Hey, what happened to all the old guys? I'm a member from back before Halo Wars was even released. Back when we could ACTUALLY HAVE PICTURE SIGS. When the site was updated and you had to rework the accounts, I couldn't get it to work, so I left for a long time. So... I'm back! Not that anyone here recognizes me... Anyway, enjoy my FanFic:

HALO - VANGUARD

I

Greg Harland's eyes bolted open. His face was soaked in a cold sweat, blood pumping hard. Holy sh*t. Harland ripped off the thin blanket and rose from the cot. The rush of adrenaline slowly drained away. He attempted to clear his head, and walked over to the bathroom. He washed away the sweat from his face, and looked into the mirror. He took a deep breath, and tried to relax his heart beat. Goddamn, that was messed up. These dreams were getting more vivid every night. That one was… just too real.

Harland grabbed a small orange vial, and took two pills from it. He looked back into the mirror. Harland grimaced at his aging appearance. His hair was a little grayer than he would have liked, and his skin a little paler than usual. He thought that he might be getting too old for this. Almost forty years in special ops… it’s all he had ever known since he volunteered for the ORION Project. A sudden knocking on the room's door broke his thoughts. Harland strode over and opened it. Ritter stood there in uniform. “Officer's quarters, huh? Bet you slept like a baby.”

“What do you want?” Harland grunted.

“There's been a slight change of plans. Grab your gear.”

-

“What’s going on? I thought we were dropping in with pods…”

Matthew Carson looked around for an answer. His seven squad members, sitting in the UNSC Legionnaire’s armory, remained intent on inspecting their weapons.

“Come on, someone tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We’re just as clueless as you,” muttered Downing, not taking his eyes off of his rifle. “This crap happens a lot, rookie, you’re just gonna have to get used to it.” Carson returned to affixing a suppressor to his gun, only half satisfied with his answer. Captain Harland walked in, carrying two large rucksacks.

“Everyone grab a bag from the hallway and head to the hangar. Take what you can carry. We’ll be taking the Black Cats.” Downing rose and grabbed a bag from Harland. He swung it to his back, and shot an enthusiastic look at the rest of the squad.

“Parachutes.”

-

II

“Hey, cap’n!”

The voice startled Harland. He found himself back in a small troop bay, Murguía smiling at him slyly. “Fallin’ asleep? What‘s the matter, you getting too old for this job?” Ritter chuckled a bit. Harland ignored it. Mason remained silent, head down. “What’s the matter with you?” asked Murguía.

“He’s not too good with heights,” explained Ritter.

“It’s mostly the whole falling part, ***hole,” he snapped back. Harland laughed a bit.

“Right… well, we’ll just have to take it nice and smooth, then.”

“Over the target in five,” radioed the copilot. Harland reflexively checked his rifle. Mason’s visor polarized, covering the anxious look in his eyes with a shield of mystic blue. The others followed suit. A red light illuminated above the rear hatch. The squad stood, making a few last minute checks to their harnesses. Downing’s voice crackled over the radio.

“We’re all set here, sir. See you topside.”

The red light turned green, and the hatch lowered, revealing a surreal, pitch black sky. Harland looked down. Nothing was recognizable below, only the distant line of the horizon, separating black from darker black. Harland looked back to his team. He felt a bit of pride- and a bit of fear, knowing all too well how many just like them were torn from him. He looked back to the sky, and noticed a single faint blue star. Harland squinted behind his helmet’s visor. It seemed to pulsate, getting larger. No… it was getting closer. The radio crackled one last time- “Good luck, Zulu team.”

“Sh*t, everyone jump now!”

Harland lunged forward, giving himself to the dark abyss below.

-

Harland’s body was wrenched back violently as his chute deployed. He strained to look back at the ship above him. It had taken a direct hit to the troop bay, where he had been mere seconds before. The thick wings had twisted forward, and the small ship was almost split in two. Slabs of smoldering metal fell all around, their faint glows disappearing into the black overcast below.

Harland searched the dark skies, praying that his men were alive. It was hopeless to make anything out in the darkness. He couldn’t risk using his communications gear- they’d all be dead if the Covenant found them floating around in the sky. He just hoped his team would keep quiet too, if they were even still alive… if they weren’t, he’d have to rendezvous with Downing’s team. Hopefully they had had better luck than them.

He grabbed a hold of his parachute’s lines, and checked the GPS on his HUD. He turned to carry on with the regular course. He looked down. Ominous lights far below faded through the thick haze. This was no time to grieve. Harland closed his eyes, knowing he’d have to continue the mission, with or without his team.

-

III

Chieftain Gravatus paced the hall outside the prophet’s sanctum, like a predator in wait. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle this. This ‘prophet’ was a lunatic. He remained locked away in his study for weeks without end, leaving Gravatus to stand guard at this worthless facility literally in the middle of nowhere. He had been stationed here for months, and still hadn’t the faintest clue what research could be so d*mn important to these fools. At times he wished that the council would have just imprisoned him, left him to die. He deserved at least that.

Just as Gravatus was about to lose his patience, the gate opened with a hiss, revealing a dark inner chamber. A weary body hovered forward, with wrinkled gray bags under its flaring green eyes. The creature wore a silver tunic, with three bleached skulls of the Unclean hanging from its long neck. What a freak.

Gravatus took a deep breath, attempting to pacify his anger. “Noble prophet-”

“Silence.” The thing uttered in a hoarse tone. “You have interrupted my studies yet again. Please… tell me what could be more important than the fulfillment of such a gallant calling?” The chieftain pondered in silence how easy it would be to snap the thing’s neck. “You disappoint me, Gravatus. You have no reverence for neither myself nor my work here. I suppose I should have expected nothing less from a traitor such as yourself.” The prophet struck a soft spot, and he knew it.

“I defied orders from a fool. Orders that would sacrifice my pack all for nothing.” He gave no attempt to conceal his anger. That decision is what got him stuck here in the first place. This was no mission, it was punishment.

“And who are you to dispute the judgment of your commander?” Gravatus said nothing. He had no reason to prove himself. What did this prophet know of war?

“If you have no answer, please relieve me of your presence. I must continue my analysis.” The Prophet of Serenity drifted back into the darkness of his chambers, as Gravatus seethed in silence before heading back to his post.

-

Harland braced his legs, preparing to hit the ground. Wind from a gathering storm battered the forest canopy, and was dragging his chute far too fast. He was sure as hell not going to let himself hit a tree. Harland dug his heels into the thick mud, with the chute still pulling him forward. He raised his legs and propped himself up against a trunk, struggling for his combat knife. With a quick swipe, he cut the lines, and fell to the ground with a grunt.

He stood up, and put the blade back in its sheath. Ouch. He smeared the mud off of his SOPMOD MA5K carbine, and checked his position. The wind had swept him about 3 klicks off the target. He’d regroup with his team there… he just prayed they were alive. Ritter, Mason, Murguía, any of them. There was no way he could do this alone.

He looked out in the direction he was supposed to head. It was barely possible to make anything out in the dim void between the trees. Perfect. He pulled back his rifle’s charging handle, and let it slap forward. This was it. Alone in hostile territory in the dead of night, without his greatest advantage- stealth.

-

IV

Gahmik waddled down through the long corridor to the big tower were the boss stayed. He had a bad feeling that he wouldn‘t take the news very well. They’d shot down the small ship, but they were sure that there were more to come. He arrived in front of the menacing door. He hesitated for a second, then pushed a few buttons on the control panel with his stubby grey fingers.

After a few seconds an irritable-looking Jiralhanae appeared on the screen. Gahmik shivered as he remembered he was the one who had flung Dahad into supply crates for dropping that fuel rod case. A gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. “What do you want?” He must have been sleeping.

Gahmik tried his best to keep his voice from squeaking. “Uh… I, uh… I have some important news for the Chieftain.” The callous face just glared, unimpressed. “There was a, uh, a human ship that we shot down… but we think there might be more coming… and we want our orders from the Chieftain.” The screen suddenly went black. Gahmik stood waiting, unsure of what to do, until the hiss of the door startled him. He reluctantly went in.

-

“Chieftain.” Gravatus turned to face his guard, with a nervous looking grunt following behind him.

“What is it, captain?”

“This Unggoy reports that we have shot down a human ship. It is likely there are more on the way.” Gravatus felt overjoyed, although he did his best not show it. His prayers for action had been answered. “Shall I alert the prophet?”

“No. He is far too busy to be troubled with this at the moment. Prepare a division of patrols to monitor the forests. We shall not be caught off guard.”

“Right away, chieftain.” The guard strode out and started toward the troop’s quarters. The little grunt looked around, unsure of what to do. He turned back to Gravatus.

“What do you think’s in the forest? There’s nothing out there,” squeaked the grunt.

“Let‘s hope not, for your sake. You will join the patrol as well.” Gahmik’s eyes grew wide. He did not like the forest. Not one bit.

-

V

Distant thunder rolled in the distance, as the sound of harsh wind whipping across the thick foliage began to intensify. Lightning arched across the black sky, illuminating the darkness with an sinister flicker of light. A single raindrop landed on a leaf far above the forest floor, where littered leaves scattered in the breeze.

Lightning struck again, and the outline of a dark figure blazed for an instant, and vanished. Another drop fell, then another. The thing ran on, clad in black armor, dodging low hanging branches and sloshing through thickening mud. The drizzle grew into a downpour, chaotic splashes of water pelting the tangled undergrowth.

It leapt over a small cascade, and splattered into the flooding stream below. The thing’s visor gleamed an ominous blue from the light reflected off the water. It splashed its way to the shore, and lowered.

Harland checked his position on his visor drenched in rainwater. He was about halfway there, and still no sign of his team. He took a deep breath, and tore off back into the trees.

-

Gahmik squealed as the thunder roared in the sky. The brute cast back an annoyed look, holding his head against the rain. Gahmik sighed, shivering, wet and cold. The storm showed no sign of letting up soon, and it was almost impossible to see anything.

He wasn’t sure why he was put on this patrol, anyway. He was only supposed to monitor the other Unggoy and relay their messages to the Chieftain. And why would anything be out here? They had shot down the ship. What could have survived a crash from that height? Gahmik pushed his thoughts aside, thinking he should be thankful that there wasn’t anything that could get him. This was just not the place to be. Away from the base, at night, and in the rain, looking for some kind of monster.

Gahmik realized too late that the brute stopped, and ran into his leg. He skittered back, cursing himself for not paying attention. The beast seemed not to care, and continued to stare forward. Gahmik crept up behind him, and followed the brute’s gaze. Something was whipping around wildly, hanging on a tree branch. Something big. Gahmik froze, petrified in fear.

Suddenly the entity swooped from the branch, thrashing around in the wind, straight towards him. Gahmik let out a piercing scream as the thing struck and wrapped around him. He flailed around helplessly as it began to strangle him. The more he fought it, the tighter it bound him. Just as Gahmik had lost all hope, it vanished. The forest reappeared, and he could breathe again.

Gahmik wheeled around, and saw the brute holding the horrible thing, struggling to break from his grip. Gahmik examined the thing, and realized it was no monster. It was some kind of thick, black canvas, flapping around in the strong wind. The brute released it, and it blew off into the dark sky.

Gahmik lowered his head, gasping in methane from his mask. He opened his eyes, and realized he was standing in a trail of footprints in the mud. He looked up, and saw that the tracks led off into the trees. Gahmik felt a sinking feeling fall into his stomach as he realized they weren’t alone in the woods. He turned to alert the brute. He was gone. Gahmik twisted around frantically. He had disappeared. Gahmik swallowed hard. This was not good.

-

VI

Several shades of blood blended with the murky bog, Grunt carcasses sat lifelessly, hideously scarred- a few ripped entirely apart. This definitely was not the work of any human. Harland couldn’t help but think that there was just way too much blood for just a few dead grunts.

Harland heard a rustling noise behind him. He spun around and brought up his rifle. Time froze, his mind went blank. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His finger tensed on the trigger.

An ODST stepped out. He cleared his visor, revealing his face.

Harland lowered his rifle. “Mason. D*mn good to see you alive, corporal.

Mason shouldered his SMG. “You too, captain.”

“Any idea what happened to the other two?”

“Mark… he didn‘t make it out.” Dammit. Ritter was dead. Harland’s right-hand man. “Murguía got out before me. If his chute worked, he should be somewhere out here.” Mason took a look around and noticed the carnage. “Holy sh*t. What the hell did you do?”

“This isn’t our handiwork. Something tore the poor bastards apart.” Mason walked out across the clearing.

“Well, I’d rather not hang around and find out who did. Let’s see if we can find Murguía.”

“No argument here.” Harland followed, trying hard to ignore the thought of what had been here before. Mason turned back.

“And captain…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. I mean… I’m sorry about Ritter. He was a good man.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” They stood in thought for a moment, and continued on in silence. Harland took a breath. At least he wasn’t alone anymore. Just one ODST was a pain in the ass for any enemy. Together they were all but unstoppable. Now they just had to find Murguía, before something else does.

-

“You did what?” The prophet’s face twisted into a hideous expression of rage.

“I ordered a search of the forest for-”

“The forest! Nothing is allowed to enter the forest! Why was I not consulted before your decision? I shall have you executed for this heresy!” Gravatus had never seen the prophet so furious. He loved it.

“Unfortunately for you, my noble prophet, we have found evidence of other forces indeed being here. So unless you want to execute your best defense against the humans, I stay alive.” The prophet could barely form a word in his rage. Gravatus was right. He would have to remain alive. For now. The prophet floated over to the large observation window overlooking the forest.

“You do not understand. There is a presence in the forest… a violent presence.” The prophet paused, calming his mind. “It is what I have been sent here to study. Recall all of your troops, now. Before you have none left. The forest shall take care of the humans itself.”

-