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Ladies Like Armor Plating	By : FlatlinedGamer Category: +G through L > Halo Views: 1561 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any of its characters. I make no money doing this.

Chapter List
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The outpost was quiet in a way I wasn’t used to. Sure there was tons of noise going on at all hours but it was the sounds of equipment and other people. That’s probably the only reason I got any sleep after months of jerking awake at every sound. There’s a huge difference between the everyday shuffle of an outpost and the silence before a Jackal sniper puts a concentrated bolt of plasma through the skull of the guy sleeping shoulder to shoulder with you. I’ll take the mundane shuffle over plasma splash-back any day.
The thought of that particular event had me running my fingertips over the tiny, raised burn marks on my face. To anyone else, they were just oddly placed freckles. For me, they were the pain and panic of a firefight starting in the middle of the night. PFC Lakes had been my improvised Battle Buddy since he’d linked up with the team. The whole team practically slept on top of each other during the colder nights. If the angle had been any different the Jackal would have taken my head off at the same time. I could still remember the feeling of blood, bone fragments, brain, and plasma hitting my face. The feeling of super-heated plasma burning into my skin. I never had another buddy.
Five months later I still woke up looking for that sniper. That same night Private Laura Vasquez used her service pistol to end her terror and inability to see a future where we weren’t constantly looking over our shoulders.
I shoved down the painful memory and crawled off my cot with a sour look. Just because I had the time to dwell on the team’s losses didn’t mean I had the energy. They weren’t the first teammates I’d lost to aliens and they wouldn’t be the last.
I went in search of the improvised mess hall. Marco was arguing with someone over patrols. Apparently, we still weren’t allowed to pull our weight until further notice. Chief’s orders. One, objectively, good night’s sleep wasn’t enough to get us back up to full steam. Just like one full MRE wasn’t enough to make my pants stay on my ass without the help of a belt. All we could do is suck it up like ODSTs and wait for orders to change.
Once I finally found the building- let’s be real, it’s basically a fucking shipping container- I found LC Adams digging through a box of MREs. I don’t think I properly introduced this piece of shit. Aside from Sarge, he’s the only member of our current team that I know. The one person in all of the UNSC that would make me accept a promotion to Lance Corporal. Adams is a decade younger than me, which isn’t the problem. His attitude isn’t even the problem. The problem is that he’s a fucking ONI bootlicker that’s incapable of thinking for himself. Oh, and he’s a fucking snitch.
Adams got his promotions through reporting shit that has nothing to do with him to an ONI Spook he knows. He got my previous CO demoted for throwing a party in the barracks after we all came back in one piece from a drop. Here’s the fucking kicker: Adams isn’t even in the 105^th! I don’t know what division he belongs to but it isn’t mine. Every time someone takes a fall in the ODSTs, Adams gets a promotion. The arduous process of being accepted into the program? Nope. Fucker got a private booted. Promotion to PFC? Someone got court marshaled. Promotion to Lance Corporal? Got my Gunny demoted. Fucker just can’t seem to help himself.
I glared at the top of Adams’ head until he looked up. “LC,” I said as my only acknowledgment.
“Here, Montgomery,” he grunted and tossed me an MRE.
I turned it over to see what it was. Fuck. Menu number 34. Sandwich. “Thanks, LC,” I said, making my tone as flat as possible. “My favorite.”
“Stow the attitude, PFC,” he said sternly. Like it was actually going to make my tone any less hostile. “I’m in charge until Master Chief returns. I won’t hesitate to take disciplinarian action if you don’t shape up. You need to show more respect.”
“Are you-” I was cut off by a marine running up.
“LC, a Banished grunt patrol is incoming,” she gasped. “What do we do, sir?”
The other reason I hate Adams is simple. He’s a fucking coward. He turned and ran into the back of the mess and hid under a box. I sighed to myself. I’m absolutely telling Chief about this when he gets back.
“PFC?” The marine asked, panic starting to color her voice.
“Fuck it,” I barked, throwing my hands up. “Keep the alarms off and pass the word to get ready quickly and quietly. We want them to think we abandoned the outpost. Get someone over to Sarge and have them guard him. Poor dude’s been through enough for now. Come find me with the ODSTs when you’re done.”
“Ma’am,” she saluted and ran off to do what I asked.
“Was that so hard, you bitch?” I asked Adams before hauling ass back to my bunk to prepare for the bullshit to come.
“What the fuck?” I chanted as I geared up. “Just what the fuck?”
“Calm down, Montgomery,” Marco griped. “You don’t want the rest of the outpost to hear you, do you?”
“NO!” I snapped. “I just don’t get how this just fucking fell to me after that bitch decided he wanted to hide. We’re the same fucking rank, Marco. How am I the one that’s in charge?”
“You stuck your foot in your mouth,” he snickered.
“PFC!” Came the yell from the ‘door’. “We’re almost in position. What are your orders, ma’am?”
“Get me in touch with Master Chief,” I sighed. “He needs to be appraised of the situation. Then we hurry up and wait until those fucking grunts get in range.”
“Yes ma’am,” the marine saluted. “Follow me.” She turned and took off.
“I’m going to kill you, Marco,” I mouthed before donning my helmet and running after her.
Moments later I was rattling off the codes I was given before following it with, “Chief, can you hear me?”
“He’s a bit preoccupied,” a female voice answered. “What the problem?”
I’d… heard that voice before. During the attacks. “Cortana?”
“Er...no,” she said in a voice full of discomfort. “I am an AI but I’m not her.”
“Cool,” I sighed. “Tell Chief we’ve got a huge problem at Outpost Tremonius. There’s a small squad of grunts heading our way and our command has collapsed to the point where I’m the unlucky PFC that’s in command.”
There was silence on the other end of the comms before the AI came back. “You’ve been temporarily promoted to Lance Corporal until we return to the outpost. Try to hold your ground until then.”
“ETA,” I asked, hating every word she says.
“One hour,” she says with apprehension in her voice. God, she’s bad at this. “Please try to hold out until then.”
“Understood,” I groaned. I covered my visor with my hands and sighed before pulling myself together. “You heard the lady, let's hold this bitch until Chief returns!”
It would be another fifteen minutes before the grunts came in range but I made everyone hold position. I wanted them just a bit closer before we rocked their shit. They were loud enough that we could hear them yelling about how the outpost was empty and “the human cowards ran”. I silently slid the safety off on my BR55. I watched the lead grunt pass over the imaginary line I’d drawn fifty yards out from my position near the closest building.
“Open fire!” I yelled as I popped up from behind a crate. Thirty-five marines and ODSTs opened fire on the fifteen grunts coming our way. “Get the fuck off my lawn!” The sound of gunfire practically drowned out my words. The was a lot to be desired about the method some of my forces were employing against the grunts. I’d describe it as ‘Spray-N-Pray’.
I let out a huff as I picked my targets. With one squeeze of the trigger, I blew a hole in the methane tank on a grunt. It started flailing as it choked on oxygen. The next grunt took an M634 X-HP-SAP round to the skull. Others dropped as an M739 SAW sounded off down the line.
“Marco!” I yelled, trying to get a report from further down the line as the last cluster of grunts turned to run.
“Polo!” Came the reply as a frag sailed through the air to land dead center of the cluster. It shredded the grunts with a not-at-all impressive explosion.
“What the fuck, Marco?!” I yelled as I dropped my BR to my side. “I wanted a status report, not a frag.”
Marco shrugged and grinned. “Sorry, LC.”
I grumbled under my breath about field promotions and hating morons. Raising my voice so it carried I yelled, “Check the corpses and make sure those fuckers are dead. We don’t want any more nasty surprises. Once that’s done, let's move these nasty fuckers out of our breathing room. Let’s go marines!” After a round of ‘Ma’ams’ everyone got to work putting bullets in skulls. I grabbed the nearest grunt and started dragging its rank ass away from the outpost.
“Ma’am,” a marine asked as he passed me with a grunt of his own, “What do you want us to do with them?”
I dropped my grunt with a thump. “Since we’re so close to damage to the ring we’re going to boot their asses off it. The last thing we need are rotting grunts making us sick and stinking the place up.”
“Yes Ma’am!”
I grabbed my grunt again and drug it until I could shove it off the edge of the ring. I let out a sigh and looked back. With everyone banding together all the grunts were either already off the side or were in-rout. Then all we had to do was hang tight until Chief returned. The patrols were already back to work and my team was heading back to the improvised barracks to act like they hadn’t just been in a very short-lived firefight.
Once everything settled down I took stock of any injuries or deaths we’d sustained. No deaths and the only injury involved someone pinching their finger in the safety on their service pistol. Not bad for my first firefight as CO. I hated it. I hated being in command. I was looking forward to going back to being a permanent PFC that turned down every promotion that came her way. I returned to where our comms unit had been left to report on our success but Adams was already there. Fuck.
“Adams,” I said flatly. “What’s the news?”
“ETA fifteen minutes,” he said cheerily. “He can’t wait to evaluate my combat performance.”
“Oh, good,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You plan to tell him you’re a coward yourself.”
“Watch your fucking mouth, PFC,” Adams snarled. “That’s a problem you need to fix.”
“It’s Lance Corporal,” I said flatly. “Go fuck a grunt, Adams.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit, you turn down every promotion you’re offered.”
“Not this time, bitch tits. I couldn’t leave the outpost without a CO during a fight. Unlike you.” I glared at the bastard, wishing he’d burst into flames.
Adams let out a slightly unhinged laugh. “Fuck you, Montgomery. There’s no fucking way. Master Chief is stupid if he gave you a fucking field promotion.”
“Hm,” I hummed thoughtfully. “You just called our CO stupid. For promoting me.” I pursed my lips and nodded. The sheer amount of rage boiling in my gut was astounding. I’d always defended my Cos when some idiot bad-mouthed them- Sarge included- but this time I felt like I could spit fucking fire.
“See, even you-”
I interrupted whatever insult Adams was about to spew by punching him dead in his fucking mouth. If it weren’t for the knuckle guards on my gloves I probably would have split my skin wide open. Adams staggered before dropping on his ass. I crouched down to his level before imparting some wisdom on him. “Talk about Chief like that in my presence again and I’ll rip your spine out through your asshole.” I smiled, stood up, and walked off to ditch my gear before Chief arrived.
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