An Elite's Tale

Behind the Chieftain and his cronies, the gargantuan blocky structure in the center of the room creaked and clanked as it transformed and split into three platforms stacked vertically and separated by about forty feet of space between each.

The Chieftain tossed the small Human aside and picked up his Gravity Hammer, which stood even taller than he did. Blue lights attached to the morphing center structure flicked on one at a time from the bottom to the top. The doomsday device was loading its first stage of the charging process. The towering metal pillars on the top platform groaned like whales as they shifted and locked in place.

Once the churning machinery stilled, a brilliant blue ray of energy containing a concentrated stream at its core shafted through the aligned holes in the centers of each platform, out the open ceiling, poisoning the clear blue sky.

The Arbiter snapped out his energy sword and the Plague opened fire, Wildcat following suit. Madiba held back. The human commander that Tartarus tossed aside managed to grip the edges of the platform, and he didn't want to blast her off with his HEAP explosives.

But that didn't limit the Brute Shot's effectiveness as a weapon. He just had to get a little closer.

The Brute Captains all formed a defensive huddle in front of Tartarus, shielding him from the spikes and plasma with their shaggy bodies. One of the Captains went down almost instantly and Tartarus turned and jumped off the ledge onto the intermediate platform. The Arbiter raised his sword and charged in. If he's going in, I am too. Madiba rushed forth holding the bayonet at the hip, aiming to impale.

The Arbiter got there first. Madeira saw him dance to the side to dodge an enemy HEAP grenade, then parry the shooter's subsequent bayonet swing. Major 'Garaisee looked to his own enemy and his eyes widened when he saw what the Captain was holding. A powerful, short range Human-manufactured weapon called a Shotgun. Thinking quickly, Madiba held his Brute Shot flat in front of him like a shield. When he got close, the Brute let off a shell of buckshot that ricocheted loudly off the tungsten blade like the ring of a cash register opening.

Some must have bounced back and hit the Captain, because instead of firing again it shrieked and grimaced in pain. Madiba raised the giant curved blade up high and brought it down on the Brute like a battle ax, ending him in a single strike. He pivoted left to finish off the last Brute but halted when it took a red hot spike through the head and collapsed. Madiba glanced back at the Plague.

Greedy bastard.

"Wort! Wort! Wort!" the Arbiter shouted, holding an energy sword in the air. He leapt off the ledge onto the platform where Tartarus was waiting, taunting them with an exaggerated yawn.

Ludo and Madiba jumped down after him while Wildcat stayed behind with the Monitor to help her commanding officers. Ludo floated across to the platforms and landed near the Chieftain, raining spikes the whole way. Madiba didn't have any such helpful equipment and had to do it the old fashioned way. He latched the Brute Shot to his magnetic back holster, got a running start, and jumped. In the air, he kicked his legs like he was running and completed two long strides before touching down on the middle platform.

Wasting no time, he climbed over one of the many wall obstructions littering the area. He could see the Arbiter and the Shipmaster's Plague duking it out with the Chieftain. Madiba brought his Type-25 Grenade Launcher to bear and shouted to his teammates, "Get back, get back!"

They saw him aiming the Brute Shot and dove away from the Chieftain. Apparently confused, Tartarus turned his head and saw Madiba standing there.

Six grenades. I can do this.

The red Major's Launcher hawked and spat four HEAP grenades that exploded against the Brute one after the other and sent ripples through a dense energy shield protecting him. Madiba's eyes widened. Tartarus didn't even flinch. He calmly looked down at his torso where he was hit, then back up to Madiba.

"Is that how you cowardly Elites fight?" Tartarus asked him with a step forward.

A shot from a Beam Rifle suddenly cracked the purple forcefield and Johnson pumped his fist and yelled something at Tartarus with a cupped hand. Madiba could see reinforcements arriving behind the Sergeant Major; Xepo with a Beam Rifle of his own, and another miniature Demon, this one in full armor. Where the ODST had come from was a mystery, but Madiba couldn't afford to find out it's origin. He was grateful nonetheless.

Madiba launched another grenade at the flickering shields but still they held. Again, Johnson sniped from the ledge and this time busted the shields completely. Madiba saw the opportunity and moved in. He ducked underneath the Chieftain's wild backhanded fist as it swung by and ran the grooved, razor sharp edge of his Brute Shot's blade horizontally across the Chieftain's abdomen.

"Rrraaauuuughh!" the Chieftain screamed as he leaned forward with a hand on his gut.

There, finish him off! You can end this right here, right now!

Wasting no time, Madiba lifted the Launcher up, blade tip down, and used all his might to drive it like a tent stake through Tartarus's skull. He was coming down with the weapon when he noticed the Chieftain's posture and realized his mistake. One hand was clutching his stomach, yes, but the other...was gripping the Fist of Rukt.

Tartarus stepped back and Madiba missed and stabbed the Brute Shot into the ground. He looked up just in time for the hammer to greet him squarely in the chest. His feet left the ground.

"Aaaahhhh!"

The wind ripped by and the Throne Room morphed into a blurred swirl. He made contact with the wall and his yells stopped abruptly. Then he was falling, losing consciousness. After that, nothing.