(Jenkins POV)
"Hell…" I swallowed hard as I watched the Spartan instantly vanish from sight the moment he jumped. Leaving me next to take the fall.
I took a step forward and glanced down into the white, misty abyss. I felt a pit form in my stomach.
Now, before you ask, was I scared? No, I am a Hell Jumper. My job description literally says I get in giant metal coffins and jump out of perfectly safe ships to ruin somebody's day.
I more or less had a problem with gravity, specifically the landing part.
"NEXT," the pilot called out, indicating it was my turn.
I shook my head one last time before taking an additional step or two onto the landing ramp like the Spartan and jumped.
ERRRRR
The wind roared around my helmet instantly as the sense of weightlessness took root. I was glad ODST suits were pressure sealed, that way I didn't have to worry about air.
Quickly I brought my arms out into the correct skydiving form to slow my speed. I glanced to the bottom left of my HUD at the altimeter, finding it rapidly decreasing from the 35,000 feet it initially had catalogued.
I brought my arms in tight to my body to increase my rate of descent. The less time I stayed in the air, the better, in my opinion.
Strangely, I found myself back into the rhythm instilled in me from training, periodically checking my pack and altimeter while managing my breathing. It was all so familiar; in fact, I began to slowly recall the ancient marching song we were forced to sing during PT.
I think it was called Blood on the Risers?
I continued to go through the song until I reached the last verse with the altitude to pull my chute in sight.
'There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the chute,'
'Intestines were a'dangling from his paratrooper suit,'
'He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots,'
'AND HE AIN'T GONNA JUMP NO MORE'
1000 feet my helmet read, and I reached to my shoulder and yanked my parachute chord.
My back immediately jerked, and a shadow came over my head as my speed came down to a crawl. By now the blizzard was filling my vision with snowflakes floating every which way. I couldn't see the ground. 'Not good,' I thought, but without any other choices, all I could do was rely on my altimeter, though it wasn't meant for landing.
I glided slowly, watching the altitude tick down until suddenly-
"Shit shit shit… tooooooo CLOSE!" My voice gained strength until I finally shouted the last word the moment I impacted the snowy ground.
"Umf," my feet instantly went out from under me as I rolled through the snow, knocking the air out of my lungs.
I started to get dragged by the wind catching my parachute, but I was able to stop myself before I went more than a couple feet.
"Another…cough… successful….landing-cough," I said to no one in particular as I lay on my back staring into the murky sky.
"Hoorah," I pumped my fist before sitting up and taking off the chute. I rolled it up and stuffed it haphazardly into the pack before burying it under some snow. Stealth mission and all that.
I stood up, cracking my neck and pulling my BR-55S from my back, and could only pause before turning around to the scenery, or rather lack thereof. 'Right…blizzard. Would make sense that if I couldn't see anything gliding through it, then I probably wouldn't see anything walking through it,'
Visibility was non-existent; I could maybe see a good 20 feet or so in front of me, but that was effectively useless for my battle rifle. So instead I stowed it away back onto my back and opted for the M7S caseless submachine gun that I had as a backup. It was far better for my effective range… and it was easier to carry.
The wind never stopped blowing and completely took up my entire sense of hearing. No birds, no engines, nothing only me, the white snow, and whatever was beyond 20 feet. I pretended that the world didn't exist past 20 feet, which made me feel a lot less worried about being ambushed.
I glanced at the compass at the top of my HUD and saw the waypoint for our rally point ahead of me.
2 mi.
It read, 'Not bad,' I thought before taking a final glance over my shoulder. I began to trudge forward, my feet sinking a half foot with every step. Based on our jump, I doubt I'd be running into anyone before the rally point.
"Hopefully this isn't too bad of a hike."
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"Join the Marines, they said; become an ODST, I said," I muttered as my arms shook, holding the ice picks I had just finished driving into the ice wall I was climbing.
'I gotta be halfway up at least,' I thought, glancing down between my legs at more snowy flurries beneath me.
"MHMF," I groaned as the wind blew once again, forcing me to hold on as tight as possible. The air buffeted and pushed; it tried to unwedge my gear, and it was doing a damn good job.
The moment the breeze stopped, I yanked out my right ice pick before cleaving it into the space above me. I stepped up with my right leg, digging my spike into the wall before repeating the process with my left side.
"Like who the hell builds a secret base up here?" I said, ignoring the fact that it was built here because the terrain made it hard to access.
"AND WHO DECIDED TO DROP US ON THE SIDE WITH THE MOUNTAINS," I shouted as another breeze picked up.
So just as my complaints and bitching never stopped, neither did my climbing. Slowly but surely, I was near the top of the cliff, worn down but not crushed.
'Just a couple more,' I told myself.
Once again I drove my pick into the icy cliff. The metal wedged and bit into the surface. I shifted my weight, ready to do the same with my other side-
Crrk
My stomach dropped as the pick tore through the ice.
"Shit!" The pick slipped out of my hand, falling into the abyss below. I grabbed onto my remaining pick, holding on for dear life.
My forearms burned as I held on for what felt like an eternity, trying to come up with a plan.
Just as I was going to accept my fate, I heard a voice.
"You dropped something."
My head snapped to my right, only to nearly jump and let go of my pick as I saw my missing pick embed itself into the wall beside me.
I looked below to see who threw it but found no one. Confused, I glanced up, and my eyes shot wide.
It was the Spartan.
He was moving like a mountain goat scaling the sheer drop with ease. And that was before I noticed what he was climbing with.
"Holy shit," I unconsciously muttered as I noticed that he was simply grabbing impossible grips with one and two fingers. Even his boots weren't spiked; they were simply pressed against the ice.
He paused before looking down at me, watching him. "If you don't get moving, you'll miss the rally time," and like that he went back to climbing, slowly disappearing into the blowing snow.
I paused there for a moment wondering if I'd imagined the whole thing. Sadly, ODST armor is thermal regulated; otherwise, I'd be freezing my balls off climbing. So hallucinations from frostbite were out of the question.
Soon his second set of words began to set in.
I sighed, "Show off," I grumbled before getting back to climbing.
Another ten minutes of suffering and I finally reached the top.
As I was pulling myself over the edge of the wall, I panted. I dug my elbows into the snow, dragging myself up and over while pushing up with my feet. Once off the cliff, I got up on one knee, gripping my hands and stretching my forearms; they'd taken a beating.
"Are you done, private?" The same voice made me nearly jump out of my skin.
"Woah, Woah, Woah. Don't scare me like that, man," I brought my hand to my heart, feeling it beating. In front of me, the Spartan stood looking down at me while facing another direction with his rifle.
After taking a moment to collect myself, I stood up and made my way over to the Spartan who'd been seemingly standing guard. As I came closer, I noticed that he was holding a snow-covered MA37.
"Thanks for standing guard and the help from earlier," I said.
The Spartan simply nodded. "Let's move," he said as he began moving forward.
'Not much of a talker,' I mentally noted as I followed behind him with my SMG. A quick look at the number beside the waypoint told me we had a third of a mile to go.
We climbed a small ridge and took a few steps when I nearly ran into his hand as he motioned for me to stop. He crouched, and I did the same, looking around, trying to see what he had spotted but came up with more snowflakes.
"What do you see?" I asked, my gun at the ready.
"Patrol," he said as I felt a sharp shove to the ground as we both went voluntarily and involuntarily prone against the snow.
I stayed there for a second before I saw them.
Two jackals carrying energy shields and carbines walking casually perpendicular to our vision, but parallel to our actual position. In other words, they were walking past us and in an arc.
We stayed down, and by some stroke of luck they didn't see a black and yellow ODST with an army green Spartan super soldier. Slowly they moved until they began walking away from us, back turned.
I slowly moved to a crouch, pulling out my SMG and placing the reticle on the back of one of their heads, but I was interrupted again by a hand covering my holographic sight.
I looked up and noticed that the Captain had pulled his knife. I felt uneasy as I noticed that it was abnormally long for a combat knife, just a tad short of being a machete.
He pointed to the knife. I understood what he was implying and stowed my gun to my thigh, pulling out my own knife from my sheath on my chest plate. The Spartan jabbed a thumb to his chest before rocking his index finger in the direction of the Jackal on the left. He repeated the action, jabbing me and pointing to the alien on the right.
I nodded, and we quietly began to creep forward. I stepped as light as I could. The wind was still howling, and I hoped that it was enough to conceal whatever crunches of snow I created.
I was shocked to find that the Spartan made no sound, and not only that- 'That's the same way my pop used to walk when we were hunting turkeys,' the way he didn't bob up and down with each step. The way one foot replaced the other, while he kept his eyes on his target. It was like watching my dad hunt ten years ago.
I shook myself straight and got back to the task at hand. I'd rather not get a mouthful of radiation on my first mission as an ODST.
Then one of the Jackals stopped.
I froze instantly, swallowing back spit as I tried to become invisible.
It brought its bird-like head up as if it was sniffing the air.
I didn't even dare glance to my left; I remained as still as a statue. No, scratch that, I became the first living statue
Slowly it tilted its head and continued walking, catching up with the other Jackal.
I breathed a sigh of relief in my helmet and got back to hunting the pair.
A moment later, we successfully got into range of the Jackals. I could nearly reach out and touch them. I glanced at 003, and he nodded as he almost instantly lunged forward.
He took his knife and swung his arm. With a quick chop, he decapitated the first Jackal cleanly, severing bone and muscle in one swift motion. I, wanting to pull my weight, dove onto the other Jackal as it reacted to the Captain's initial attack. I drove my blade through its jugular the moment I pinned it to the ground. At the same time, I reached up and clenched its beak as it tried to cry out.
It only thrashed around for a moment before dying, and I stood up, getting off it.
I wiped the blood off my knife and re-sheathed it, but couldn't help but look at the severed head of the other Jackal.
"Clear," the Spartan said, pulling his rifle back off his back.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," I said, staring down at the head. Needless to say I got no response.