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McKnight, Alexander S. “Black”
Staff Sergeant / Echo-Four-November / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1346 Hours
GEOTAG: Sol De Martina, Reach

”Guppy Four-Three this is Spotlight, change heading to Three-Nine-Seven-Two and proceed east.”

Corporal Menlo began to fidget at his instruments as he responded “Copy Spotlight, proceeding walkthrough of East Bravo Lima.”

The Falcon hummed over the treeline, causing tremors to the forest below with its thrust. Indigenous creatures became sturred by the mechanical flying monster as it flew by, the sun bearing down on them like a searchlight.

“So, was it me? Or was that entire trip pointless?” Asked Sergeant Beckham from his seat. “I mean, we could of sent ANY other team out to fix a motion sensor. Why did it need to be US? THE Echo-Four-November?”

McKnight threw piece of dirt off his boot at Beckham, who shielded his face in response. “Because, Sergeant, we are the best. And they wanted it done. So we don’t argue.”

Private Mendelson continued to eat out his rations packet and laugh as the 2 marines bickered.

“I mean seriously, a rabbit tripped the sensor and knocked it out of place. It happens! They should get some sort of technical team… That’s NOT us, and have them do it!”

“Because Beck…” Mendelson began to say while chewing, “If we don’t do it, some moron’s about to mess everything up and somehow in some god-forsaken loophole, lead the Covies here! I’m enjoying our vacation.”

Alex laughed and gestured a thumb over at Mendelson. “He’s right Beck.”

Beckham scoffed and crossed his arms. “Let em come! I’ll take down their fleet with my almighty gas!”

“Oh god Beck, of course you bring up that…” Alex laughed.

”Echo-Four-November, this is Spotlight, check in, Over?” A woman’s voice ran over the COM.

The crowd in the Falcon protested for a moment as McKnight waved them to be quiet. “Echo-Four-November, Chalk Six-Four Check in. How’s it goin beautiful?”

”Things are Green here Black. But we need you guys to do another check on a sensor in your area…”

Beckham threw his hands at the wind in protest. “What the ********…?!” he murmured under his breath.

Alex mouthed “Stow it.” To him and focused again on his COM. “Copy that Spotlight. Gimme the sector.” He said, and gestured to Mendelson for the TACPAD in his pack. Mendelson obliged and handed him the pad.

”Sector Bravo-Lima-Seven. Something is off about this though. Check it out.”

Alex scrolled to the section highlighted in red and red over the data it had received. His face formed a puzzled look.

“Spotlight,” He began, “Are these readings right? 30 Ticks in 20 minutes?”

”That’s your job to check. Or well, that’s Beckham’s job to check.”

Beckham rolled his eyes, and Alex cracked a smile. “Roger that Spotlight, Six-Four en route. Six-Four out.”

Mendelson turned towards the cockpit. “Hey Menlo, you hear all that?”

Menlo laughed and adjusted a few switches. “You bet I did. Guppy Four-Three heading to target. ETA, five Mikes…”

Ketsky, Anthony.
Corporal / Echo-Four-November / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1351 Hours
GEOTAG: Sol De Martina, Reach

A trooper straddled a bench in the weight room quietly tightening the already stained bandages that wrapped around his hands and wrists. Sparring was never the cleanest training option, but it got the blood pumping, and that was exactly what Anthony needed. There were a few small cuts on his face already from his first bout, but nothing that would hinder him if needed. The first guy was just a punk, straight from training, hardly knew what he was up against. But Ketsky quickly put him in his place. Cheeky little ********. But he could really care less. Long as he wasn't in his Chalk. But he'd have to check to make sure later.

"Ketsky, that's enough," Gonzales strode in, and nearly gave Ketsky a heart attack.
"Sarge? What's up?" He asked after taking a moment to breathe.
"We've got a bit of a situation. There's a sensor that's grabbed our attention. Might be something. Might not be. Just be ready."
"Oh c'mon, what could it possibly be?" Ketsky rolled his eyes, frowned, and begun to take his bandages off.

"This isn't funny, Ketsky. Just get your a** up, patch yourself up and be ready. I have a bad feeling about all this." Gonzales growled at him, then made his way out of the weight room.

Ketsky rolled his eyes once again and tore off the last bit of his bandages with his teeth. "Gimmie a break, it's nothing. It's always been nothing. Chill out for like ten seconds, Sarge." He mumbled to himself and headed towards the showers. Only a handful of men inside, which he was grateful for. Despite how long he'd been in the service, Ketsky still couldn't help but feel awkward.

Exiting a short while later with just a towel around his waist, one of the overzealous rookies from his Chalk playfully tried to pull it off him, but Ketsky shoved the younger man back before he even got close.
"Ryant, what the ******** are you doing?" He growled

Private Bradley Ryant yelped and his eyes grew wide. "I just thought it'd be funny. Sorry sir, it won't happen again."
"You're damned right it won't. Now get the hell out of here."

Returning to his quarters, Ketsky dressed, settled down in his cot and removed a book from under his lumpy, shitty pillow. It was in shambles, the little book. The covers were nonexistent, pages fell out often, and were frayed along the edges. But he kept it anyway to keep his mind at ease. A calm mind kept a soldier alive.

The book had nothing to do with wars, or action in any way. He was embarrassed by it, but it was actually a somewhat sappy romance novel. It brought him back to the family he once had, his wife and children, now one with their planet. It'd been read hundreds of times since he'd shelled out only a few dollars for the ancient little thing before his deployment.

Flipping a page, Private Miller popped up next to Ketsky's cot, startling him enough to make him scream and fall off.
"God damn it! What is with you two!" Ketsky threw his boot at the other younger man, and inhaled sharply.
"Leave me the ******** alone! Get out of here!"

Miller didn't even manage to get a word in edgewise before Ketsky threw him out of their own quarters.

Riggs, Bryan P. "Reaper"
Corporal / Unassigned / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1439 Hours
GEOTAG: Bravo Tarmack / Sol De Martina, Reach


A sigh escaped the lips from a newly recruited demolitions team member while aboard an airborne Pelican. Today was his first day of active duty and already he felt as if he was under pressure from the sights of consistent motion of bodies on the ground, walking around, talking for a few seconds then going back on the move and everyone not really staying still.

The only people he could see that were actually making an effort to stay still were those of workers who seemed to be filing in and sorting through weaponry and armor.

"How the ******** do they even move suits like that.. these things have to be heavy as hell" Bryan said through a communication device through his helmet. Apparently catching a laugh from not only the pilot but the co-pilot as well.

"Yeah.. he's definitely a rookie" the pilot told his co-pilot with a small lean in.
"Your telling me. Guy can't shut up worth a damn" replied the Co-Pilot and as they both tried to look back at Bryan for a quick glance, Bryan's helmet was already facing their direction and a glove hand shot out, aiming a middle finger to the both of them.

Bryan returned fire and waiting for the pilots to return their concentration on the sky in front of them, Bryan gave two more middle finger gestures while simultaneously holding onto his rifle just for the hell of it.

Minutes passed and small chatter came between the pilots, obviously Bryan now couldn't hear because they must have switched frequency on him or something but otherwise he was soon to be touching the ground and once he was within a good small amount of feet from the ground, Bryan hopped off the Pelican and rushed himself forward, avoiding a quickened take off from the pilots just to spite him.

Bryan yet again commented through his helmet and taking a look at his gear, he looked about ready to go. Taking a gander at the info sheet he was given earlier, his current objective was to find a Lieutenant Callahan and await troop placement. As if he was going to be placed anywhere good.

Looking around the hanger a bit and trying to find someone with the markings of a Lieutenant in the form of striping of the armor, Bryan was unsuccessful so far, but seeing a few passing ODST's, he figured he would furthermore his rookie state and ask them instead.

"Sir.. Sir. I need assistance locating a Lieutenant Callahan. First day on the job. Unsure of any of the facilities around here or who is who" Bryan asked, managing to stop the ODST but at the same time receiving an annoyed sigh soon after.

"Oh joy.. a newbie. See that guy over there talking to the few marines? That's him. Wait for him to notice you. Don't try to barge in like a dumbass. And tell him your name and rank" The ODST replied and now walking away, Bryan was left with the only option he had at this point, like usual, following orders.

Walking in the direct path he was told to walk and a few feet away from the group but waiting for himself to be acknowledged, Bryan kept his arms to his sides, his feet together and his head looking into the horizon to look as professional and not a rookie as possible.

Riggs, Bryan P. "Reaper"
Corporal / Unassigned / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1439 Hours
GEOTAG: Bravo Tarmack / Sol De Martina, Reach


Waiting patiently and at the same time, secretly listening in to the two men's conversation, Bryan overheard the comment regarding how one of the guy's men broke his leg and that could have been where Bryan would be placed.

But honestly, he didn't want to get placed anywhere he didn't know about. Better to know your surroundings and territory front and back then go in blind and end up captured, or worse, killed.

As soon as he was given a greeting and a salute, Bryan snapped his hand quickly to his helmet and saluted in respect back, not lowering his hand until given orders to.

"Sir, Corporal Bryan Riggs of the Demolitions Team reporting for duty and proper Unit Placement" Bryan would reply quickly to the man and keeping about a straight posture, Bryan didn't dare to move a muscle and only wanted to prove his worth with his words and later his actions on the battlefield.

Riggs, Bryan P. "Reaper"
Corporal / Unassigned / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1439 Hours
GEOTAG: Bravo Tarmack / Sol De Martina, Reach


Letting his arm fall to his side after the salutes were made, Bryan kept his body in the same straightened formation as it was, except that now he allowed his head motion to look at both Lieutenant Callahan and his friend to the side.

"Sounds like a plan to me sir" Bryan replied to Callahan, referring to the fact that Bryan should get into action already, Bryan himself not liking this idea personally due to lack of where he was going and lack of the home base for certain, but his answer displayed positive to show his dedication to the cause. Whatever it was.

Watching as Callahan saluted the two and walked off, Bryan quickly saluted back in respect then directed his attention to the guy who would become his leader, or next honorable title. Pretty much the guy who was going to make Bryan his b***h.

"Yes sir. And as far as being in the s**t before, if you count scouting through rough terrain and ending up stepping in a pile of animal s**t, which im pretty sure your not referring to, then no. I was taught basic combat techniques and how to use my demolition skills to my advantage. Have yet to take my skills on the road, or the battlefield for that matter" Bryan responded and now walking beside the man, he wondered how his comments would float. He was obviously a joker. But if this was a serious question, then he'd feel like an a*****e.

McKnight, Alexander S. “Black”
Staff Sergeant / Echo-Four-November / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1445 Hours
GEOTAG: Bravo Tarmac / Sol De Martina, Reach

Alex sighed and let out a small grin. "I like you kid." he said with a slight chuckle. "This s**t is the easy part... "

He popped the top off of a crate and grabbed a satchel from it. "This is a Satchel Charge," He began and tossed it to Riggs, "That's gonna come in handy. Here, take this too." He said as he handed Riggs a Shotgun with a few shells. "I'm gonna put you to work."

Behind him the sudden familiar noise of thrusters and the gust of wind overtook his conversation as 2 Falcons placed themselves a few yards behind them. Mendelson, and Beckham ran up from them and joined with McKnight and Riggs.

"Whats up boss? We hear you love flyin." Beckham said jokingly.

Alex laughed and fist-bumped his friend. "Oh you know it." Came Alex's sarcastic reply.

Beckham looked at Riggs for a second. "Who's the Demo-head?" He asked.

"This is Riggs, he's taking Smith's place for a bit. Riggs, this is Mendelson and Beckham, we call em Beck or ********. Depending on the day."

"Only you call me that after I screw your mom, Black" Beckham said in a joking attitude.

"Hey, I think thats Gonzoles comin up..." Mendelson said, pointing to the few ODST heading over to where they were standing. Turns out, it was.

"Six-Three Reporting. What's the situation?" Gonzoles asked in his "Stick up the a**" manner.

Alex shook his head and scoffed. Might as well ******** around with em a little.

"Um, You forgot the "Sir" Sergeant." Alex said. Sneering.

He could tell that pissed him off. Gonzoles' brow started to ruffle and his face got red in anger.

"Anyways," Alex started, "Since everyone is here, geared up and ready to go. We're on assignment. EVAC-ing a HVT (High Valued Target) from the city. Mode details in the air, now get in your birds. Six-Three in one, Six-Four in another. Lets go! 'Oorah!"

The mass of Marines rushed passed him to climb aboard the Falcons like school children on a playground. Looks like it was time to go to work...

McKnight, Alexander S. “Black”
Staff Sergeant / Echo-Four-November / Charlie Company, 105th ODST
July 24th, 2552 / 1449 Hours
GEOTAG: Bravo Tarmac / Guppy Four-Three / Sol De Martina, Reach

With a huge grunt, Alex lifted himself into the Falcon, seating himself on the back bench. He set his C7-SMG SOCOM on his lap and helped Beckham into the Falcon.

"Mendelson, you and Beck grab door gunner." Alex said.

Beckham nodded to Alex, and climbed into the Aft gunner's seat, clicking it to life. Mendelson copied.

Suddenly, Alex had the thought they were missing someone... Hansson. Their medic. He let out a sudden sigh of disbelief and hit his COM.

"Has ANYONE seen the Doc?" He asked, annoyed.

"No sir Staff Sergeant, I thought he was out here." Gonzoles' voice came through the COM.

"Damnit." he scoffed under his breath.

"Riggs, hop in. We'll circle for em." Alex called to Riggs, who was standing outside the Falcon.

Hans was frustrated.

Then again, frustration was a part of life. It was only normal for a young, fresh field medic straight out of ROTC to be frustrated at the shortages and disappointments of reality.
For years, he had studied how to run a base infirmary and how it should be stocked and cleaned, and now everything he had learned had to be thrown out the window as supplies ran short and quick fixes had to be made.

Then again, it wasn't like Cpl. Larsson was a stranger to quick fixes... A field medic had to be knowledgeable, yes, but also clever and resourceful. One had to be ready for almost any situation, to set bones with rocks and tie splints with shreds of uniform, one had to be ready to be called upon at any moment of the day.

And so Larsson had been dragged, completely against his will, as the a nurse from Charlie Company's support staff had burst into the ready room and drafted the young corporal for the second time in his life.
"Sir, one of the marines on base had an accident and the higher medical staff is otherwise occupied. Would you be so kind as to help? We only need you to give your diagnosis so we can proceed with treatment..."

Any other time, and the decision to help would have been easy to make in her favor... but he was supposed to be at the heli-pads in 10, and he had only recently begun to get more acquainted with the guys. But hell, they would understand - this nurse was smiling and she was hella cute.

So Larsson had followed her through the base's halls, the all-too short walk spent thanking the gods for his darkened visor and the designers of the UNSCDF nurse's outfit. Back home, if he were ever lucky enough to survive the war and finish his Medical Degree thanks to the Losantiville military program, he might just be surrounded by attractive nurses like the one walking in front of him. Until then, the mesmerizing vision before him would encourage him to stay alive and bless his luck every day.

Ah, Hans the lucky man.

Until about fifteen seconds ago.

The patient had broken his leg falling into a ravine. A simple injury with a slow but simple fix. Signing off on the diagnosis, Hans walked back to the service elevator and was about to head up to the heli-pads at the last possible second when a group of marines peeled the elevator doors open (really the second they were closing) and crammed themselves into the small box with him. The sight of a dozen sweaty and smelly marines quickly dispelled the good mood the nurse had given him, and their respectful but slightly ignorant chatter was annoying as they pored over the differences between their rigs and the ODST BDU (Hans's slightly more specialized suit). Not to mention, since he was in the back of the elevator cabin, his egress was now slowed by the time it took all the noisy, curious marines to leave...

Hans's annoyance, however strong, couldn't be mistaken for dislike - he respected and appreciated the work and role of the marines and army infantry in any engagement... It was only the time he had to spend making sure they recovered afterwards that instilled him with scorn for their methods. The Corporal often asked himself if it would really cost that much to train the entirety of the UNSCDF in an ODST-like manner, since each ODST seemed more aware of their surroundings and generally required less medical care afterwards. Even ODST's deaths were cleaner - either they burned to a crisp during drops, or rigged themselves to blow to ensure maximum damage as hostiles found their corpse.

It was this rationalizing thought pattern that had earned Hans his nickname in ROTC - "Hannibal". Everything had pros and cons, every action and situation variables that could be tweaked to ensure an optimal outcome. Human lives were simply one of those variables, and if a non mission-essential individual was wounded in a way that would impede the squad's progress, Cpl. Larsson wasn't the man you looked to for salvation. The most Hans would do in that situation is make sure you were conscious enough when your time came to ensure maximum damage.

Then again, this was all on paper. Now Hans was in the field. He was on a base, with other living beings, and it was much harder to rationalize lives as he had in ROTC than it was when you began to know the people around you. They were no longer "tactical assets" or "combat resources", they had names and stories and families back home. Some didn't, with their homeworlds glassed and history reduced to sand and dust, but it's often those who had nothing left to lose who seemed more aware of their situation.

To be perfectly honest, Hans wouldn't even be an ODST if not for the fact that he believed humanity as a whole to be on the defensive. Before being drafted, he already knew the propaganda surrounding the Spartans to be morale-boosting fluff. The UNSC was losing a war, planet by planet, and it was focusing on the victories of a handful of expensive and highly-trained supersoldiers in order to make it seem like all hope was not lost. Becoming an ODST seemed to be the best choice for Hans to not end up disposable cannon fodder - like those poor marines he had shared an elevator ride with - while still bringing a direct impact to the fate of humanity's survival.

His musings were cut short as he finally got to the airfield. The sound of Falcon's engines spinning up was unmistakeable, and Hans knew he was going to get a dressing down for this. Hopefully the story with the nurse would make the guys laugh it off, let it slide... He began sprinting for the Falcon prepped to lift.

Please don't leave, please don't leave, please don't lea-