A harsh crash against the base walls, the sounds of heavy and brutal mortar fire falling against the shielding that just barely had enough power to hold it back for one final time. The remaining Resistance Forces, an amalgamation of allies and enemies, at least those who remained, rushed out to greet the enemy and it’s unstoppable forces. Kromus rushed out first, becoming voluntary body shields, the mere one hundred though already being torn through with ease as the kinetic ammunition tore through their carapaces. But they continued on, running forth as their allies moved behind, trying desperately to make it to their cover and mounted turrets, still disregarding the decreasing numbers. From the side of the base, a turret slid out from an opening mechanism, four rotary cannons spun with aggressive speed, firing explosive high energy kinetic rounds into the towering legions of Spartan VI’s that pushed forward. From the other, a second turret followed, firing and spinning it’s rotary cannons with quickness only heard in legend.



Quinn, who had been looking at his replacement of an arm, examining it for what he knew would be the last time, looked to the ceiling of the armored room as it shook, dirt and dust slipping and falling to the floor. The scientists continued to work diligently, yet now, quicker, for they could not let all their efforts be wasted. The Void would not help them, God would not help them, the only thing now, was the extent a human would go to ensure the survival of all life. Quinn looked to their last hope, as one of them looked to him, the two sharing a nod. Yet before he could leave, they spoke aloud “Please, try not to die- You’re the last we got.. We can’t lose you too, like we lost the others.”



He looked to them, and paused, “...Try to finish it before the DAW gets through us. It won’t matter what happens then.” before continuing to move towards the Frontlines, the sounds of explosions echoing through the halls, the roar of enemies turned allies overpowering even that- Quinn pulled up his ATHA Shotgun, one of the few that were in the hands of the Resistance, examining and making some last minute modifications to it’s parts to be more capable of harming the enemy and it’s nigh indestructible armor.



Remnant Sangheili fought with their companions valiantly, firing as many plasma shots as they could plasma pistols, repeaters, you name it, they used every weapon at their disposal, the majority pulling out energy shields and placing them at the doorway and holding the line. As a Sangheili would be shot in the side of her stomach, she reeled down, back into the cover, as a Medic patched her wound as swiftly as possible. His Stormtrooper helmet clashing against the remaining light that was soon covered by dark clouds. Another Trooper rose from cover, firing Type-25 Spiker rounds into the enemy, only to be immediately shot dead, his head left without a single piece of flesh that remained. Traitor Federation Soldiers followed with their comrades, firing rounds into them without concern for themselves. Of course the Brutes that survived still were not just going to watch the fireworks, firing their Maulers, Spikers, and all of such with their allies. Yet with all of this their numbers began to decrease evermore, the enemy’s precision unmatched. At the very front, waited those wielding their melee weapons, the few Sangheili and Brutes that sat carried Gravity Hammers, while the other forces with them, most of whom being any Kromus that remained from their rush, fired all they had into them. To no avail.



Despite their efforts, the rounds dumped into their armor was ineffective at best, and useless at worst. Those on the Turrets placed on the side of the base were then swiftly shot dead, as the turrets themselves were blown to smithereens from a rocket. Some at the front and even behind those, pulled out LMGs, though even to the term, the guns were larger than even some sentient creatures, aiming them true, and unleashing a furious stream of charged kinetic rounds, practically cutting through the cover and some of those sitting behind it, the Medic that had attempted to ensure his allies’ survival, killed along with these casualties, as well as the phalanx of Sangheili and their shields, dropping some, and disabling others with terrible, brutal wounds. And as they pushed onto the first line, were immediately sent attempts to send them back, no, simply just damage, these behemoths. Unfortunately, they were far quicker, some grabbing the hammer before it struck and moving to execute the opposition, others suffered a critical failure as the Spartans grabbed their Hammers, and slammed it into them. As for those not wielding Hammers, were swiftly executed as they pathetically tried to resist.



From behind the Phalanx however came the last Spartan, the last legend that lived to fight against the DAW still.. Living longer than his fellow Spartans, his friends, family, from those he never even knew from this once vast and lively universe. This was it, he knew it as they knew it when it had come to this time.. The end. His, end. He moved through the gaps of the phalanx, rushing out with his shotgun and pulling the bar back one notch, firing from a much longer range than what’s found on a Shotgun, firing charged kinetic pellets into the enemy, managing only to push back whatever was hit, yet what he shot at was not going to take these sudden attacks without retaliating, firing more rounds at the Spartan, just barely scraping his shields as he quickly dodged out of the way, time slowing, adrenaline flooding his systems, his blood boiling. This was it. This is what the Spartans before him experienced, if he recalls the name.. It was… Spartan Time? No.. It didn’t matter. What did, was what he was going to do during it. He was going to take as many down with him as he could, continuing to fire into the legions.



Yet as he ran without fear, those behind cover followed suit, choosing rather, to die with their ally, the last Stormtrooper pulling out a Z6 and firing as he walked forward towards the enemy with his allies- The Brutes leaped over, rushing with no weapons, the Sangheili and those that remained wielding one or two. They disregarded those that fell from this charge, continuing on without fear. A Brute managed to grab one of these VI’s, only for a fist to slam into their head, splattering it into a mush, before the Spartan began continuing their fire.



Quinn pushed a notch back further, the pellets from three rounds melting into a single bullet, said bullet than being super charged, before flying out of the barrel into a Spartan’s head, their helmet contorting from the sheer force provided from it. And as the armor fell, he placed his foot on top of the chestplate, and, switching between the second and last notch, began unleashing an onslaught onto the enemy, dodging as many bullets as he could, his allies, however, though valiantly standing against them, began to fall, one after the other, some more brutally than others.. Still, he stood tall, refusing to go down, his “Spartan Time” slowing down, the bullets beginning to tear through his body, flesh and blood began to drip, his legs wishing to fall, yet he refused their cries, gritting his teeth, his eyes becoming a blood red as his injuries began to overtake him.. But he refused again, forcing his body to continue on, even as the enemy surrounded him, one knocking away his gun, and grabbing him by the face..



But that was all that was needed, the time provided, was enough, as the scientists finished what they could.. Not quite a time machine, but a device still capable of at least preventing this future from hopefully ever happening. With a slam of the button, those upon the Capital Ship, the Fleet Admiral who had organized all of this, placed an order to glass the facility, to exterminate the planet’s life, knowing the Spartans would survive it, their armor ensuring so. With a slam of the button to send the message to the past, and the fist of the Spartan crushing his helmet, Quinn.. Smiled. His vision dulling, as a laser began falling towards the planet, before a disgusting, horrid CRUNCH and SQUELCH.





Quinn rose from his bed in a cold sweat, looking around to find himself in the newfound bed he had claimed within this.. Dissatisfying future. He placed a hand to his temple, his vision becoming blurred by a mysterious glow of words, numbers and the like, yet the assortment was random. He didn’t comprehend it.. He figured he should go to Medical, check up on.. Whatever the Hell he just saw. Both the message, and the dream. Yet as he put on his armor, one of many Officers arrived to inform him he’s needed on a mission. He moved to grab his helmet, looking at the front, breathing in.. And sighing. He knew not why he had such a… Vivid, dream, was it even a dream? But Spartans don’t think anything about the Past. They focus on the future. And it doesn’t matter where he is.