#have a half formed halo verse for him as a spartan

[fauscailt]

me when I've only done like 3 posts: OK but what other verses can I shove jason into

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 4: AU/Freebie (SFW)

for @dincobbweek​ this time we’re returning to a favourite AU of mine. The Halo universe!

i’ve previously explored a Halo/Mandalorian AU. the first story is very much NSFW but this story acts as a prequel showing how Cobb and Din meet in that verse

before we get started here is some very handy terminology

ODST - Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Spartan - a term for someone who was a child soldier and given physical augmentations to become a weapon ONI - Office of Naval Intelligence (so like the in universe FBI) UNSC - United Nations Space Corp (the army but in space) Covenant - invading alien forces and the main villains in the series Reach - a planet humans had settled that was destroyed by the Covenant

AO3 Link

Blast Radius

When Cobb was told by his CO to expect some heavy infantry of reinforcements, he was expecting another ODST squadron, not a Spartan III whose black and silver armour made him look more like an ONI operative than a functioning war machine for the UNSC.

Now granted, Cobb had nothing against Spartans. Spartans were the reason they were even managing to hold their own against the Covenant. But he did have a problem with this Spartan.

“Sergeant Vanth?”

Cobb looked up from the view into New Mombasa to see his Lieutenant Jo leading forward a heavily armed Spartan.

“Infantry’s arrived,” she said, and Cobb wished she didn’t have her helmet on so he could read her better.

“Sergeant Vanth,” the Spartan said. “Spartan A114 reporting in.” The Spartan then snapped to it and saluted him to show that he knew how to respect his superiors, but Cobb knew better. Spartans had a reputation to Lone Wolf it, and Cobb didn’t need that shit on his team.

“A Spartan,” he said incredulously. The Spartan easily towered over him by nearly a foot. All those augmentations and front of the line armour specs only added to the mass that made all Spartans seem unkillable. But in Cobb’s eyes, it made them cocky as well. “Wasn’t expecting a Spartan.”

“It was all they had on hand to offer,” 114 said.

“Right, well, settle in, big guy. We’re mainly search and rescue. Free hostages and get them to safety while clearing out the nests, you hear?”

114 nodded. “Loudly.” He unhooked a sniper rifle from his back and moved forward to join the rest of Cobb’s team with the look out—without needing to be told or looking to be told.

Cobb sighed. It was going to be a long fight.

…

“Vanth, come in.”

“Go ahead, Issa.”

“I’m spotting Jakal reinforcements on the rooftops. Beam rifles from the looks of it.”

“All. Squad, keep your ears on and your heads low and—”

Cobb heard a crack over head and ducked low as a second one followed shortly after. He held his battle rifle up as he looked for the source of the shots.

“Jakals are cleared. You’re free to go.”

That was 114.

Cobb sighed and clicked his tongue. “A heads up would be nice next time, 114.”

“Time’s of the essence, Sergeant.” Then he heard a ‘click’ and Cobb knew the bastard had likely muted on his end.

Fucking Spartans.

…

New Mombasa was a fucking mess. Based on the chatter they were picking up, the Covenant forces seemed to become more and more contained to one part of the city, like they were congregating. Other ODST squads had been deployed to hotter areas in the city, and Cobb’s smaller strike team made it easier for infiltration to minimalize casualties. They were the cleaning crew, really, and Cobb didn’t mind that.

But he did mind that his Spartan was deathly silent most of the time.

He had 114 act as their eyes. With his high-powered scope, he was able to get a better view of the terrain before Cobb’s team went down in to clear it out, and Cobb had to admit, 114 was a good shot. Those enhanced reflexes sure came in clutch in the best ways possible, but Cobb was expecting at least some communication on his end.

114 acted like a brick wall and Cobb hated it. He knew nothing of the Spartan, didn’t even know his name, and while it was nice to be fighting with someone who was this well skilled, Cobb didn’t know if he’d choose 114 over another top notch ODST squad.

“Looks like we got a standard fair here,” Jo said. “Couple of Brutes. Grunts as back up and a Jakal nest.”

Cobb nodded. “You see a Chieftain?”

“Nah, looks like pretty standard fare for them.”

“Good. Listen up! We clear this intersection and that gets us one step closer to the bank. You play it safe and you play it hard. Cover always. Focus fire on Jakals and Grunts and then the Brutes. Clear the field before we got in heavy. Got it?”

He received a chorus of Oo Rahs! and then utter silence from 114. “Hey, Spartan, you got that?”

The Spartan nodded and said nothing.

“Good. I want you on that roof top. Take the Jakals and then we move in. Provide cover from the Brutes if they get close.”

“I think it’d be better if I were on the ground with you,” the Spartan said, and Cobb was surprised he said anything at all—let alone battle advice.

“No,” Cobb said. “You’re best on the rooftops.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Spartan.”

He could see that 114 was frustrated with how he tightened his grip around his sniper, but he fell in line all the same and marched off to find a perch of the sight before the team moved in to clear the junction.

“Get into position,” he said to his team, and they all crouched for cover and waited for 114 to get into position.

He looked through the scope of his battle rifle and scoped out the scene. Four Brutes, half a dozen Grunts, and two Jakals. Nothing in comparison to what Cobb had dealt with before, but it was better to play things safe and slow rather than to rush in.

“114, check in,” he said.

Silence.

“114, this is Sergeant Vanth. Check in.”

Again, silence. And then he knew why.

Rather than targeting the Jakals first and letting the squadron in there was a sudden explosion that caught Cobb off guard. 114 had discharged a round into one of the plasma cells stacked in the area that took the Covenant force by surprise, killing one Brute in the onslaught. Then Cobb saw 114 jump into the fray from what should’ve been his perch, taking a running jump to clear a distance of a dozen or so feet and come to the ground in a roll to lessen the impact from a fifteen foot drop. Then he struck with deadly precision on the Covenant left recovering from the shock.

“Fuck,” Cobb said. “Issa, eyes on the Jakals.”

“You got it, Sarge.”

“The rest of you, eyes forward! Now!”

He leapt over his cover, raised his rifle against his shoulder and began to pick off the Grunts one by one, while 114 aimed for the Brutes. And he was doing so with just a magnum pistol and a knife.

One of the Brutes raised his spiker in Cobb’s direction, and he dove down behind a concrete barrier as the deadly spikes imbedded themselves into the asphalt where he had just been standing previously. A Grunt jumped into his field of vision on his left and he turned and fired, hitting the Grunt’s methane tank, which he saw spark and catch before it blew. He raised his hands for cover and then looked over the barrier to see the field. The Grunts were fleeing. The Jakals were dead, and 114 was locked in combat with the only remaining Brute until he managed to drive his knife into the Brute’s throat and finish it off with a shot from the magnum until the Brute fell dead.

Cobb charged up to him. “What was that!?”

114 wiped his knife off his vambrace before sheathing it. “I told you. It was better to have me on the ground.”

“You disobeyed an order!” It was hard to feel commanding in contrast to a Spartan, who towered over Cobb in every way and could likely throw him up against the wall.

“It was efficient. You aren’t using me for my skills.” It also didn’t help that 114 was a calm speaker, rarely showing any form of inflection.

“Your skills are firing cover. My team can handle the job on their own. Disobey me like that again and I’ll see you reassigned.”

The Spartan looked at him, head tilted down in his direction. For the longest time he didn’t move until he took a half step back.

“Clear?” Cobb said.

“Clear, Sergeant.”

“Good.”

He looked over his shoulder to his team and waved them forward. “We’re moving.”

…

Scrounging in conditions like this were hard. Training to be an ODST required a certain amount of time in the field already before jumping into training specifically to handle an orbital drop. And then from there it was ‘survive until you group up or you’re pulled out’, which meant with the sun falling on the city that was burning, it was time to break for an MRE and some water before the final push into the heart of the city to help with the withdrawal of ONI scientists. It was the last job before the UNSC was pulling out the troops, which meant that ONI was going nuclear with its facilities so it wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. New Mombasa was being abandoned in the short run. Once the Covenant was off Earth, they’d probably try to rebuild, but for now, it was pull back and see what happened.

It was nice, for a moment to sit on the ground with his back against the wall and his helmet off. It could’ve been a nice day in the city. The sun was warm. There was a breeze cooling his sticky skin from the sweat when the internal fans in his helmet couldn’t cool him fast enough.

But then he saw the Spartan who stood there rigidly off to the side of their little encampment. He had his back to the rest of them and seemed as if he was still on patrol despite the fact that the area was safe and they needed to rest before the final push.

Cobb sighed and got to his weary feet. He walked forward, grabbing at his pouch for one of the MREs he still had left. “Hey, Spartan.”

114 only turned to look over his shoulder.

“You eat yet?”

“Not hungry,” he said, before looking over the highway they were on and the sheer drop it led to.

“Come on, partner. You gotta eat. We’ve been going for near twelve hours and at least another twelve yet before we’re out for good.” Cobb stepped in front of him and handed out the MRE. He didn’t know if Spartans had the same standards as ODSTs. Did he carry MREs? Looked like he had water at the least.

Then 114 did lift his hand and take the MRE from Cobb’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to it, pal.” He stepped back, slapped 114 on the arm, and went back to his squad.

Then, when Cobb was sitting on the ground once more, he saw the Spartan move to a concrete barrier and take a seat. Then he removed his helmet, showing only a shock of dark hair, overgrown by UNSC standards. He didn’t see his face, but at least the Spartan ate.

…

Their final push into New Mombasa was the ONI facility itself, a giant cube looking building built in the center of a manmade pond to look fancy. It was a rough sight, but under the cover of darkness, it wasn’t like Cobb could see it all that well. All he was looking at was the sight of four ONI scientists being overlooked by a Covenant strike team—which included a Brute Chieftain.

Chieftains were worse than the usual foot soldier Brutes. Their armour was heavier, including armour that could only be struck through or cracked at the very least with specific armour piercing rounds. Chieftains also usually carried heavier weaponry, and this one had a gravity hammer on his back.

“They’ll want to keep the scientists alive,” Cobb said. “That’ll be our advantage to get in. Issa, what do you see?”

“By my count? Five Brutes on top of the Chieftain. A dozen Grunts. Jakals with shields but no beam rifles.”

“The structure doesn’t make good for sniper nests,” Jo added.

“114, you there?” Cobb asked.

“I’m here.”

“Report in.”

“I’m in position. Not the easiest place to leave in a pinch if you need back up.”

“We’ll go slow,” Cobb said. “Target the Brutes and get them broken up. I don’t want to fight the back.”

“Hear you loud and clear.”

114 went quiet on his end but didn’t mute.

Progress.

Then he turned to the scene at hand to plan the best way forward.

“On your count, 114. You take the lead. We’ll pick off the stragglers.”

“Going loud in three.”

Cobb looked down his scope and breathed in deeply and watched as 114’s first shot landed and struck a brute dead.

“Keep them clear from the hostages,” Cobb said. “I don’t want them taking them anywhere else. Issa, Jo, on me. We’re moving.”

They moved in as a unit before breaking and posting up at the windows that lead into the building they were infiltrating, most of which were broken. Once Cobb had a clear line of sight, he opened fire.

The darkness gave them a natural cover, and with their spread position, the enemy had no idea where they were. They kept the Brutes at bay away from the hostages where they were pressed flat on the floor to cover from the spray of bullets and plasma. For the time being, they had the upper hand until the Brute Chieftain roared and pointed in their direction.

“They’re coming out! Heads up!” Cobb said.

First the Grunts and then the few remaining Jakals which were picked off with deadly precision until the Chieftain himself charged out with his hammer swinging in Jo’s direction.

Cobb stood up from his cover and peppered the Chieftain’s back with bursts of rounds until he turned on Cobb and came in his direction.

“Cobb!” He heard Jo’s concern over the radio, but it was too late.

He rolled and dropped to avoid the Chieftain’s hammer as it discharged a burst that affected the CPU components in Cobb’s armour. But then the Chieftain swung again and the force of it sent him to his back, momentarily stunned before the Chieftain swung the weapon around, showing the sharp edge on the other side of the weapon head before crashing it down on Cobb’s chestplate.

The chestplate cracked under the pressure, and Cobb felt a burst of pain before the force drove the air from his lungs and he laid there, prone and stunned.

His ears were ringing, and he gasped like a fish which only made the wound worse until spots clouded his vision and he blacked out.

He blinked and saw the Chieftain’s armour cracked by an armour piercing round from a sniper.

He blinked again and saw Issa and Jo corner the Chieftain before a second round struck his back before a third struck his neck and he began to tumble.

He blinked and lost sight of what was before him.

…

“Cobb? Cobb.”

“Sarge, lift your right hand if you’re awake.”

“Is he okay?”

“We need to get the hammer out. His lungs could be damaged.”

“I’ll handle that. Hold him steady.”

Pressure on his shoulders, gently so before a wrenching and—

He gasped and coughed, felt pain radiating out from his chest and he tried to raise his hands to cover it, but he was held down gently.

“Spartan, there’s biofoam at his hip.”

“Got it.”

He heard the sound of an aerosol can being applied to his chest before the pressure on his lungs was abated and he could take a deep breath and relax.

“You there, Sarge?”

He nodded and tried to reach back and pat for Issa’s hands.

“Chestplate is cracked,” he heard 114 say. “The biofoam will hold for a few hours, but he needs medical attention.”

“I’ll get to the hostages,” Issa said.

“Evac point is over the bridge,” Jo said. “I’ll post up with Issa and get the hostages to safety. You good with the Sarge?”

“Just fine.”

Then he felt himself being lifted from the ground and cradled close to someone’s chest.

“Hey, Spartan,” he mumbled.

“That was damn reckless. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Knew you were watchin’.”

He heard 114 sigh. “Keep your words to yourself, Vanth. This fight isn’t over yet.”

…

He had heavy bruising to his chest and a hairline fracture in his sternum. He was on bedrest for a least a month with another month of light duty. He was lucky his lungs weren’t pierced.

Regardless, he had the luxury of his own private room in an actual hospital and not just a field tent. He was on some medical grade painkillers, and his team was being commended for their bravery. All around successful.

But now with this free time, he intended to do some research—never could abide stagnation for long. He pulled up a datapad and using his UNSC credentials, managed to get into the databases of every active soldier on the ground. He searched for Spartan A114, and as he suspected, he was given a lot of redacted material.

The Spartan III program was still tightly under wraps, but parts of it were being declassified, and through the grapevine, Cobb knew they were different from the old Spartan IIs.

Not as good training facilities. Not as good outcomes or survival rates.

He saw the name ‘Reach’ in 114’s file and knew if the Spartan had survived the planet’s destruction, he was a survivor to reckon with, and also why he didn’t have a fireteam of his own. He probably lost them all in the fray.

Everything else including personal details like date of birth, home planet, and name were redacted, so there wasn’t much else he could look into for the time being. But he did file a request to have 114 placed permanently on his team. He wanted to keep the Spartan close.

…

Friends and teammates would come by and visit him. Issa and Jo in pairs, but then one strange visitor came: a very, very tall man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a neatly kept moustache.

“This seat taken?”

He’d heard that voice of his helmet dozens of times, and Cobb looked at him and couldn’t believe his eyes, that he was seeing the Spartan—his Spartan—out of his armour.

Cobb waved his hand to the chair and pushed a button to have his bed elevated so he could face 114 head on.

It was almost comical to see 114 sit down in a chair not meant for someone of his size, but he made it work. He was dressed in a uniform and not standard military fatigues. There were metals pinned to the beast pocket, and Cobb could see what many of them meant.

“Ceremony?” Cobb asked.

“No. Meeting. I heard you put in a request for me to be made a permanent member of your squad.”

“Well. I liked you. Felt we fought well together eventually. We could use another on our team.”

“I’m surprised you’ve been managing well with only the three of you.”

“Used to be four, but I sacked the other guy.” Cobb shook his head at the memory of Toro and his hot-headed ways. The kid was lucky he hadn’t lost his head if Cobb hadn’t pulled him back time and time again.

“How are you holding up?” 114 asked, eyes drifting to Cobb’s chest and how its swathed with bandage and gauze.

“Eh. Could be worse. Chestplate took the brunt of it though.”

“That’s what it’s for.” 114 breathed in deeply, licked his lips, and looked down at his hands. “It’s . . . it’s good to see you. That you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I barely had my sights on him.”

“Hey, Spartan. Look at me.”

He looked up, and Cobb was struck with how upset 114 looked. Upset in almost a sad way.

“I’m here. You killed the Brutes. Hostages made it out. That is a hundred-percent in my books.”

“Still, I . . .” He breathed in, a shuddering breath. “I don’t like watching from afar when my teammates are in the direct line of fire. It makes me feel . . .”

“Like you can’t protect us.”

114 said nothing.

“Listen,” Cobb said. “We can discuss this. Figure out new strategies. My team, we’re new at this. We’ve worked alongside only a handful of Spartans but not directly with one. We’ll figure it out, see what works for the both of us. But I’m not tolerating Lone Wolf shit. We’re a team.”

114 nodded.

“You good, soldier?”

114 raised his head. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Cobb smirked. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Satisfied with that answer, 114 stood and prepared to leave but just before he could get to the door, Cobb called out, “Hey, Spartan. You got a name to add to the A114?”

The Spartan turned to look at him, pulling open the door as he did, and after a moment of hesitation, he said, “Din.”

“Nice to have you, Din. Rest up if you can.”

“Yes, sir.”