bxttle-cry:
The Spartan paused, sparing the ODST a glance over her shoulder, before an amused, derisive snort rang out over the COM as she turned away again. She almost felt sorry for him, assuming that she and the rest of the Spartans worked for the Office of Naval Intelligence. Yes, she herself had been ONI once, but that was before her assignment to Noble Team, and her subsequent stationing on Reach.
“You think I’m ONI’s, just ’cause that’s where we’re headed?” Her voice was low, and despite how young she might have sounded, there was also a natural huskiness to it. “Yeah, we’re here to deny the Covies getting their hands on ONI’s data. But our handler is under SPECWAR/Group Three, which is under the jurisdiction of Unified Special Warfare Command. Meaning we couldn’t be further from ONI if we tried. Our superior is UNSC Army; we’re Navy.” The way she informed him of who they were was blunt, straight to the point. She’d never believed in beating around the bush; that just wasted time and caused issues.
Six dropped smoothly into a crouch as she finished speaking, lining up the Grunt manning one of the Shade turrets in her crosshairs. The gentlest squeeze of the trigger, and she watched as the diminutive alien collapsed sideways out of its seat. Nearby, in a watch tower, a Jackal wielding a Needle Rifle squawked, trained its sights on the building the Spartan and ODSTs were taking cover in, and opened fire. A shift in the direction of the watch tower, lining up the birdlike alien’s head in the reticle, and another squeeze of the trigger, dropped the enemy sniper.
“We’re just here for a torch-and-burn op. Nothing more, nothing less.”
...Huh. She wasn’t ONI.
Alright then.
Sokol shrugged, by way of acknowledgement. “Torch-and-burn, I can do.” Especially if it was torching and burning an ONI facility. There was something deeply cathartic about watching years of their efforts go up in smoke.
He was on the verge of rebutting that his point about killing her himself still stands when she popped two Covies in less than a second. Probably better not to remind her about the death threat he’d just made when she could shoot like that.
Three more Grunts peeked up over a rock and he sent a few rounds downrange. His Marines followed suit, laying short bursts to keep the aliens’ heads down, just as they’d been trained. Fire and maneuver. “Three more of ‘em, Lieutenant!”
