Rival

“Three in cover, by the Bison, one’s about to move.”
“I see ‘em...and sent.”
A DMR cracked in the night, distinct among the panicked screams of the Gilgameshian forces. The convoy had fallen right into their ambush, and Hotel-II had struck with ruthless efficiency. Even without MJOLNIR or SPI, the Headhunters were plenty capable. 
In an instant a soldier who had dared peek out from behind the gutted APC dropped. His head jerked back violently as a spray of blood and gray matter wet the dirt of the path. More screams, cries of vengeance, and of fear.
“Another one, coming out the other side.”
The DMR cracked, and another corpse crumpled. This was the fourth ambush they’d pulled off like this. The hills surrounding the roads had made the attacks easy enough, and in spite of their efforts to increase security and comb through the areas surrounding the routes, nothing could stop Hotel.
Callum was nestled in some brush on one side of the road, Jamison was set up on the other. He’d dealt with setting the charges, Jamison picked off those who survived. It was an effective system, one they’d nearly perfected.
In the time since they’d been deployed on the rebel world, B042 had began to let go of his reservations about the younger Spartan. It wasn’t fair for him to treat the Gamma like a child, or with indifference because of the past. He was as much a Spartan as Callum, and he’d suffered too. Just because he had an almost irritating charisma to him didn’t mean he was naive as much as B042 had thought otherwise.
“Only one left. You’d think they’d have done more for security besides an extra gunship this time. Not like we have any issues with those. Then again, that might be asking a little much of innies.” Jamison remarked, somewhere in the forests around them a trio of Falcon gunships were burning.
The ‘Spartan Laser’ had been quite effective, and Callum had been too fast for any of the opposition to take advantage of the giant red beam broadcasting his location.
“Maybe they should’a stuck to farming and bitching about taxes.” In addition to being talkative, G144 had a way of regurgitating UNSC talking points. That was an area he was naive in, he still saw the conflict with the secessionist movements in black and white, just like Mendez taught them.
Callum knew it was more complex, he just didn’t care.
“Last one’s panicking, still trying to work the radio. I’ll finish it.” Callum began to rise from his prone position, they needed to move before the sky was filled with new Gilgameshi gunships. Something opened up from his right.
He saw it in the corner of his eyes, a distortion that only the enhanced vision granted by their augmentations could’ve seen in such low light. That millisecond heads up made all the difference. Callum jumped back, ducking behind a tree as a hail of gunfire came down on him.
One round caught his chest piece, and he could already feel the massive bruise forming beneath it. It hadn’t gone all the way through, but a few millimeters more and a 5.56 round would’ve been deep in his ribcage.
“What the fuck?!” 
Callum didn’t answer, instead he sprayed the M7 in his hand in the general direction of the gunfire, weaving through the trees as fire was poured onto him. Jamison’s DMR barked angrily as he fired at whatever the attacker was.
With one hand he fired, in the other he went for an EMP. AvCam was in play, he needed to take it out. The fire stopped, and Callum acted. He primed the grenade, then he heard the thud of armored boots thundering towards him. Callum dove out from behind the tree just as the figure smashed through it.
The trunk splintered, and instantly the rest came tumbling down. Flinging the EMP grenade into the air, Callum rolled to avoid being crushed by the falling log, and shot back onto his feet. Just in time to see an armored figure lunging forward.
B042 lurched out of the way, firing off a quick kick. One that shouldn’t have been able to just be effortlessly blocked. Pain shot through his shin as the attacker brought up an arm and halted the strike. PISCES might have given someone the strength to take a blow like that, but it should’ve given at least a little.
The figure was clad in an almost familiar armor, like SPI but different. He could use that. It came at him hard. Callum weaved through a barrage of steel, firing off a series of jabs hoping the familiar aesthetic wasn’t all the armor and SPI had in common. Fists hammered into the attacker but it didn’t slow.
Blows that should’ve killed men did nothing. Nothing.
“Fuck, coming!” Jamison’s voice cut in as Callum twisted out of the way of a stab, eyes darting to Jamison’s position as the Spartan rose out of his nest, then back to the attacker. A hard fist slammed into his ribs, hammering the air out of his lungs.
Callum gasped for oxygen and a knife bit into his shoulder, then slashed across his abdomen. Pain quickly turned to rage, and B042 let out a roar. His fist fired into the domed helmet on impulse. The strike dazed the figure for all of a second, and completely broke Callum’s hand. In the distance neither heard the crack of a DMR.
It kicked like lightning, in a flash titanium alloy met his cheek and threw him onto his back. He could taste the blood, he could feel his jawbone cutting into his mouth, but he didn’t stop. The figure reached for his sidearm to finish it, only for Callum to ram into him, tackling him into the autumn leaves that littered the forest floor.
The Spartan roared, blood and teeth falling onto the man’s visor. It slammed it’s knife upward, plunging it into his stomach once, twice, three times, then hammered Callum with another blow to the head. 
His vision was blurring, blood was pouring down his face, but he didn’t stop. The hand that wasn’t broken had produced a blade. Two strikes went into the attacker’s stomach, then Callum shoved the dagger into the man’s wrist, the blade punching clean through and burying itself in the dirt. B042 had pinned his knife hand.
An armored gauntlet shot up and snaked it’s fingers around Callum’s throat, then hurled the Spartan off of the man. The Spartan was furious, his mind thought of nothing but blood, he shot back up and hammered his knee into the attacker’s faceplate. The kneepad crumpled, but so too did the faceplate crack. 
Ripping it’s hand free the man growled and launched itself at Callum.
Blow after blow the two struck out at each other. He knew he should’ve been down, Callum knew the wounds weren’t simple scrapes. These were going to be serious. But he had to keep going. He was not going to die on this backwater excuse for a planet.
Unfortunately his opponent shared the same resolve.
An uppercut sent him stumbling, and in the instant it took to regain his focus Callum found himself looking down the barrel of an M6G. Fuck.
Two gunshots through the silence of the interlude, one ripped into Callum’s armor, and the the other sent the attacker’s faceplate exploded outward. Bone and blood sprayed violently outward and onto the forest floor. Explosive round. Dropping to one knee Callum gasped for air as Jamison stepped over the corpse.
“Rayne is gonna be pissed.” Murmured the Gamma as he rushed to Callum’s side, slinging an arm over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” He managed, scooping up his blade from the dirt as Jamison helped him to his feet. Callum’s eyes were set on the corpse. It had almost beaten him. He should’ve been concerned about any number of things, but more than anything else he felt thankful it had come for him rather than his partner. 
Jamison was right though, Rayne was not going to be happy. But that hadn’t stopped anyone yet.
Category:The Weekly