The name of the HRP goes here

Teria walked into the warehouse, checking his motion tracker. No movement, or at least nothing he could read through the false hits from the swinging chains. It used to be a Scorpion production factory, the parts all still partly in place to create more, just with no power. His head lamps kicked on a moment later, illuminating almost nothing in the darkness, but at least it was something. He moved towards a door and listened for any sounds of contact, but the only thing he could hear was the wind and the sounds of rustling chains and creaking metals. He readied his Assault Rifle and entered the room. Empty. He took a few slow deep breaths, trying to calm his heart. He had done this several times over the last few weeks, but it never got any easier. He kept his gun up and walked towards the other door, marked as the office. With any luck, he'd find his answers in there.

Teria had woken up in a pile of rubble, memory gone and a helmet with his name on it nearby. At least he thinks it was his helmet. It fit and had the letters T-E-R-I-A scratched into the back of it. He doesn't remember where he got his suit from, his gun, or how he knew it all worked, but it did and he did. His first quest for an answer as to who he was lead him to an abandoned military outpost, all of the personnel killed by plasma rounds. He remembered something about aliens, a Covenant, and that he was at war with them. No, humans were at war with them, but none of the bodies he found matched his size and none of them wore his armor. He wasn't sure he was human, and he hadn't found a way to get out of the armor he was in to check if he looked like them. Only the distorted reflection in his cracked visor gave him any indication of who he was, b ut even that was murky. As Teria rummaged around the desks, casually ripping the metal apart in his search for documents relating to him, an idle thought wondered if he was alone on this planet, if anyone had survived.

The battlefield was dead; bodies lay like scattered leaves, the husks of vehicles fixed to the ground like long dead trees. Moving from cover point to cover point, the solitary figure ran, clutching their assault rifle. Boots thudded on the ground, stamping spent casings into the dirt while avoiding weapons so as not to trip. Their panting was low, muffled by the facial mask they wore, eyes scanning the area each time they stopped. Shit shit shit, they thought, desperately trying to figure out the next move.

Extraction was a bust; when everyone pulled out, they were too far in the fighting to make it back. All they could manage was to hide, wait for the enemy to pass....and make a break for safety. It had felt like hours they had run, before reaching the outpost. Just the small faint spark of hope that there'd be a radio, or better yet a way off this rock, was what kept them going.

Even then, they could feel hope dying. The base was a wreck, hit hard by the enemy. Even more of the alien bodies could be found there, all killed as they assaulted the place. Gingerly, the forgotten marine made their way through the dead towards the base, wondering if there was any hope at all.

Ragged breaths echo in the darkened base. A shadowy form is pressed against a wall next to an open door. The figure peaks into the room and gazes upon an alien group. Short little beasts yell at one another in a foreign tongue. Their kind had come abruptly planetside and launched a full scale mass genocide on the shadowy figure's people. They had done their best to fend off the legions, but it all ended with the base's walls being painted in blood. To this figure's knowledge, they are the only survivor of this base attack and they had been going through extremes to defend it and make their way to the comm room to set up a distress beacon.

There is a small amount of light emanating from the room the shadowed figure is gazing into, and for a brief second their head can be seen before it is pulled back into the darkness. In that brief moment, their Green JFO helmet can be seen. They take a deep breath and check their rounds in their pistol, the only weapon they have left. With a deep breath to steel their resolve, they turn in front of the door and the sound of gunfire erupts. They catch the aliens by surprise and two of them suffer from their methane masks being punctured and they subsequently choke to death. A third one tries to quickly find cover, but is caught in the leg and then the chest. The last one had scurried off and once all of its friends had been picked off, grabs two plasma grenades and activates them.

Blue light is cast upon their base security armor and the light being cast intensifies with each passing second. They quickly being to move away from the suicidal alien and move back down the hallway they had come through. They take a stance, aiming their weapon through the doorway and without a second wasted, the suicide seeker rounds the corner screaming its incoherent and alien words. Amidst this screaming, multiple gunshots break it apart. The grunt drops to the ground, and is then decimated by its own grenades with a loud explosion that rocks dust from cracks in the deepest portions of the base. They hurriedly make their way back into the comm room and begin to activate the radio system.

"This is a distress call for anyone who can hear this message. If you're seeking refuge from the recent attack, please make your way to Gamma Base. Expect Covenant stragglers." A female voice says. For extra measures, she gives coordinates to the location of the base. Her hope is reinforcements arrive before the clean up crews can begin to march on her location. "We have weapons and ammunition. Just mind the corpses." She finishes, setting this message on loop as she departs for the armory.

Teria's HUD beeped and played a distress call. He listened to it a few times and tried to remember where that was. Did he come from there? No...this was...something else...a different base. Was it? No, no it was the same. It had to be the same. Abandoning his search around the office, he held his rifle aloft and headed out, retracing his steps out into the blasted fields to the outpost he had first come from. Someone was there, and perhaps they could tell him who he was.

The distress call was received, played over the headset of the soldier. If nothing else, it reignited their hope, and had them sprinting for the base. They were tempted to respond, let the speaker know there was at least one other survivor....but their training told them otherwise, urging radio silence for now. Entering the base through a broken section of wall, they slowly crept through the darkened hall, rifle at the ready and eyes on their motion tracker.

The rhythmic sound of of her armor hitting the ground fill the dark and empty halls of the base. She makes sure to not touch the husks left behind from the bloodshed as she makes her way to check the armory for any intruders. She pauses for a moment and takes up a DMR from a fallen soldier and any rounds he had on him. Once satisfied raiding the shell of a man, she returns to her pace. She goes over a checklist of things she needs to do in her head, crossing off the comm beacon. Her next objective is securing the weapons. Next is bringing power back to the base, and finally is securing any aircraft, getting the survivors and herself off of this godforsaken planet. She can secure the base as she completes her objectives.

The base was now visible, but still a good distance away. Strange vehicles he both knew and didn't now dotted the landscape, smoking burning husks with a variety of flames coming out of them. Teria did his best to make his way to the structure. Base. Outpost. The outpost, that's right. He walk-jogged past the wreckage, trying not to look too hard at the dead and burnt bodies

Was that movement? they thought, noting a blip on their HUD. It was at the edge of the tracker, and vanished soon after being seen. Not willing to pass it up, they headed in the same direction, doing their best to stay quiet, heart hammering in their chest. Hope was fueling them, as more than anything they wanted it to be another human.

She comes to a full stop as she hits a corner and lets her breathing regulate and turning her headlamp on. She rounds the corner with her DMR raised and scans the area. Satisfied with it being clear, she moves up to a set of large doors propped open by a few human and alien corpses. She nervously swallows and takes a peek into the room. Weapons lay scattered about and the entire room looks like a mess. Blood and gore strewn across the walls and lockers.

Clear She thinks to herself. All's quiet. Time to load up.

She marches into the room, picking up a pistol and loading up on ammunition for the DMR. She takes a few grenades as well. However, during her shopping session she begins to here the pitter patter of small feet nearing the room. Her HUD backs this up by showing two blips approaching her location. She scrambles to find cover against a locker overlooking the door and she turns off her headlamp for good measure. She wants to make sure she gets the drop on them.

Motion tacker blinking again, they knew they were on the right track. Taking it slow, they peeked around a corner. Nada, they thought. Moving forward, he sees a doorway marked 'Armory' with plenty of bodies scattered outside it, scorch marks and bullet holes along the walls. Creeping to the door, they had their back to the wall before rounding the corner into the armory. "I come in peace," they said, their voice muffled by the face mask, but unmistakably male.

She jumps a bit at the voice and the form that comes through the door, but she takes a second to digest it. It's obviously a human, but she stays on guard from the second blip. She looks at the tracker once more to try to confirm its existence but after a few seconds pass there is nothing. Did she just make that blip up? A side effect of the trauma she had endured through her training and through the missions she had gone on? She shakes her head and moves into open view.

"Sorry for the mess, I haven't had the time to clean up." She says half jokingly.

"Hey so long as you're human, you can be a slob for all I care," the marine said, relief evident in their voice. "Corporal Peter Corbin, 32nd Platoon, please tell me you've got some drinking water."

She nods, "Good to have you, Corporal. I'm Major Andrea Faulkner, Spartan 3 designation 189." She motions her hand behind her with a pointed thumb, "Mess hall is down this way. We can talk more there, gather up any supplies you need and follow me." She says quickly, walking quickly out of the double doors behind her and turning her headlamp on.

"Spartan?" Peter asked, a little surprised. "Thought you guys wore bigger armor." Waiting for her response, he began picking up whatever wasn't spent or damaged beyond use.

She shakes her head, the lamp lighting up where she turns her head. "Our elder brothers and sisters have the bulkier armor." She replies, checking the ends of the hallway for any sign of life besides her and Corbin.

"Gee, must be one hell of a family reunion," Peter quipped. Content with the spare ammo he found, he stashed them in his bag, before moving to follow the Spartan.

Spartans.....they looked human. Same shape, same language. But sometimes, they seemed inhuman. Was it the strength? The way they worked or moved? It made Peter think of machines, precise, powerful....but cold. Stow it, he told himself. Survive first. Dwell on philosophy later.

"Got what you need?" Andrea asks and not waiting for a response she begins moving, DMR up towards the mess hall. Sure, this throws a wrench in her plans, but it's helpful for her if she can have multiple hands helping her out with the base's management while they wait for more people to come in. She stays quiet, not really too keen on engaging in conversation until they are out of the tunnel where they could get caught from behind.

"Affirmative," Peter replied, following her lead and covering her back. He had several questions already, but for now stayed quiet. Well, there was one question that needed answering. "Spot any hostiles?" he asked.

"There was a platoon of Grunts in the comm room I had to dispatch. Since then, everything's been eerily quiet." Andrea says, stacking on a closed set of doors with a plaque on top that read "Mess Hall". She brings up her fist asking Corbin to hold, she looks through the small window placed in the door and then fans her hand out, pointing to the other side of the set of doors asking Corbin to go to that side.

Knowing a nod would be pointless, he moved to where the Spartan indicated, standing by the door. Rifle ready, he gave the ammo meter one check, before giving a brief nod.

"Quick breach, I didn't see anything through the window, but these doors are closed. I know when I passed them earlier, they were open." Andrea says and gives a countdown from three with her fingers and as soon as the final number drops, she turns in front of the door and kicks it open. With her DMR raised, she looks into the room. Tables had been flipped from the initial attack to create make shift cover. Multiple sources of plasma scorch had burned away most of the tables, but a lot of them were still perfectly intact. At the sound of the door being forced open, a plasma bolt comes flying in her direction, missing and hitting the wall next to the door.

"Contact!" She calls and begins returning fire.

Kicking his own door open, Peter poked his rifle around the corner, firing rapid bursts into the room. Another bolt of plasma went flying through the door, hissing past as it singed the air.

Andrea takes the cover next to the door once more as more bolts of plasma force their way through the doors. She looks on the HUD and she has confirmed multiple contacts. About four and by the way they're acting, they may have a commanding unit in their with them. She peeks through the door DMR forward and takes some potshots at the exposed methane tank of a Grunt.

Shredder rounds pulped the tables at their edges, the next salvo hitting one of the grunts in the head and turning them to hamburger.

"Nice shot!" Andrea calls out to Corbin, noticing one Grunt trying to move to a different place of cover, she brings it down to join its comrades in the afterlife. With the Covenant forces dropping, Andrea takes the chance to move up to a nearby table and crouches behind it. She takes a second to reload before applying suppression to allow Corbin to join her.

Thanks to the suppression, Peter managed to move up and take cover. Peeking up for a shot, a plasma bolt whizzed by inches from his head and forced him back down. "Yeah fuck you too!" he yelled upon hearing one of the grunts yap something in alien.

Andrea brings her head up to look at enemy positions, and as soon as she does she sees an Elite joining the battle. She stands and takes a few shots at it, lighting its shield up. Once the Elite sees her, a hail of plasma fire from its plasma rifle soars at her. She drops quickly and the plasma fire hits the wall in the hallway.

"We've got a bigger fish in this sea." She notifies Corbin.

Teria ran towards the sound of gunfire. Gunfire meant a fight and a fight meant that whoever his ally was was in trouble. He turned the corner and skidded to a stop behind some rubble, two human soldiers on one side of the room and some aliens on the other. With only a second or two to think, the blue armored Spartan turned and opened up, letting out a full auto spray directly at the Elite

A new source of gunfire rips through the air and catches Andrea's and the Elite's attention. Its shields drain quickly and as soon as the shields popped, she stood and added to the fire. Fresh blood flowed from the flanked Elite and it dropped to the ground in a heap. With the major threat gone, she turned to focus on the remaining Grunts. Taking one out with a couple shots to the methane tank.

Teria added in to the massacre, only stopping his hail of gunfire when his mag ran dry and he had to reload. But by the the Grunts were in such chaos and disarray he could have probably studied up on how the assault rifle actually functions mechanically and he could kill them

Beneath the rubble and corpses, something stirred. The rubble shifted slightly, a few of the smaller pieces of debris scattering as the main bulk moved. The rubble was pushed aside, an armoured hand resting on it as the owner regained their breath. The figure sat up, and was clearly human, though she was encased in black armour. The visor was cracked, the chestplate scorched, though she appeared to be in good condtion.

After slowly scanning the area, she reached for a fallen rifle, a BR55, only to find she couldn't reach it. It took her several seconds to process what she was seeing, or rather, what she wasn't seeing; her left arm. She blinked, shouldn't losing a limb hurt a lot more? There didn't seem to be any bleeding, at least not from her arm, beneath the helmet she could feel the dried blood coating her face. After using her other arm to retrieve the rifle and attach it to her back, she finally stood.

After relearning how to stand, she reached up to her helmet, and switched on her comms to her handler. Static. Not a problem. She'd just regroup with friendlies still planetside. She cycled through the comm channels of each unit she had access to, though they were mostly the same. Some had sound, but it was mostly just the crackling of fires still raging throughout the area. Undaunted by the prospect of being alone, she picked up a nearby magnum and moved out.

With the added support, new corpses joined the ones already splayed out. Andrea reloads her DMR and flashes her headlamp twice signalling the all clear.

"Thank you for the support, soldier." She calls out to the newcomer. It seems as though her distress signal had gotten through to these people easily, which means there might be others who'll be joining up soon. It will also mean she will need to brief these two on her plans to ensure optimal escape.

Ashes. Asphalt. Acid.

The acrid smells hit his nose first, bring him slowly out of the darkness. He needed to focus, think about something, gain his sense back.

Ash means fire.

Well that was his first priority. He lifted himself up off of the ground then remembered and let himself lie back down again.

Fire means smoke. Smoke rises.

That was good. He was gaining his sense back. He lay there, let his vision clear. Metal. Grass. Rock.

Outdoors. No roof. No smoke.

He stood up, slowly. Metal. Trees. Sky. Burning. Fire.

Move.

He walked forward. Stumbled. Fell. Stood up. Moved. Once he had cleared the area, he sat down again and held his head in his hands.

Focus. Memories.

"It was no problem. Always glad to help take down..." He had to pause, get his memories back for a second. "These Covies." His pause was noticeable, very noticable

Progress was much slower than she'd originally expected, as she'd apparently taken a round in the leg before being knocked unconscious. It wasn't life threatening, thanks to the biofoam, but it did cause her to limp, and it wasn't exactly painless. Her missing limb was also burning, but she pushed those sensations as far away as possible, they were distracting, and being distracted meant dying. She couldn't remember if they'd completed their mission, or even what their mission was. There might have been others alive, but without working comms, there was no way to know.

Andrea takes notice of the pause, but with no real reason to press it for now, she decides to introduce herself.

"Major Andrea Faulkner, Spartan-III designation 189. Lunch has kinda been postponed for the foreseeable future." She cracks a joke, hoping to ease the tension of battle.

"I'm Teria. I think. Uhm, nice to meet you Andrea Faulkner." He smiled under his helmet, forgetting that it was opaque. "I can live without lunch for a bit. Not too long though, if that's okay." His tone made it sound like he didnt fully get the joke.

No memories.

He shook his head and decided to focus on something else. Pain.

Where? Leg? No. Foot. Broken. Minor.

He pushed the feeling away and moved on. Everything else seem to be fine. He looked up again. Eyes clearer now. He was outside. The dirt and stones were kicked up all around. The grass was on fire, along with the twisted metal thing.

Look further.

There was a building nearby. A large factory. It looked ruined.

Equipment. Gun. No. Damn.

He looked around him but could see no sign of the weapon he remembered carrying.

No weapon. No memories. Fire. Emergency. Contain.

He stood up. Stumbled. Didn't fall. Progress.

"Teria, huh? Odd name." Andrea says, ignoring his failing at joke recognition. "I don't know how secure this base is at the current moment. Teria, did you see any hostiles coming in from wherever you came in at? What about the situation outside" She asks, trying to get a sense of the situation. She turns to Corbin. "What about you, Corbin? What have you seen?"

With no clear goal, she continued to move through the area, scanning with her magnum. Everything was silent, like there was no life left on the planet. It was peaceful, in its own way. She tried to remember her mission; from the state of the building she'd awoken under, it seemed that holding off enemy forces was likely. If so, she'd failed.

Suddenly, she darted forwards, bringing her magnum up to her eye and slamming against a wall. She peeked around the corner, aiming her weapon at the turret of the alien tank. Wraith. Something told her in the back of her mind. Secondary armaments; Either an operated plasma cannon, or dual automated plasma cannons. Primary armament; 35cm Plasma mortar. Thankfully, it was already ruined, the crew's charred corpses still inside. She slowly lowered her magnum, and continued to move.

He moved forward, began containing the fire. His suit helped him to stamp the fire down. He didn't understand what the metal thing was, it was too twisted.

Memory. Team. No. Partner.

He needed to find them. So he moved off towards the building. It made sense that was the likely location. His ears were still ringing and though he could smell the ashes, see the fire that he extinguished, taste the smoke and feel the heat, he couldn't hear it.

Suit. Diagnostics

Instinctively, he opened up his biometrics indicator. They showed severe damage to both ears. He hoped that was fixable.

Indicative of a loud sound. Crash land? No. Not enough wreckage. Thoughts clearing. Good.

A few more minutes of walking, and the peaceful silence was broken. She took cover, and carefully assessed the situation. She counted the contacts ahead of her, numbering three on the ground, and one in a fourth-storey window.
Perosus latrunculus. She thought to herself, Jackals. Deployed as marksmen and scouts. The the ones on the ground were armed with three plasma pistols, a needler and energy shields. The one on overwatch was likely equipped with a sniper rifle of some kind.

She had two options, she could try to neutralise the sniper, and engage the ground units, but that ran the risk of her being outgunned, or she could try to evade them, but the sniper would have a clear shot at her. She took a breath, steadying herself, and scoped in on the sniper.

"Outside is a wasteland. Everything's charred and broken. No signs of life. I didnt even know either of you were alive. There's nothing for a good distance out there. I made my way to a factory before I got your distress call. Nothing at all. We might be the last ones here. What...what time is it?" Teria replied, slipping his gun onto his back

He reached the wall of the building in front of him and looked around. There was a door further down. It took a strong pull to open and he imagined it probably made noise. He hoped there were no hostiles around. Being deaf was really beginning to have its problems.

He entered into the dark hallway, walked a few feet and tripped. Remembering the flashlight on his suit, he turned it on. There were bodies on the ground. Human. Non Human.

The Spartan fired. With only one hand, the recoil was higher than it usually would have been, but she had already accounted for that and her shot landed on target, plastering the wall with purple blood. Immediately, she fired on the ground troops. She caught two of them before they could properly react, but the final one was ready, shield raised to face her. Adjusting her aim, she fired a round into the Jackal's hand, and then a follow-up into its face, though not before it could fire a shot off. Luck was on her side, it seemed, as the shot struck the wall and dissipated.
Six seconds, She said to herself, Too slow.

Andrea grabs a fallen seat, props it up and sits down. It had been some time since she had a seat and she figured now would be a good a time as any to relax a bit. "Seventeen hundred hours." She says flatly. "They struck at about noonish. That's when the building began shaking anyway. I was supposed to stay here and defend the base." She looks around and signs. "I don't think I'll be getting a promotion for this job."

With the fight over, Peter took a moment to relax before responding "Seen hell Spartan. Platoon got wiped when the Covies rolled their tanks in. Only survived by hiding in a cramped foxhole."

1700..."and the date?" Teria asked. He stayed standing, looking at the two of them like a statue. A statue with a charred and blackened surface that had some melted points here and there on the harder parts. He was eager to find out something, anything, that might lead to his memory. He tried to keep his excitement contained but it crept in a bit, despite his best efforts.

Andrea nods to Corbin, "I'm sorry for your loss, soldier." She turns to face Teria and with a puzzled tone she answers, "August 30th, 2552? What's going on with you? Did you lose your memory or something?" Her eyebrows raise behind her helmet's visor. She finally pieces the information Teria had displayed together. "Ohhh, you do. Well, color my face red, then. I've never dealt with an amnesiac." Her confused tone turns into a bit of an apologetic one.

"So I take it you have no idea who I am?" He sounded half hopeful and half desperate. The only thing he knew as his was this suit and this rifle. Nothing else he knew. "All I have to go on at the moment is the back of my helm. T-e-r-i-a." He took his face obstruction off, flipping it around so they could see. Sure enough, along the back were the letters T-E-R-I-A, along with a serious amount of melted metal that ruined whatever letters may be in between them. "Its...not much."