The Hunted (Wreck)

**Location:**
Crash site of the *Arrow Flight*

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Hey, trooper! Get up!"

Jet woke with a massive headache. As he opened his eyes, he could see the green outline of the Spartan standing over him. He tried to sit up, but was overwhelmed by the unexpected pain throughout his body. He tried again, this time successfully.

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Jet, right?"

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Huh?"

Jet looked around, and saw millions of jagged orange lines. He realized that he still had his VISR on, and shut it off. It was broad daylight—the light blinded Jet momentarily—and the jagged lines he saw were of the *Arrow Flight*, or at least the mangled remains of it.

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Your name. It's Jet, right?"

Jet looked back to the Spartan, who didn't look injured at all. Jet unpolarized his visor, thinking that it would be best if the Spartan could see the man behind the ODST suit. The Spartan didn't bother to do anything similar.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Yeah, Lance Corporal Jet Thompson."

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Well, *Lance Corporal Jet Thompson*, you okay? Able to move?"

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "What are you? A doctor? Of course I'm—"

Jet cursed in pain as he tried to get up. His leg wasn't broken, but it sure hurt like hell. He stood up despite his nerves telling him not to, and reached for his gun on his back.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "I'll... I'll be fine. Just need to walk it off."

He looked down to check his ammo counter, and immediately noticed that the screen was black, with a large scratch across it. *Guess it got damaged in the crash.* Luckily, it appeared as if the rest of the gun was still in working order, with only a few minor scratches here and there. He pulled out his pistol to check it, and it appeared undamaged. *Not a single scratch.*

Then he noticed that he was missing something *much* more important.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "My belt! It must've come off in the crash!"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "What? Afraid your pants will fall down?"

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Very funny. It was my *explosives* belt. Frags, flashbangs, breaching charges, foaming explosives—all gone."

**[ Harald-077 ]** "*Real smart* keeping everything in one place."

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Ease of access. Can you help me find it?"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Your belt could literally be anywhere in this scrap yard. Probably not in one piece either."

Jet let out a sigh, which made his chest hurt. He made sure not to show it though.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Well, I at least have both guns, my knife, and..."

He paused as he opened one of his chest pouches, pulling out Hope's tags.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "These."

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Tags? Really?"

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Hey! They're special, okay?"

Jet put the tags away and loaded one of his few remaining magazines into his rifle.

**[ Harald-077 ]** "We have to move; those Covenant most definitely saw the ship go down, and I sure don't want to be waiting around when they show up."

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Why would the elites come here?"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Well, let's see. We never scuttled the ship...the NAV data was never erased...a good portion of the crew might have escaped...they saw where we crashed and...actually that's about it. Oh, I forgot to mention Alfred."

*Where did I here that name before? Alfred...*

Then it hit him.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Fuck, the AI isn't accounted for?"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Yeah."

The nature of the Spartan's response, short with no added details, caught Jet by surprise. He wasn't used to working alongside someone who got to the point as quick as possible. He polarized his visor to hide his expression. He couldn't tell if the Spartan noticed or not.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "One other thing: How did we survive the crash?"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "You don't remember? Think about it."

Jet thought back to the reactor room. He remembered seeing the Spartan tackle him to the ground, and shielding him from shrapnel. His presence also restricted Jet's movement, turning what could have been a crazy, literally backbreaking ride into no different than a standard drop. And obviously an ODST could survive a drop; it's what they trained for. What they're *known* for.

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "Guess I owe you one, Spartan. If we make it out of here alive, I'll be sure to buy you a drink."

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Yeah—no thanks."

**[ LCPL. Thompson ]** "You sure? 'Cause Crest has some pretty good—"

**[ Harald-077 ]** "Thompson! Shut up and get moving. *They're here.*"

Jet quieted down as the Spartan so *kindly* suggested. Over the crackle of fire he could most certainly make out the sound of Spirit thrusters, although the rising smoke prevented him from figuring out where it was coming from.

Harald indicated to Jet to move towards a nearby treeline (or what *was* a treeline), while he provided overwatch. Jet nodded in response and ran—more like limped quickly—through the smoke. When he reached the burnt trees, he took a quick glance back towards Harald, only to find out that the Spartan was gone.

Jet was alone.