Please Remain Silent
“I’m telling you, ‘Regano, there’s got to be a better word for it!”
Louisiana leaned casually against the bark of a tree at the edge of the clearing she was in, still trying to convince the agent in burnt-orange that she’d been paired with for their mission that “hyper-active” was neither an accurate, nor an acceptable, description for her. She had been waiting for half an hour in the same spot, and had spent the entire time arguing her point with the Hispanic Freelancer who was a quarter of a mile away.
“Yeah, chiquita, I know that’s what you think, but that’s just the best way of putting it,” Oregon replied over the radio, his voice still as amused as when they’d landed and their conversation had begun.
The silver Freelancer narrowed her eyes in vague frustration, ignoring the how her lips wanted to tug up at the little endearment. It was kind of easy for a person to forget that Oregon’s family had been from Harvest, because he didn’t really have any kind of accent. Easy, that is, until he slipped into Spanglish or mentioned his abuelita or his Tia Adriana or something. There was really something to be said for a guy who could speak Spanish without stumbling over words or butchering the pronunciation…
“Well, how about ‘energetic’? That’s a good word,” Louisiana attempted to convince her fellow soldier, but was quickly shot down, not that she particularly minded. This one-on-one conversation was fun, and there was really nothing else to do while they waited for their target.
“Nope, sorry chica, but I’ve seen you in the mornings before you’ve had coffee or done your training, and there’s nothing remotely ‘energetic’ about you,” Oregon teased, his voice open and easy.
The female soldier’s immediate retort of “Screw you, Oregano! I’ve seen you in the mornings, too, and you’re not such a pretty sight either!” garnered a throaty chuckle from her comrade-in-arms.
“I never said you weren’t pretty, babe,” the orange-armored agent protested, still laughing. “I just said you’re not energetic.”
Louisiana grinned in response.
“Whatever, bro,” she said, rolling her eyes at her fellow agent’s attempts at flirting. “Well, what about—”
The silver Freelancer’s voice cut off when she saw her motion sensor pick up movement heading her way down the trail of the forest she was currently standing in the middle of.
“I’ve got hostiles,” Louisiana hissed into her radio, stealthily darting across the clearing to situate herself behind a tree that gave her a better view of the forest trail.
“Copy that,” Oregon’s low voice carried over the radio, making it sound like he was whispering into her ear from behind. “I’m in position, but I can’t guarantee any good shots from over here. Just don’t, you know, do anything stupid.”
The younger agent scoffed at that, and sincerely wished that she could turn towards the direction of his vantage-point—a tree that offered a relatively unobstructed view—and stick her tongue out at him.
The two Freelancers waited silently, barely breathing and ears straining, for their target to arrive. After several minutes, Louisiana heard the sound of shuffling feet, the occasional animalistic hiss, and strange voices going back and forth.
She edged around the tree slightly when her targets passed her and entered the clearing, making sure that she was still out of sight. When she estimated that they were right in the middle, she ducked around her cover so that she was just behind the group of Covenant soldiers.
Louisiana pulled her knife from its sheath and dispatched two Jackals and a Grunt without a hitch. The remaining Covie soldiers were a bit of a problem, as the female Freelancer had miscalculated with the Grunt and sliced his breathing apparatus full of methane as well as his throat.
The rest of the alien group—three Jackals and three Grunts—all turned to look at her when they heard the rather loud bang.
“… Well, just fuck.”
Louisiana dove out of the way when Covenant soldiers opened fire on her, ducking behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. After a moment of waiting, the silver-armored soldier removed her DMR from the holster on her back and stepped out from behind her cover. She quickly took out two of the Grunts with headshots, and managed to get a bullet past the shield of one of the Jackals, after another two being deflected.
The Freelancer dodged plasma-fire as she approached the rest of the (now rather panicked-looking) squad of alien soldiers. She lunged forward, knocking one of the Jackals’ plasma pistol out of his hand, and twisted his head around in one smooth, confident motion. She turned to face the other two, who looked at each other then at Louisiana then back at each other, and ran.
Louisiana sighed, aimed, and fired, taking both down with headshots before they even got to the edge of the clearing.
The young woman looked around at the corpses on the forest floor, before shrugging and beginning to pat down each of the bodies. “Hey, ‘Regano? I don’t think it’s—”
Before she could finish, Louisiana was tackled to the ground with roughly the force of a mack truck. Dazed and confused, she only just managed to kick out her legs roll out of the way of the rather deadly-looking energy sword that had been aiming for her head.
She rolled to her feet and came face to face with all eight feet of a very large, very angry Covenant Elite.
“… Well, just fuck,” the female soldier breathed out. The Elite let out a roar and charged Louisiana.
Stumbling backwards, the Freelancer squeezed the trigger of her DMR until she ran out of ammo, ducking around the large alien soldier and narrowly avoiding one of his crippling kicks.
Damn things kicked like horses, she knew.
Unfortunately, damn things were also fast and before she knew it, Louisiana was slammed by the throat against the bark of a tree. She spent a few precious seconds fumbling for her knife, eyes trained on the brightly-glowing sword, and when she felt its hilt in her hand, plunged it into the Sangheili’s neck.
He let out a very wet, gurgling sound and both he and his human adversary dropped to the ground.
Louisiana took a few well-deserved moments to breathe and collect herself, before getting to her feet. She looked at the body on the ground, at the dark purple blood pouring from the wound in his neck, and gagged as she retrieved her blade.
“Thanks for the help, Oregon,” the silver Freelancer said sarcastically, trying her best not to be shaken by what had just transpired. No matter how many times it happened, Louisiana was sure that nobody would ever get used to encounters with Covenant Elites. Grunts? Of course. Jackals? Why not?
Elites?… No. Just no.
Without warning, two loud shots rang out. Louisiana slowly turned around, to see the bodies of two more, silver-armored Elites slump to the ground, their Active Camo flickering off-line.
“You’re welcome,” she heard her orange-armored companion reply over the radio.
Louisiana stood there for a moment, staring at the additional corpses, thinking, Did they seriously set a trap... for our trap? Then she crossed the distance between herself and them, and picked up a bright purple rectangular object, roughly half the size of her head.
“Got it,” she said, holding it up and turning towards the direction of Oregon’s chosen tree. “I’ll radio for evac.”
Two hours later, as they were unloading from Four-Seven-Niner’s Pelican and heading in to the Director to deliver their objective, Louisiana snapped her fingers.
“I’ve got it!” She told the agent in burnt-orange walking next to her, excitedly. She waited for a moment, hands held out in front of her for dramatic effect, before saying reverently, “… Rambunctious.”
The silver Freelancer looked over at her companion expectantly.
Oregon seemed to mull it over for a minute, before smiling at the young agent and saying, “Sure, chiquita, you can be ‘rambunctious’.”
Louisiana grinned, linked her arm through her comrade’s, and entered the room with a spring in her step.
Louisiana leaned casually against the bark of a tree at the edge of the clearing she was in, still trying to convince the agent in burnt-orange that she’d been paired with for their mission that “hyper-active” was neither an accurate, nor an acceptable, description for her. She had been waiting for half an hour in the same spot, and had spent the entire time arguing her point with the Hispanic Freelancer who was a quarter of a mile away.
“Yeah, chiquita, I know that’s what you think, but that’s just the best way of putting it,” Oregon replied over the radio, his voice still as amused as when they’d landed and their conversation had begun.
The silver Freelancer narrowed her eyes in vague frustration, ignoring the how her lips wanted to tug up at the little endearment. It was kind of easy for a person to forget that Oregon’s family had been from Harvest, because he didn’t really have any kind of accent. Easy, that is, until he slipped into Spanglish or mentioned his abuelita or his Tia Adriana or something. There was really something to be said for a guy who could speak Spanish without stumbling over words or butchering the pronunciation…
“Well, how about ‘energetic’? That’s a good word,” Louisiana attempted to convince her fellow soldier, but was quickly shot down, not that she particularly minded. This one-on-one conversation was fun, and there was really nothing else to do while they waited for their target.
“Nope, sorry chica, but I’ve seen you in the mornings before you’ve had coffee or done your training, and there’s nothing remotely ‘energetic’ about you,” Oregon teased, his voice open and easy.
The female soldier’s immediate retort of “Screw you, Oregano! I’ve seen you in the mornings, too, and you’re not such a pretty sight either!” garnered a throaty chuckle from her comrade-in-arms.
“I never said you weren’t pretty, babe,” the orange-armored agent protested, still laughing. “I just said you’re not energetic.”
Louisiana grinned in response.
“Whatever, bro,” she said, rolling her eyes at her fellow agent’s attempts at flirting. “Well, what about—”
The silver Freelancer’s voice cut off when she saw her motion sensor pick up movement heading her way down the trail of the forest she was currently standing in the middle of.
“I’ve got hostiles,” Louisiana hissed into her radio, stealthily darting across the clearing to situate herself behind a tree that gave her a better view of the forest trail.
“Copy that,” Oregon’s low voice carried over the radio, making it sound like he was whispering into her ear from behind. “I’m in position, but I can’t guarantee any good shots from over here. Just don’t, you know, do anything stupid.”
The younger agent scoffed at that, and sincerely wished that she could turn towards the direction of his vantage-point—a tree that offered a relatively unobstructed view—and stick her tongue out at him.
The two Freelancers waited silently, barely breathing and ears straining, for their target to arrive. After several minutes, Louisiana heard the sound of shuffling feet, the occasional animalistic hiss, and strange voices going back and forth.
She edged around the tree slightly when her targets passed her and entered the clearing, making sure that she was still out of sight. When she estimated that they were right in the middle, she ducked around her cover so that she was just behind the group of Covenant soldiers.
Louisiana pulled her knife from its sheath and dispatched two Jackals and a Grunt without a hitch. The remaining Covie soldiers were a bit of a problem, as the female Freelancer had miscalculated with the Grunt and sliced his breathing apparatus full of methane as well as his throat.
The rest of the alien group—three Jackals and three Grunts—all turned to look at her when they heard the rather loud bang.
“… Well, just fuck.”
Louisiana dove out of the way when Covenant soldiers opened fire on her, ducking behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. After a moment of waiting, the silver-armored soldier removed her DMR from the holster on her back and stepped out from behind her cover. She quickly took out two of the Grunts with headshots, and managed to get a bullet past the shield of one of the Jackals, after another two being deflected.
The Freelancer dodged plasma-fire as she approached the rest of the (now rather panicked-looking) squad of alien soldiers. She lunged forward, knocking one of the Jackals’ plasma pistol out of his hand, and twisted his head around in one smooth, confident motion. She turned to face the other two, who looked at each other then at Louisiana then back at each other, and ran.
Louisiana sighed, aimed, and fired, taking both down with headshots before they even got to the edge of the clearing.
The young woman looked around at the corpses on the forest floor, before shrugging and beginning to pat down each of the bodies. “Hey, ‘Regano? I don’t think it’s—”
Before she could finish, Louisiana was tackled to the ground with roughly the force of a mack truck. Dazed and confused, she only just managed to kick out her legs roll out of the way of the rather deadly-looking energy sword that had been aiming for her head.
She rolled to her feet and came face to face with all eight feet of a very large, very angry Covenant Elite.
“… Well, just fuck,” the female soldier breathed out. The Elite let out a roar and charged Louisiana.
Stumbling backwards, the Freelancer squeezed the trigger of her DMR until she ran out of ammo, ducking around the large alien soldier and narrowly avoiding one of his crippling kicks.
Damn things kicked like horses, she knew.
Unfortunately, damn things were also fast and before she knew it, Louisiana was slammed by the throat against the bark of a tree. She spent a few precious seconds fumbling for her knife, eyes trained on the brightly-glowing sword, and when she felt its hilt in her hand, plunged it into the Sangheili’s neck.
He let out a very wet, gurgling sound and both he and his human adversary dropped to the ground.
Louisiana took a few well-deserved moments to breathe and collect herself, before getting to her feet. She looked at the body on the ground, at the dark purple blood pouring from the wound in his neck, and gagged as she retrieved her blade.
“Thanks for the help, Oregon,” the silver Freelancer said sarcastically, trying her best not to be shaken by what had just transpired. No matter how many times it happened, Louisiana was sure that nobody would ever get used to encounters with Covenant Elites. Grunts? Of course. Jackals? Why not?
Elites?… No. Just no.
Without warning, two loud shots rang out. Louisiana slowly turned around, to see the bodies of two more, silver-armored Elites slump to the ground, their Active Camo flickering off-line.
“You’re welcome,” she heard her orange-armored companion reply over the radio.
Louisiana stood there for a moment, staring at the additional corpses, thinking, Did they seriously set a trap... for our trap? Then she crossed the distance between herself and them, and picked up a bright purple rectangular object, roughly half the size of her head.
“Got it,” she said, holding it up and turning towards the direction of Oregon’s chosen tree. “I’ll radio for evac.”
Two hours later, as they were unloading from Four-Seven-Niner’s Pelican and heading in to the Director to deliver their objective, Louisiana snapped her fingers.
“I’ve got it!” She told the agent in burnt-orange walking next to her, excitedly. She waited for a moment, hands held out in front of her for dramatic effect, before saying reverently, “… Rambunctious.”
The silver Freelancer looked over at her companion expectantly.
Oregon seemed to mull it over for a minute, before smiling at the young agent and saying, “Sure, chiquita, you can be ‘rambunctious’.”
Louisiana grinned, linked her arm through her comrade’s, and entered the room with a spring in her step.