Dessen

0900 HOURS, June 22nd, 2547 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
Sol System
New Mombasa, Earth

Sergeant Howard Jones strolled through the New Mombasa Police Headquarters' lobby doors. The floor was a white marble, with many pillars lining the circular room. A New Mombasa Police banner draped down each pillar from the floor above along with a flag of each respective district of the city held up on a mount. In the center of the room, the marble changed colors to a black, which in turn changed into a huge replication of the insigina of the city's police.

The ceiling was opened though, but not to the outside but rather other levels of the building that revolved around the circular 'tube' of openess. If one looked up, you could see a skylight big enough to fit an entire MagLev Train through. Howard took a few minutes to bask in the glory of the insignia and all the mightyness that accompanied it, like he did everyday for the past 6 years.

Howard had joined the New Mombasa Police Department at age 24 at an attempt to make something of himself in the city and his family. He had grown up with parents that had barely ever even aknowledged his existence, minus a few key events. It wasn't their fault though. Work had kept them on a very tight schedule. His parents did encourage him to partake in his education, but the only subjects that had interested him where History and Math. He barely passed high school with his other grades being so low, but in the line of work he wanted to be in, you didn't need soaring scores. You needed a cool head, the ability to think on your feet, and the reasoning of justice. And thats just what he figured he had had.

His training went smoothly. He became a familiar shooter with the standard side-arm, the M6G Magnum, which he had little care for. He trained with a few other standard police equipment such as the Genet Police Cruiser and the standard body armor. After four years of service, he requested to train for New Mombasa's Special Weapons And Tactics division. Failing the first time and spending a few extra months as a normal officer, his next attempt proved he was ready. During his second year of service with SWAT, he became interested in the PD-2535 Short Barrel Sniper Rifle, which was the standard marksmen rifle of the NMPD SWAT. It's appearence is like that of the UNSC System 99D, but of smaller build and is stripped of military ammuntion and other 'standard' military features. Regardless of the handicap, Howard felt like it was his calling to be a sniper. A one shot, one kill warrior.

Training with the PD-2535 SB placed him against 20 other members of the police force. Only four would be chosen. After completing his training with the weapon and the course with flying colors, he become top of that four. That was a few months ago. Today, he had been called to the Headquarters along with the majority of the entire police force for a meeting. And he was just in time. He walked past the receptionist, flicked his ID badge at the scanner for a brief moment and the doors unlocked. A few others followed in behind him, all of them regular deputies and they gawked at his site. He sighed. He liked to be part of SWAT, but he didn't like how people thought of him as if he were God himself. He looked the other way and continued into a large room. He noticed a few soldiers at each entrance and exit. Was it something about the UNSC?

The room had a sloped floor that angled it's way toward the stage. The walls had fin-like features that extended out to help project the sound in the room further and fully, as did the speakers. There was a large balconey that sat about halfway over the bottom floor, and had half as many seats. It was already filled up with officers of other districts. From the looks of it, Howard figured they were seperated by district. He looked around for the seating section for SWAT and found it near the front of the room. He shuffled his way through the crowd of sitting people until he found an empty seat and sat down. Minutes went by as everybody else found their seats and the presentation began. A few soldiers were spread out along the stage, providing a security detail. 'Called it', Howard thought. A man stepped out from behind the curtian, his boots polished and his dress uniform neatly pressed. He had an array of medals pinned to the left side of his chest that made him appear important if one just looked at that section of him. He was clearly a caucasian from his skin tone and this made his uniform really stand-out in it's olive drab complexion. The eagle pinned to his military cap showed he was a colonel in the United Nations Space Cammand.

He walked forward, his footsteps filling the room with noise and purpose. He arrived at a podium at mid-stage, took a glance to the left and to the right, and then began.

"Men and woman of the New Mombasa Police Department, I am Colonel Ron Williamson of the United Nations Space Command. I'm guessing you could deduct that much with my men in combat gear and holding fully loaded assault rifles."

The crowd let out a chuckle. Howard found hmself laughing too. The place suddenly felt a lot calmer, as if all tension was gone. 'I guess this guy sure knows how to do it', he thought. Williamson started again. This time he got to the point.

"Now, I want to address the point of the meeting. As you may have heard, the Office of Naval Intelligence had it known to the public that we have a super soldiers on our side. You may be familiar with it's name, the Spartan-II project. I would like to tell you that they are winning every engagement they are in." He smiled a laughing grin as the crowd exploded into applause and whoops.

"Ok, everyone. Settle down. Now I also want to have you know something else." He clicked a button a hand-held device and a projecter came to life. A large still of a planet appeared. It was earth-like, with large oceans and rolling plains that were no doubt littered with settlements and cities.

"This is the inner-colony, Skopje. This was taken five days ago. The next day, the Covenant attacked. The UNSC Chares was the only nearby ship and was ordered to respond. They deployed troops and began salvaging equipment as well. Now, you may be asking yourself, why is he telling us this? Well, it's because of this." He clicked the button again and the still changed to one where the surface was fiery red and glistened like glass. Two Covenant ships could be seen in the photo as well, mantaining an orbit of the planet.

"Skopje was glassed just yesterday. The UNSC Chares was the only human vessel that escaped the area. If you have family there, the Chares may have gotten them off. But because of this, the UNSC is even shorter on man power today than it ever has been and we need volunteers in order to fill our ranks some more. If you want to enlist, there are several stands you can go to that are placed here, behind the curtians." And with that, the rest of the stage was shown and the Colonel walked off.

Howard pondered for a moment life in the UNSC. Mandated food, constant threat that loomed above your head at every second, and the possibility your friend's face becomes mush as he dies in your arms. It would be just like life here, minus the criminals. But the criminals were the main reason Howard wanted to stay here. Justice needed to be brought to the low-lifes. He got out of his seat and started for the exit.

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Williamson had just walked out of the bathroom after freshening up when he noticed a lone police officer walking away. He hadn't anticpated this, even after his mock presentation. Williamson pulled out his PDA and looked through the roster. From the looks of it, he needed this man. He looked to two of his men and ordered them to keep an eye on him. He assured they would recieve back-up later on.

The two soldiers scurried out of the building and left on a warthog. Williamson then left the building and boarded a waiting pelican. It left the ground and began it's flight to it's intended destination. He pulled out his PDA and rechecked the roster of the police force. He scrolled through it, found a few interesting people and the man from earlier, but then closed it. He radioed the two soldiers and ordered them to not engage him but to simply perform reconasiance. He closed the channel. He scratched the top of his head and cracked his neck. He was on his way to another presentation, one where he hoped would yeild similiar, but better results.

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The streets were busy, as usual. The sidewalks were, well, the same. Howard pushed his way through the people, as they did not give a fuck that he was an officer of the law. But that too, was usual. He heard a humming and glanced up for a few seconds to catch a brief glimpse of a military-grade Pelican fly over and then dart futher up into the sky.

He turned the corner and walked a few more minutes before arriving at his apartment building. He used the elevator, like always, and made it quickly to his room on the 37th floor. He locked the door on his way in. The holograph console came to life as his apartment's dumb AI greeted him. His name was Aldern and he chose the avatar of a well-dressed gentlemen.

"Why, hello there, sir! How was today?", it asked in a faint British accent.

Howard walked to his refridgerator and pulled out a beer. It was the last one on the plastic ring holder. After opening his beer and downing a gulp, he replied.

"Well, the UNSC was trying to recruit eager officers today. I refused, of course."

"Indeed, sir. Do you wish the television to be activated?"

Howard let out a sigh, and complied. The T.V. turned on and Howard sat down. The usual news was on, broadcasting the latest news on the war with the aliens. And as usual, the UNSC was losing. That much was obvious, presentation and news aside. They're just too superior to us, he thought. No way we can hold out for too long without some more help. But atleast crime can be combated. That was always a plus in his book, aside from the fact that there would be no crime if everybody was dead. Maybe alien crime, but that was his problem.

He finished his beer, threw the can at the garbage, but missed, and the can slid a few meters away. He turned the T.V. to a movie. The Sun was already going down and cast a glow through the windowed wall to the outside. Howard fell asleep fast. Aldern appeared and looked at his master. After summarizing that Howard was well into REM, he turned the T.V. off, followed by the lights. He remembered to activate the apartment's security system, so if he were to go into his own sleep to recharge, it would work without him. He looked into some of the city's activities and what the UNSC was doing, but the majority of it was blocked from his knowing. He did a virtual sigh, and slowly faded out.

0700 HOURS, June 23rd, 2547 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
Sol System
New Mombasa, Earth

Light flickered in through the paneling, resting on Howard's face. It warmed him for quite some time, until he finally opened his eyes, quickly shielding them from the sunlight. He looked over to the TV, which popped on. UNSC News was on. Howard rolled over toward the upright part of the couch and stayed their for a few seconds until...
He quickly sat up and threw up on the floor beside the couch. Damn hangover, he thought. He coughed from the smell and walked away. Aldern appeared for the first time in the day.

"Sir, I've advised you many times to not drink because of this. I didn't inform you yesterday because I thought you would have taken it a lot better."

Howard looked up for a few moments and gave Aldern the finger. He looked away suddenly, outside to the city. "Just get it cleaned up..."

"Yes, sir." Aldern then disappeared as an auto-mop came to life.

Howard left view briefly as he quickly ran mouth wash though his teeth to remove the disgusting taste and smell. He walked over to the kitchen and ate some pizza from the fridge. He looked at the plastic ring that layed empty inside. He grabbed it and tossed it into the trash. As he closed the fridge, he stretched a bit, trying to ward off his wake-up aching. He walked into his bathroom, expeled his clothing, and climbed into the shower. He thought about who would be gone from the NMPD. The presentation appeared to draw many into wanting to join, he remembered. Roughly, twenty minutes went by. But not all would join; some would have to stay, he reasoned to himself. Fifteen minutes later, he walked out, brisk naked, toward his bedroom. He sifted through his drawers for apperal. He pulled on boxers, some athletic shorts, and a NMPD t-shirt. Socks and tennis shoes followed and he walked to the door.

Aldern appeared. "Going out, sir?"

Howard looked over at him. He noticed his right shoe was untied. He knelt down to tie them while he was still chatting.

"Going out on a beer run. Want me to pick you up anything?" he joked.

Aldern let out a gentlemen's laugh and pulled at his lapels. "No, sir. I already have my essentials. Plus, I don't want to be vomiting everywhere." He smiled.

Howard smiled as the door unlocked and he walked out. "Wise ass...".

As he started down the hall, he swiftly boarded the elevator and rode it down to the lobby. The chime signaled he had arrived and he walked out, across the lobby, to the outside. The streets were a lot less crowded at 7:45 AM, so he decided to jog. It would be good for his health and, well, maybe even shake off some his hangover that was still present in the corners of his mind. A few police cruisers drove past at high speeds, leaving smog in their wake. A few cars pulled over to the side. Crime didn't wait for his return. The convenience store was about five blocks down, so it would take him considerable time to go down, buy his beer, and come back. Howard shrugged it off. The time didn't matter to him. After all, he was off work today.


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Ron Williamson pressed in a combination and the 20th century-styled fortress door slowly slide open. He strolled in, wearing his top-of-the-line military attire, and was all alone. His office was filled of much desirable or high-pressing value items, including an ancient piece of Achean pottery. The pottery peice dated back hundreds of years and was inside a rectangular, glass display case with small show lights. The walls of his room were a black and olive drab accompanied by an old lighting fixture that hindered sight, if anything. That's why on his desk he had a desk lamp. He looked away from some reports that were scattered on his desk. The team he had sent the other day had yet to radio in, and he was growing impatient. He didn't care if they were taking their sweet time watching him and figuring out what to say. He wanted to know where he lived, and if he had family.

He pulled out his PDA and sent a ping to the team. An orange circle in the upper left-hand corner appeared indicating that it had been received by the other device. Now Williamson played the waiting game. He had done this only one other time in his career, but that was back at Fort York. He fumbled with his pen and put some reports away. A chime filled the room. He stopped and looked. The circle was green. They had pinged back. So they do have communication with me, Williamson thought. He reached for his PDA and typed in a text message:

'Beta-1, report. Withdraw to Rally Point Charlie November when finished.'

A small pop-up appeared and stated that it had been sent. He looked at the computer, opened a document with password encryption, and scrolled through it. He needed this man, no matter what. But he needed him in a way he could never imagine getting some one else. He found his profile and opened it. Howard Jones, eh? What a name. He looked more. he was also apperently a New Mombasa Police Department, SWAT Marksmen. Thats interesting and yet could be a plus in the upper-deciding field. He found himself wondering if he was a good shot. He found better news. He had a mother and father. Now he could do what he wanted to do and do it effeciently, but he needed the go ahead. He selected Howard's profile and sent it to his superior.


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Howard selected a local beer that he prefered and walked up to the clerk's counter. He wasn't there, but he could hear yelling from the back room. He found a bell ring and decided to ring it. The yelling didn't stop and no one came out. He placed the money on the counter and promptly walked out. It was 8:17 by now, so more people were outside. It didn't bother Howard, since he worked with people for a living, but he enjoyed his alone time. And this came during his favorite time: Taking the shot.

He was about a building away from his when he glanced down an alley. Two UNSC soldiers were sliding down a ladder from his building. "Strange, why were they there?" He thought. One had a PDA-looking device in his hand and typed furiously. But they also were moving rather quickly and actually bumped into Howard.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" One of them shouted.

"Like wise, asshole." Howard replied.

He patted his shoulder where the soldier's armor had collided with it. Fuck. He walked into the building and boarded the elevator. He pulled a bottle out of the case and pulled the cap off. He took a gulp of it's delicateness. He wiped some foam from his upper lip and that's when he saw it. The door to his apartment was opened. He put down his case and his bottle right outside the door. He put his back to the wall and listened inside. He could hear shuffling around. About one person was inside, he judged. He heard a door close within the apartment. He slipped in and saw no one. He looked at the bedroom door. It was still open. He looked to the bathroom door. It was closed. Odd, someone breaks in and chooses to piss here as well? Well, maybe he or she thinks I'm gone for the day.

"Aldern!" He whispered. No reply came. He probably had gone into sleep while I left and hadn't notice something was wrong.

He moved to the kitchen swiflty and pulled out a large, cutting knife from a collection he had. He than glided to the wall beside the bathroom door. He waited and waited. He ran his plan through his head. The criminal would be taken by surprise, judging from what he was doing and already expected. They would open the door, take a step forward and Howard would get them.

The door knob wobbled for a second and then fully turned. The door opened and the criminal took a step outward and-

BLAM! Howard delievered a swinging punch to the breaking-and-entering criminal. The man fell to the ground, dazed and confused as Howard brought the knife to his neck. This was meant to keep the man from moving, as did the fact he was sitting on the man's core.

"What the fuck....Howard?" The man said.

Howard looked at the man's face for the first time. It was....

"Dessen?!"

0859 HOURS, June 23rd, 2547 (MILITARY CALENDAR)
Sol System
New Mombasa, Earth

"Why in the hell are you here? I thought you were out at Reach and killing aliens or some shit like that?" Howard stated as he handed one the beers to Dessen before sitting down.

There was no hesitation before he spoke. "Well, I'm on leave and thought that I might as well see an old pal of mine." He said with a grin and a slight punch to Howard's shoulder.

Howard rubbed it and took a drink with the other hand. Well, first he breaks in and now he's glad to see me. This is just wonderful. But he is my best friend so all will be forgiven in time, or that's what's said.

"You didn't need to break in, Dessen." Howard said matter-of-factly.

"...And have me waiting by the door for 20 minutes? Thats rude." He smiled and downed his beer.
A slight burb came out of Howard's mouth and he shifted in his seat.

"That's one way to put it, I suppose."

Dessen got up and got himself another beer. He had a olive drab UNSC t-shirt with some cargo pants on and his hair was shorter than he remembered. Well, its those damn regulations. The hair's gotta go some what.

"So what's happening?" Dessen asked to break the silence. Howard rubbed his forhead as he looked to his beer as if it would produce the thought.

"The usual police stuff. We did have a call where I had to use the PD-2535 on some nut case. He was held up in the city bank with some hostages. I took him down before any harm was done." Howard put the can down.

Dessen coughed, pulled out a cigerette, and lit it. "The PD-2535? They still use that?"

"We do still. I rather like it, to be honest."

Dessen snorted and blew the smoke from his mouth. "That's baby stuff," he teased. "We use the 'real man's' rifle. 'Can punch through solid steel and still take out ten guys."

New Mombasa saw the 99 Anti-Matériel as unneeded and potentially too harmful. They stuck with the sniper rifle that had less punch so it didn't end up hitting hostages or bystanders after hitting it's mark. Howard didn't see this as a downfall, but actually a good thing. If people got hurt on the job and it was his fault, literally, he'd die.
"Yea, well." Howard grabbed his beer and downed it. "Speaking of the UNSC, they just had a presentation at the Police Headquarters yesterday. Tried to convince us to fuel the manpower for the war meat grinder."
This got Dessen's attention. He sat up more and put his light out. "So what are you doing about it?"
Howard said exactly what he was going to do. Nothing. Nothing and just keep mserving the police force. Dessen wasn't too happy about that.

"Come on, man. The UNSC isn't that bad," Dessen started. "It isn't as corrupt as that Kinsler of yours. Hell, you could even get into sniper school. I was thinking of doing it myself, as a matter of fact."

He pondered the notion. I probably could get into sniper school if I went, but I would leave the city behind, and it's crime, Howard thought. Not to mention my parents, but they weren't in the city at the moment. They were vacationing out on some colony before it was long gone.

"I could get into it no doubt, Dessen. But I can't go. The job here is satisfying enough to me. I don't need to poke into affairs that aren't my type of business."

Dessen sighed. He knew this was going to be the response from the beginning. But it was worth a shot anyways. Dessen got up and walked to the refridgerator. He got a slice of pizze out and ate it. Howard got up and spoke forgivingly.

"Dessen, you don't need to walk out of here and drown yourself in food because I said no. Here, I'll make it up to you." Howard said as he grabbed his keyes. Dessen stared at Howard for a moment and threw the pizza away.

"It better be a good place we're headed, 'else I'll be forced to kick the shit out of you." He said with a smile. Howard pocketed his wallet and threw his beer away. He was only lightly buzzed. He could drive safely still.

"I know a little joint down the road that makes awesome burgers. It'll be worth the while." The door opened and they walked out. Dessen put on sunglasses as Howard did the same and the two took the elevator and procceed to drive to the burger restuarant.


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Ron walked to the waiting pelican. Approval was a success. The top brass deemed it nesscary for him to be else where; a place where phase one could began. So over the past hour, he had had a few lowly marine grunts move his stuff into the waiting heavy-duty pelican that would take him to a waiting UNSC ship in orbit. As they placed the final box, he boarded the troop bay. One other man boarded; his personal escort. His shoulder chevrons showed he was a Staff Sergeant, UNSCMC. His nametag read, "Zhukov."

"Are you eastern european?" Williamson asked, making conversation as the pelican exited out of the rock opening of Crow's Nest above.

The marine was caught off guard and looked puzzled. "What was that, sir?"

Williamson pulled out a sweet william and offered one to the marine, who accepted it. After lighting both his and Zhukov's, he asked again.

"I asked if you were of eastern european descent, Staff Sergeant." He took and long draft and exhaled, the smoke lingering in his face for a few brief seconds before moving else where.

Zhukov had black hair with blue eyes and a chizeled nose. He had a long scar spaning his entire right cheek, with some hidden behind the jaw brace of his helmet.

"Yes, sir. Of Russian decent, sir." He smoke some more his cigar before finishing it rather quickly. The man was just beginning to smoke or had done so for a very long time. He figured it was probably the latter. Although war does change a person.

They both sat in silence for a while, the pelican's thrusters and occasional chatter from the pilot and his co, the only sound. For a brief minute, everyone floated slightly, signaling they entered space. The pelican's mini gravity generator kicked in. Zhukov offered Ron some water from his canteen, which he took and gulped some down. Doing so though, Ron found himself staring at Zhukov's scar.

"Ranks and formalities aside, Zhukov, where did you get your facial scar? Or are you uncomfortable talking about it?" Williamson though he may have gone a little far in the first meeting with this sergeant. So far, the man was a decent soldier, atleast from a personality view. Phyiscally, he was built slightly better than the average marine. He had probably been with the corps for a long time. The escort looked away and spoke.

"Well, sir, it's actually from Op' Trebuchet. Damn innie got a knife on me." He rubbed his temple as he continued. "I managed to get the fucker off of me and well, you can infer the rest, sir."

"Yes, well, I can, sergeant."

Williamson knew this man was a cold killer. And better yet, he could hold his own. I could use someone... "Staff Sergeant, how would you feel being a bodyguard? You'd be off the frontlines." Williamson offered.

"Sir, I don't think that would be something I would like. I like the frontline. Being with my comrades and my platoon," He replied.

Damn, he would have to offer more. And not just more, but a life-line. "How about I throw in a promotion? Major, maybe? Oh, and make your pay 50 times better?"

Williamson knew he would have to pull some strings to get this man his own company, but it would well worth the effort. And he could use them for phase two as per orders. This was going to turn out to be a good time. The sergeant whistled.

"Well, now that you put it that way," he grinned.

Okay. I hope you correct everything I pointed out to you.

Now then, to the story. I actually found myself liking it. There is a nice steady build-up in the plot, and the scenes are described rather well. Picturing everything that is going on is easy for me. I like the personalities established for the characters. My only complaint, stop writing at 2 AM.

Offensive Bias wrote:Okay. I hope you correct everything I pointed out to you.

Now then, to the story. I actually found myself liking it. There is a nice steady build-up in the plot, and the scenes are described rather well. Picturing everything that is going on is easy for me. I like the personalities established for the characters. My only complaint, stop writing at 2 AM.

Thank you and indeed.

Chapter Three posted.

good story ruski, hope you keep it up