Halo:Bravo, and Encore/Unforgotten

October 26, 2552: 1532 hours GMT: New Mombasa, Kenya
New Mombasa looked like hell on earth. Artillery-formed craters and burned-out vehicles covered the ground out into the horizon. The cry of a Marine caught Logan's ear. He was shouting for his mother, but increasingly more quietly. Within a minute, Logan could hear him no more.
The Spartan ran and leapt across the fissure created by a split bridge. Reaching the other side, he scanned the area to see if any Covenant were near. He saw none, and hopefully his camouflage kept them from seeing him. He sent two quick bursts of static in the team's COM. On his motion sensor, four green dots moved up to his position. Turning, he saw three blurs which only the trained eye could detect, and one Spartan-II standing tall in his armor- Justin-057. The Spartan had been assigned to Bravo upon their arrival on Earth, and so far he'd lived up to the S-II reputation of quick, efficient killing. Logan had decided he wouldn't mind having this guy around.
"I'm picking up faint transmissions from Marines in the area," Justin said. "Seems like they're pinned down by some Covenant armor. A Scorpion column is moving in to assist, but it'll be another ten minutes before they can get through all this." He waved a hand to indicate the burning and destroyed cityscape.
Logan nodded. "Alright, we'll move up to assist. Justin, I suggest you draw their fire while you three," he said, pointing to the other Spartan-IIIs, "pull around and flank the Covenant position. I'll hang back and take out the Elites."
Billy looked at Logan, who could tell that the other Spartan was smiling under his helmet. "I seem to recall this plan," he said. "Luckily, I'm not the one drawing fire this time."
Logan made a quick Spartan smile with thumb and forefinger. "It worked last time, didn't it?"
Justin coughed, attempting to get Logan's attention. "Logan, don't get too hasty when you're fighting the Covenant. Just follow my lead and we'll get this done." He looked at all of them and whispered, "I don't want my cousins to die." I can't lose anyone else, he thought, his thoughts drifting back to Emmalyn-002 and Jasper-113, Emmalyn dying from augments and Jasper falling in the Battle of Romulon. The team was quiet for a moment.
Viggo broke the silence with a long yawn. "If we're all done with social hour, there's some aliens that need killing." He raised his M90 shotgun and began to run down towards the engagement with long, loping strides. The others followed behind. Logan began to scan the area for a sight of the enemy. "Anytone have eyes-on?" he asked.
"Got 'em," replied Elijah. "Three or four elites, plus Grunts, all near the entrance of that building to the north."
Logan looked north and scanned the buildings. He caught sight of a flash of red and unfolded the bipod on his sniper rifle. Sighting in, he found his target- an alien wearing the red armor of a major, making him the group's lieutenant. Another Elite, wearing the more common blue armor, stood next to him. Making sure he could switch targets quickly enough, Logan drew in a breath, sighted, and fired twice. Purple blood exploded from the aliens' heads. The other Covenant soldiers quickly hit the ground, not knowing that they were dead anyways. The sounds of shotguns and rifles mixed with the howl of wounded Covenant. The killing was over in less than two minutes.
Logan stood and began to move down towards the rest of the team. Spotting movement, he stopped short. One of the elites, the major he had shot, was trying to crawl away from the scene. Half of its head was gone- Logan had no idea how it had survived. Drawing his sidearm, he walked over to it and rolled the struggling alien onto its back. It looked up at him, drawing short, ragged breaths. Looking it right in the eye, Logan raised his magnum and fired.
Reholstering the weapon, Logan jogged over to the rest of Bravo. "How are the Marines?" he asked.
"There's only seven out of their original fifteen left," Billy replied from where he was kneeling on the ground, tending to the wounds of one soldier. "The highest-ranking is a sergeant major. It seems like the Covies we just took out were part of that armored unit we heard about earlier. They dismounted from the vehicles to mop up these guys." He stood, slinging his MA5C over his shoulder. "I say we grab whatever heavy weapons we can from these guys, call for a casevac, then move on up and take out the Covie armor, or at least keep them engaged until the Scorpions wander along to finish them off." He looked to the rest of the team. "Sound good?"
The other Spartans looked at one another and nodded. "Alright people, load up," Logan said. "Billy, get a casevac Pelican here ASAP. We're taking the fight to the Covenant."
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October 26, 2552: 1542 hours GMT, London, United Kingdom
Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire. Reload. The cycle never seemed to end as Riker-012 emptied magazine after magazine from his SRS99C into the approaching Covenant forces. Alongside him, UNSC Marines and Army personnel lay down a blanket of suppressing fire onto the attackers. Riker had been fighting the Covenant for over twelve hours straight now, both in orbit and groundside, in every situation thinkable.
The magazine in his rifle clicked empty and Riker searched for another. "Does anyone have more sniper ammo?" he shouted over the gunfire. None of the nearby soldiers had any to offer. Grabbing his BR55, Riker moved forwards to get a better view of the Covenant invaders, and began firing into the crowds.
Although he didn't want to admit it, Riker knew London was lost: it was hopeless. He'd traveled the globe during this battle, and he had seen how ruthless the Covenant were. Wellington, Easter Island, Lima, Mexico City, Austin, New York, Reykjavik, and now here, London. Everywhere, it was the same: even if the UNSC won, they lost all the same.
"Scarab!", Riker yelled as he spotted the blast of its' beam burning the street ahead. "Fall back!"
Riker scrambled away from his cover, firing at numerous Covenant units as he ran. The COM chatter was a sheer wall of sound. While the Marines remained cool and collected, some of the militiamen were wildly screaming without regard to callsigns or radio protocol. Someone was screaming about a group of Wraiths bombing their position, but Riker couldn't make out where they were. Growling, he stood and waved to the soldiers nearby. "Fall back to the next strongpoint!" he shouted over the din. Marines and militia alike stood and ran. Riker noted one squad of Marines leapfrogging their retreat and nodded in approval.
Hopefully we have something at the next fallback to surprise them with, Riker thought. Armored units had been trying to move into the city for hours, but with little success. Riker had heard of plans for evacuating civilians off the island via the Channel Tunnel. With luck, the Covenant hadn't found that yet. If they had, the evacuation would turn into a massacre.