An Elite's Tale

Wildcat and I were on the main deck with an Elite we'd taken to calling One, as in "Red One". The other two Elites got designations Two and Three. Their names were just too damn weird and confusing to keep track of, and they didn't seem to dislike their new call signs as far as I could tell. Two and Three were being a couple of gangsters and riding on the top deck, which was nothing more than an open platform and no cover whatsoever. But I did catch a glimpse of the gear they were packing; a brute shot and a fuel rod gun. They were planning on being the Scarab's anti-air defenses. I made a mental note to not let any boarders get to them.

We had passed the wrecked Wraith and were now entering a narrow straight. The deck tilted, lifted, and lowered with each step the Scarab took. Tall cliffs were on both sides of us and went on for about a klick. Things seemed to be clear. Then, out of the blue, inconspicuous enemy plasma turrets that were placed at the intermittent ledges the cliffs rained plasma down on all of our forces.

he Banshees scattered while the Phantom descended and opened its bay doors so the Hunters from earlier could hop out and combat the Brute controlled Spectres on the ground. We were momentarily vulnerable without the Phantom hovering over us like an armored roof. Enemy Banshees zoomed in from over the cliff tops and engaged ours, but we couldn't focus on any of it, couldn't help out. In order to fire the Scarab's main beam, the Scarab would have to remain stationary, putting ourselves at further risk and allowing that idiot Tartarus more time to try and activate the ring. Not an option.

It was all on Keyes until we got there, and I knew her, she was tough. But tough as she was, it was only a matter of time; everybody cracks sooner or later, whether they'd like to admit it or not. As the Brutes and Elites dogfought overhead, I noticed more Banshees were coming in from the north. I brought my Bloodhand to bear and took aim at the first one, though I doubted that the plasma wouldn't dissipate before it got to them. This was a task for man-made firearms.

The world suddenly became as bright as the surface of the sun accompanied by a clamor of shouts and weapons discharging and bombs going off. I retreated to the gap between the columns to try and get away what had to be an enemy flare. A moment after I arrived, something blue and fuzzy landed on one of the control panels directly adjacent to head. I looked at it and groaned. It hissed and fizzed excitedly in return. Not ready to be poofed into a cloud of black and blue mist, I dove away from the grenade to the one place I didn't want to be: the ramp that led to the lower deck.

I rolled like a ragdoll down the slope and smacked back first into the energy shield wall blocking entry to the control room. My body was taking a beating today. Not that every day was a walk in the park, but this time was different. I felt like I had been trying to stop freight trains by standing on the tracks. I picked myself up and looked up at the top of the ramp.

I could hear Wildcat out on the deck screaming, "One is down! One is down!"

Before I could form my next thought, a large, dark figure filled the threshold at the top of the ramp and bellowed a war cry.

Uh-oh.