(OOC: Hope you guys don't mind if I join! I don't have all that much experience with Halo but I've played a few times and read up on it a little. I haven't been approved but I was under the impression I could join up. Just let me know if that's okay!)<br/><br/><br/><br/><em>Proximity alert. Proximity alert.</em>The helmet had been set to sound an alarm if a hostile got too close; no other noise could get in. Groggily, a hand disabled the alarm. It was nigh impossible to get some shut-eye in this damned city. Yawning, the Spartan rose, blinking away the sleep. The Spartan had previously been awake for 76 hours, and according to the time on the display, had slept for a good 5. Looking at the proximity sensor again, the Spartan saw multiple hostiles closing in. Whether they were aware of a UNSC presence in this location or were just lucky was uncertain. However, they wouldn't be allowed to leave here alive. Slowly, the Spartan got in position, up against the wall next to the doorway, waiting silently.<br/><br/>Three grunts walked in, followed by an elite. More were outside, standing guard. They hadn't noticed the Spartan's black armor in the darkness, unbroken black with only a single white spade on the back. Now was the time to strike.<br/><br/>With swift violence of action, the seasoned predator sprung, going first for the elite. It took all of three seconds to climb onto its back, forcing its head up and stabbing it through the throat. As its knees buckled, the grunts began to turn around. The Spartan threw the bloody knife at the first, catching it in the gas mask and distracting it for a moment while the Spartan kicked one grunt straight across the room and crushed the second into the ground, killing it instantly. The third grunt tried to scramble for the door, unable to think clearly enough to use its comms to alert the guards outside. With four Covenant hostiles neutralized, the Spartan picked up the missile knife and reached to for a holstered weapon while walking to the door.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Inside the room, an Elite energy blade ignited. The two recon Elites looked at each other, then looked inside. The Spartan's instincts went for the one on the left first. Screaming as he died, the Elite's opaque helmet betrayed none of the pain the dying creature felt. Ripping the sword out, the Spartan turned just as the second Elite drew its weapon. Batting the Elite's arm to the side, the Spartan kicked the Elite up against the wall and went in for the kill, the sword penetrating all the way through and into the wall.<br/><br/>The adrenaline rush began to fade. The Spartan took hold of the communicator synchronized directly to the Admiral, and spoke into it. "Black Actual, this is Petty Officer 3rd Class, SPARTAN-095: Lola, designation White One, awaiting next tasking order."<br/><br/>"White One, this is Black Actual. A lot has happened while you were getting your beauty sleep, soldier. We sent forces to infiltrate the Covenant cruiser and destroy it. They failed to do so - the cruiser warped out before they even hit the ground. Regroup with any other Spartan, ODST, or marine units in your vicinity. We need time to continue analyze your last intel drop. Any activity in your area? Over."<br/><br/>"Black Actual, White One. Yes sir, three Sangheili scouts and three Unggoy. I don't know how they discovered my position, sir. Possible coincidence, over."<br/><br/>"Roger that, White One. Stay near this area - there may be a target of opportunity here. I'll update you with any further information. Black Actual out."<br/><br/>095 had been crouched in the corner of the room she'd slept in as she spoke to the Admiral. What was so special about this place that Elites and Grunts would want to be here? She flicked open her UGPS, getting updated on any available information. Last known positions, et cetera. She couldn't decide if she wanted to meet up with Spartans or other soldiers. Spartans weren't exactly the most social, as a whole. In the end she would likely not have much choice. She would go where needed. She removed her Commando helmet, revealing her close-cropped blonde hair, fair features and gray eyes, and walked over to her supply pack and picked out a bottle of water. She washed her face and drank some, then stowed it. She looked at the helmet on the ground, its matte-black visor not reflecting any of the light streaming in through the holes in the ceiling. It had seemed like days since she'd taken it off - in fact, it<em>had</em>been days, and the helmet had made red impressions on her face from where the pads rested - they'd likely take hours to go away. But not with the helmet still on, which it would have to be. She walked over and picked it back up, sliding it over her attractive face and locking it in place.<br/><br/>095 stood up and went over to pick up her DMR. Reloading it with the smoothness and precision that only came from the confidence and experience gained through years and years of war, she trekked off, sticking to the shadows and getting from cover to cover as quickly as she could. She wanted to get in contact with any surviving UNSC troops in the area, but she wouldn't risk communication over general UNSC comms - they had a reputation of being leaky and easy for the Covenant to decode. This was an active war zone: caution was still the word of the day, and that meant radio silence until she could establish direct comm links.