? The Covenant? Almost all of the soldiers in the Fallen Angels weren't past the age of 36. He was sending kids to their deaths.
This war was just a big load of crap.
Damn. He can't think about these things. He's got a job to do. There is seriously something wrong with me. Second in command, First Lieutenant Jeremy Freeman, his friend since basic, placed his hand on Jacob's shoulder.
"Bishop—sir, are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"Sir…I just got this weird feeling like we ain't gonna get out of here alive." The funny thing is, that Bishop had the same feeling. However, he had to set an example for Foxtrot.
"Stop talking like that, soldier!" commanded Bishop
"Sir!" the Lieutenant snapped to attention, "I apologize, sir!"
"Apology accepted. Now listen up!" he barked over the comm.
"We are gonna land right in the fray and blow the shit out of those squid-faced bastards, stop the invasion of New Angeles, and look good doing it!"
"HOO-RAH!" the ODSTs replied in unison.
The Captain smiled behind his reflective helmet. His Angels weren't going to fail him. Not now, not ever. But before he could boost his squad any further, the pilot called for him.
"Captain, what do ya make of this?" asked the pilot.
Bishop stood there, awe stricken. A cruiser hovered over the city like some foreboding presence. Most of the city was engulfed in flames. Bluish smoke from the ashes of the once heavily populated city hung in a low fog; proof that the covenant had indeed invaded New Angeles. And far below, in the carnage they could see the LZ. He could see the muzzle flashes and plasma fire etch through the dust the skirmish had created. Charlie company was barely keeping the Covenant off of them.
Bishop snapped out of his daze.
"Marine, get us in as fast as you possibly can." Bishop commanded, "Charlie company is in pretty deep, so we're pulling them out. Send this to the other Pelicans." Bishop turned to the rest of Foxtrot. They could tell that they we're in for it.
"Our LZs been screwed so we're going in the old fashioned way." He paused and looked around to his fellow marines, "Guns blazing!"
Foxtrot knew this to be nothing to cheer for, but still got excited, ready to kick some ass.
"Get tactical, Marines!", his fellow soldiers lost to war came to mind, "It's time for some payback!"
The rest of the Angels knew what their CO was talking about. In unison they clicked their safeties off their armaments, and bolted a fresh round into the barrels of each of their weapons.
"Sir Yes, sir!"
Fallen Angels: Operation Angeles: Chapter 2-Contact
Date: 30 March 2006, 8:16 pm
Ninth Age of Reclamation
Covenant CCS-Battle Cruiser Pious Inquisitor
Sol-III
Invasion of the Human Homeworld
The Pious Inquisitor hung over the western hemisphere of the human homeworld called Urth. Ship Master Anea 'Uahamee sat in his command chair awaiting the signal that he was waiting for. As the rest of the fleet was engaged above the human continent Afrikka, the High Prophet of regret had sent Pious Inquisitor to obtain another glorious artifact of the mighty Forerunners. It had been many hours since the invasion of Urth, but the sign that he had been hoping for finally came.
"Your Excellency," one of the subordinates turned to the Ship Master, "we have found the signal."
"Are you sure?" he didn't expect to find the signal so soon.
"Yes, your Excellency." the subordinate said, "It is located in a human held region called Las Anjelees. Shall I call for the consent of the Prophet of Regret?"
"Yes, do it."
"He shall be in your command quarters, your Excellency."
Anea 'Uahamee, stood before a holographic projection of the High Prophet of Regret, his gold armor reflecting the light from the hologram in different directions. Anea quickly bowed as the Prophet turned his attention from his map of the Human City, Nuu Mombassah, to the Ship Master.
"Noble Prophet of Regret, I bring news of the Artifact we had located in the Western Hemisphere of the Human Homeworld."
"Continue, Ship Master. What have you discovered?" The Hierarch eagerly replied.
"My lord, it is as we have thought." The Zealot paused amazed by the discovery, "It is yet another of our lords' sacred creations! The Atlas has been found!"
The prophet stat in his hover-throne, stunned by the discovery. "The Atlas? Are you sure?" The Ship Master rechecked his data. He looked back up to the Prophet and the astonished look on the Sangheili's face had confirmed his suspicions.
"Yes my lord. I am sure of this."
The Prophet seemed puzzled of what to do, at first, but a split second later the Hierarch has made his decision. "Ship Master, send a fleet of your best soldiers to recover the Atlas."
Anea quickly interjected Regret's plan. "But my lord, the Atlas is beneath a human city!"
Regret slammed his bony fist on the right arm-rest of his hover-throne. "Dig beneath it, burn the structures to the ground, do whatever it takes! But whatever you do you must not fail to reclaim the Atlas! With the Atlas the Covenant shall know the location of the other artifacts, the sacred rings, the Ark, and our Great Journey shall begin!" the Prophet's eyes glowed with a determination.
"Ship Master 'Uahamee, do not fail me."
"I shall not and never will, Noble Hierarch." The Sangheili solemnly said.
"Let us hope not." With that, the Prophet's holographic figure vanished, and the Ship Master was left alone in his command quarters.
After a few moments of contemplating a plan for retrieving the Atlas, Anea 'Uahamee quickly walked back to the ship's communication station, to hail his best Special Operative Squad. And then the retrieval of the Atlas shall begin.
November 3, 2552 (Standard Military Calendar)
1908 Hours
Earth/ New Angeles, United States
ETA 2 minutes
Operation Angeles
"Pull us in…there." Bishop told the pilot.
He pointed to an abandoned city park roughly ten kilometers from the original clicks. The trio of pelicans that made up Foxtrot, Talon, and Lima squads made their way to an open, scorched field.
"Once we touch down," he ordered into the comm, "Check your gear. Then form the squads. Is that clear?"
16 red acknowledgement lights winked on his HUD. As soon as the acknowledgement lights flashed the pelicans landed. The engines kicked up dust as they slowed for the landing. Blades of dead grass and clouds of dirt shrouded the soldiers as they unloaded from the pelicans.
"Pile out! Go, go, go!"
The pilot of Victor 667 spoke through the comm to Bishop. "Call for us if you need an evac."
The Captain nodded. "Understood." The pilot replied with a salute. As Bishop turned away, the engines roared to life and the pelicans were gone.
He activated his comm to speak to Gunnery Sergeant Maxwell. "Sergeant do you read me, over"
"We read you loud and clear. What is your current position, over."
"Around eleven clicks from your position. We'll be there as soon as we can, over."
"Roger that. Just get here as soon as you can. There starting to hit us harder, over."
"We'll keep that in mind. Over and out."
Bishop's private comm link opened and could hear the voices of the two other squad leaders. Leader of Talon, Second Lieutenant Hope McNeil was first to speak.
"So…what's the plan?" Her sharp voice questioned.
Bishop gave a sigh then started. "We were supposed to take back a recently captured military base. This was the second place the Covenant hit when they invaded the US. No one knows why. Charlie Company was to take us there by foot. Apparently the Covenant put up a pretty tight air patrol and the area was too dangerous, with the mine fields, to risk a drop." Bishop paused. Where the hell is he. "Smith!"
"Yeah, I'm here. Just checking supplies." Sergeant Major Brantley Smith replied leisurely.
"Damnit, we're on a mission! Stop acting like this is a friggin' walk in the park!" Bishop always got irritated with Brantley's cockiness. Bishop could here a sigh of ignorance over the comm. He was one hell of a shot, but too immature. "This is a direct order, Sergeant."
There was a brief moment of silence. "Sir, I'm kind of worried about this mission." Brantley stated sternly.
"What for?"
But before any of them could speak any more, three Covenant Ghosts came into view in the street next to the park. They sped down the street avoiding chunks of debris from destroyed buildings.
"Contacts!" Brantley said as the Ghosts closed in on their position. "Ghosts. Must be a recon group."
"No shit!" Hope exclaimed as she rolled out of the way of the charging Ghost. She opened up the comm system, and suddenly the system was filled with the leaders barking commands.
"Corporal! Cook the bastard!" Corporal Shane Jones fired a round from his M41 "Jackhammer". The rocket found its target and locked on. The impact flung the Grunt from the cockpit with such force that the corpse literally fell apart in the air. Torso one way, the legs another.
"Here comes the welcome party." Jeremy said, barely audible over the explosions. "Three more Ghosts heading this way!"
The ghosts veered around a row of hedges in the deserted park where a few ODSTs lay hidden, waiting for the right moment for an ambush. The ghosts came past them at an angle exposing the grunt pilots.
The ODSTs bared their fangs and struck head shots at the Grunts with deadly precision, the 9.62 mm rounds of their BR55-A2 battle rifles, tearing right through the oblong skulls of the Grunts. This was how the Fallen Angels fought; ruthlessly aggressive, they take no prisoners. They watched out for each other, willing to take a lethal blow for the good of the team.
"Contacts neutralized." A cold, metallic voice said over the comm system. Spartan 242 had shot at the odd canisters under the left wings of the ghosts watched as the explosion sent a piece of metal at the grunts methane tank, and set it off like a rocket.
"Look!" one of the ODSTs exclaimed, "Fireworks!" Another one chuckled and punched him in the arm at the remark.
The Spartan looked around at the marines. ODSTs were always tough to the core but this division was different. They held no prejudice against her. They were all friendly and accepted her as a normal marine. Just a foot taller and outweighing them by over eight hundred lbs. She felt more comfortable with the Fallen Angels than with any other outfit besides the Spartans. But nothing could replace the feeling of duty and acceptance she had with her brothers and sisters of the Spartan II program.
"Status report, Freeman!" Bishop coughed out. The smoke from the wrecked vehicles made his eyes watery.
"We got two KIA. Pity." Freeman replied solemnly.
The squads stood still in silence to honor their fallen comrades. Corporal Nicholas Young of Talon Squad gave a short prayer. "Amen."
Spartan 242 walked toward the Captain. "Captain, I suggest we get settled in for the night. The New Angeles UNSC Marine Base will most likely have enough fire power for Charlie Company to last the night. Besides, we need your marines in top condition if we're gonna stand a chance against the Covenant." They each looked at the battle weary soldiers. 242 was right.
The Lieutenant keyed on the comm system and sent a message to Charlie Company.
"Charlie Company, this is Captain Jacob Bishop. Squad Leader of Foxtrot Squad of the Fallen Angels. We are bunking out in a building about ten clicks from you locale. Is this alright?"
Bishop waited half-a-minute for a response. "Affirmative Lieutenant. My boys can last the night. The Covies bugged out at the last minute. Said something about a demon coming or something. Hell I don't know."
"Affirmative Sergeant. We'll leave at 0200 hours. I hope you can last that long."
"Alright. We'll see you soon, hopefully."
The Fallen Angels found a small town house. The front door was bashed open and there were alien foot prints in the dirt of toppled planters. Thankfully there were no bodies in sight. Supposedly all the civilians were evacuated post the New Mombassa invasion and sent to the underground bunker complex the UNSC had just recently completed. Work began on it after the destruction of Harvest in 2535, the construction was 86% completed after the fall of Reach in 2552.
There were splinters and shards of ceramic from the planters. The Covenant must've thoroughly searched this place. Sofas and chairs were toppled over. Curtains were torn from the windows sills. Tables and stool were jumbled on the kitchen floor. No square inch of the town house was left unchecked.
"Mc Neil, Smith." He addressed the other squad leaders, "post your best sniper and spotter on the roof. Spartan 242 will be taking command of them for guard duty." He looked over to the Spartan who nodded and hefted a S2-AM sniper rifle. She turned and walked toward the other two squads. "Darwin, Elric, Daniels." he continued to issue orders. "You three will be guarding the entrance. Remember, don't fire unless you know they've spotted you." The three privates nodded to their commanding officer. "Freeman, Barrett." he looked towards his best soldiers. "Alert me when things go haywire." With that he turned around to face the rest of the squad. "The rest of you!" The other ODSTs snapped to attention. "Get some rest. Your gonna need it. Move out!"
"Sir, yes sir!" Kayla followed Jacob for a short while before speaking. "And you, sir?"
"I'm gonna get some rest. Good work out there, Kayla. I can see you going places. Wake me up in an hour." He picked up a fallen stool and fell into a deep sleep. But unbeknownst to him, this would be Bishop's last restful sleep for the next few days.
Fallen Angels: Operation Angeles-Chapter 3-Departure
Date: 21 April 2006, 4:26 am
Ninth Age of Reclamation
Covenant CCS-Class Battle Cruiser Pious Inquisitor
Sol-III
Docking Bay
Anea 'Uahamee took great strides as he walked toward Special Operatives Commander Anka 'Basoree. The Spec Op Commander was at least a full head taller the Ship Master so approaching him was always a bit intimidating, even for Anea. But the Commander was always humble towards his fellow Sangheili and even some of the lesser races; a rare trait for any of the Covenant.
The Commander observed as his Special Operative warriors loaded supplies onboard the Apparition and Phantom dropships. Several Unggoy struggled to load a Shade stationary turret onboard a Apparition.
"How many do we have Commander 'Basoree?" , the Ship Master inquired.
"Forty-seven Spec Op Sangheili, eighty-nine Spec Op Unggoy, five squads of Kig-Yar, ten pairs of Lekgolo, twenty ghosts, ten Shade stationary turrets, six Wraith mortar tanks, and over three tons of weapons, gear, and ammunitions," the Commander said matter-of-factly, "Does this please you, your Excellency?"
How could it not? "Indeed it does Commander. This is more than enough to destroy the human stronghold. Excellent work!"
"Thank you, your Excellency. My warriors will be ready in one cycle."
"Good, I shall return in that amount of time. Then there is something I must tell them."
"Yes, your Excellency. I shall be awaiting your return." The Commander bowed low enough that his face could almost touch the plating of the Docking Bay floor. With that Anea 'Uahamee left the Commander to continue his work, and the Gold clad Sangheili walked back to his Command quarters to come up with a plan for the retrieval of the Atlas.
As the Ship Master stared at his holographic topographical layout of New Angeles, lost in thought, he didn't notice that behind him stood one of the better tacticians within the Council that occupied the Pious Inquisitor, Liira 'Taradee. The Council member had been in contact with the Ship Master many times in their services as warriors within the Covenant, but not only as soldiers but also as mates. They had no offspring though neither complained (it was a time of war after all), Anea was starting to regret this decision.
"Ship Master, do you require assistance?" She said sweetly.
Anea's skin color fade to from the dark blue of calm to the dark purple of embarrassment. "Indeed, I do. What did you have in mind, Liira? We cannot risk a plasma bombardment and simply destroy the structure, for we might damage the Holy Atlas."
"Then don't. Why not simply use the drop pods to secure a landing zone for your other forces?"
"But it seems that the Humans have set an explosive field around the structure, mines, they call them. If a pod goes astray, it could cause a chain reaction throughout the explosive field perhaps damaging the Atlas below."
The Councilor adjusted her headdress, as to indicate that she had a solution, " Then do not miss." She gave a Sangheili smile, giving the Ship Master a new found confidence. "I'll leave you now, may the Gods be with you."
"And you as well, my love."
Anea looked at the holo-clock above the holographic map of new Angeles. It has almost been a cycle. I have my plan. Anea thought. Now to put it to use.
He took the nearest elevator to the Inquisitor's Docking bay, to debrief the warriors under Anka 'Basoree's command. He walked past a crowd of Huragok repairing a damaged Banshee, who seemed to be content on staying out of the Ship Master's way.
"Commander 'Basoree, are your warriors ready?"
"Indeed they are, your Excellency."
"Good." Anea stared at the legions of Spec Op Sangheili and Unggoy, ten pairs of Lekgolo and the squads of Kig-Yar, and the number of vehicles and supplies. To see such number assembled in such a little amount of time, in such organized fashion, was a bit unnerving for the Ship Master. He has never personally seen such a large mass of warriors since his years as a Special Operative Commander, that was over thirty years ago.
"Warriors of the Covenant," he addressed, "we have seen our Lords' creations before. Some of you may have even taken part in recovering some of these artifacts. Today, we have this chance, once again, to prove ourselves worthy of reuniting with our Lords in the Devine Beyond. Today, we will retrieve an artifact that could to reveal to us the location of the Ark, the Homeworld, and even the Sacred Rings." The roars and cheers of the some two hundred warriors hurt the Ship Master's ears, but knew that this was a positive thing.
"We will retrieve the holy Atlas, and with it begin our Great Journey. I will not lie, the Humans have proven their selves as formidable foes as they are allies with the demons. They will try and stop us, but we shall prevail! We must not fail! Worry not of failing, for I leave you in the very capable hands of Commander Anka 'Basoree. You must all remember that today, we fight not just for ourselves, not just for our own personal glory. No. Today, we fight for our Gods!"
A ground shaking roar was the response to the Ship Master's speech. "You will leave in one tenth of a cycle. But first, I need thirteen brave warriors to volunteer for a pod drop into the human encampment." Eight Spec Op Sangheili and five white armored Unggoy stepped forward. "Excellent. Now, make haste for the pods. The rest of you prepare for departure…and may the Gods be with you. All of you. Dismissed."
May the gods be with us all.
October 29, 2552 (Standard Military Calendar)
0156 Hours
Mt Everest/ Himalayan Mountain Range
Operation Everest
"Man, it's fucking cold." complained Corporal Matthew Guttman of the Fallen Angels. He peered down the Spotter scope trying to make out anything other than snow. "I swear, if I ever meet the guy who assigned us to this damn mountain, I'm gonna kill him"
"Quit your bitchin'. It's not that bad." replied Corporal Jordan Bennings. He activated the night vision feature on his SRS-99C S2 AM rifle, but he couldn't see anything. "C'mon, let's get back to base."
The two ODSTs stood to stretch their limbs.
"Yeah, all right. Let me grab my gear, and we'll go." As Guttman turned to retrieve the Oracle Scope, he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. He quickly turned to his two O' Clock position, his MA5B A2 rifle at the ready.
"What is it?" Bennings took notice of his sudden movement, slung the Sniper Rifle over his shoulder and drew his trusty 12.6mm M6D Magnum Pistol.
"Could've sworn I saw something." He tried to activate his flashlight in that direction, but to no avail. "Shit. Batteries are dead."
"C'mon, let's just get out of here."
"Sure, but switch to thermal on your HUD, just to be safe."
The rest of the way back to Alpha base was spent in a blue thermal vision. But as the two turned a corner on the winding road, they noticed something on their motion detectors. Enemy movement.
Bennings switched to the private communications link. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah. Use a Flashbang?"
"That'll do fine. On my mark."
The two Marines kept walking as both of them primed a flash grenade. As they turned the corner the camouflaged assailant crept quietly around the hill. 3...2...1...Mark! The two dropped the grenades in front of the corner and turned to shield their eyes from the blast. They heard the bang and then a crunch as the body dropped to the snow, blind. Guttman kicked at the near invisible body and it fell hard to the ground again. He fired three rounds into where the head would be. The 7.62 mm rounds bore through the alien's split-face and exited through the back of the Elite's oblong helmet.
"Shit! Bennings you have to get out of here. Get back to Alpha Base and tell the Captain!"
Corporal Bennings was a little stunned, he didn't want to leave his friend to die, but he didn't want the others to be caught off guard by the Spec Op Elites. More Elites came pouring in from the cliff edge where they had been just minutes ago. "Bennings, go now!" Guttman shouted to him.
"Good luck, man." With that, the young Corporal ran as quickly as he could the rest of the way back to Alpha Base. The last thing he heard from Corporal Matthew Guttman was a blood curdling scream as the Elites' Plasma Rifles burnt his flesh.
There was nothing that he could do.
November 13, 2552 (Standard Military calendar)
0248 hours
Earth/ New Angeles, United States
New Angeles Civilian District 561-A
OPeration Angeles
Captain Bishop awoke in a cold sweat. The helmethe had placed on his lap had fallen to the floor. Corporal Kayla Barrett sat beside him. She tried to wake the Captain from his nightmare earlier, but couldn't. "Sir, " she whispered, "The Covenant are on their way to investigate the disappearance of those Ghosts we neutralized earlier. We have to get out of here."
"Understood. Call the Snipers back from the roof. We're moving out."
|
