PFC Fry moved from what had at one point been a waiting area for public transportation to an abandoned office complex whose front had been knocked off by plasma scarring. Bypassing the security desk which had been woefully rendered moot by destruction, Fry took cover behind a desk that sported a couple of holopics of the previous owner's family, a red stapler and a dusty but unscathed coffee mug that boasted it was the 'Property of Big Daddy'.<br/><br/>A flurry of pink shards shattered against the opposite side of the desk.The sound of breaking glass caused the tech to cringe lower.<em>Needler. Why did they have to have a needler?!</em>His communication had given away his position to a pair of oinkers led by a jackal, who upon seeing their comrade's blood annointing the front of his Ghost, had proceeded to lay down a barrage of plasma. And needles.<br/><br/>A communication link scrolled inside his helmet's visor.  >>USMC COMSEC/SIERRA 0161/COMMTEAM/PFC FRY, MATTHEW A/BURST MODE/HIGH ENCRYPTION>><br/><br/><em>Saved!</em>His relief was cut short by a bright blue ball of flame soaring over the desk and attaching itself to the temporary wall behind him.<br/><br/>Diving sideways, Fry launched himself behind the cover of another desk and rolled away as a burst of deadly plasma exploded from where the grenade had adhered itself. The scavenged armor saved his life but the super-heated gas still burned his left leg and caused Fry to unleash a yell of pain that was punctuated by a number of expletives.<br/><br/>"Private Fry, this is Sierra oh one six one, as you might have noticed we're at war soldier, no place is safe for long. Confirm your location and prepare to receive rendezvous coordinates."<br/><br/>"No shit Sierra 0161." Fry said as he fired his battle rifle over the top of the desk, shooting blindly to keep the Covenant at bay. "Location is static. I'm under fire. Will contact when clear. Fry out."<br/><br/>There was a squeal of pain from the enemy soldiers and the PFC couldn't help but feel elated, knowing he'd hit at least one. Moving behind another desk in the row, Fry kept ahead of the grenades that the oinkers were pelting in his direction. He snapped up from behind the desk and drilled the stubby little pig with a shot to his breathing apparatus before ducking more shards from the needler. Moving, never staying in one place, Fry left the office building and furiously limped across the street to half vault, half fall into a derelict fountain outside one of the taller appartment buildings. The water in the fountain was only a couple of inches deep. It soaked through his pants and bathed the plasma burn on his leg, cooling the seared flesh. He drew a bead on the opening which he'd used to leave the office building, scoping in with the carbine's optical sight while he switched from burst to single fire for accuracy.<br/><br/>The jackal loped through the hole in the wall, his head bobbing up and down before he stopped and scanned the street. The tungsten tipped round cut a path through the jackal's skull and burrowed into his brain as purple gore splattered a nearby wall. The Covenant light infantry dropped to the pavement, his bright green shield extinguishing along with the creature's life.<br/><br/><em>This is my rifle, this is my gun. This one's for shooting, this one's for fun.</em>Fry thought smuggly as he keyed his helmet mic.<br/><br/>"Sierra 0161, this is PFC Fry, my location is.."<em>He still hadn't the foggiest where he was.</em>"..here. Standing by for coordinates."