The rain had finally let up, leaving the Covenant-occupied city slick and gleaming under the sickly green glow of alien streetlights. Lieutenant Kogen surveyed the target building through his visor's thermal overlay. The old city hall, now a Covenant command post, pulsed with heat signatures. Their objective: a high-ranking Covenant Prelate, coordinating attacks on a nearby human resistance cell.

"Alright, team," Koger's voice was a low rasp over the comms. "Two Grunt patrols on the main street, rotating every three minutes—we eliminated one. Elite Zealot on the rooftop, stationary. We go in from the west, through the service tunnels."

Shadow, the team's demolitions expert, a silent wraith in the urban decay, nodded. "Tunnels are clear on my scan, Wraith. Structural integrity is. . . questionable."

"Nothing we haven't seen before," Viper, the team's designated marksman, chimed in, her suppressed sniper rifle slung expertly across her back. "Just keep us out of sight, Lieu."

Ghost nodded in agreement. "Besides, Shadow's big ass would cover us."

Shadow squared himself with Ghost. He fainted a punch towards him, but stopped himself before it got out of hand, then made a V shape with his fingers to let Ghost know he had his eyes on him.

They moved through the skeletal remains of apartment blocks, their specialized armor absorbing every rustle, every scrape. The city air hung heavy with the scent of ozone and the acrid tang of Covenant waste. They slipped into the dark maw of a collapsed subway entrance, the air immediately growing colder, thicker with the smell of damp earth and stale metal.

Inside, the tunnels were a maze of twisted tracks and crumbling concrete. Wraith led the way. His helmet-mounted light cut a narrow beam through the oppressive darkness. They moved past the husks of forgotten trains. The drip of water and their own measured breathing broke the silence.

Suddenly Wraith froze. He raised a gloved fist. "Contact. Two Jackals, up ahead."

Ghost drew a combat knife, its blade reflecting the faint glow from Wraith's visor. Viper prepped her sidearm, a silenced M6G Magnum. They fanned out, pressing themselves against the grimy walls. The Jackals' chittering voices grew louder, their plasma shields flickering erratically as they advanced.

As the first Jackal rounded a bend, Ghost moved. A swift, brutal cut to the throat, and the alien dropped, its plasma shield dissipating with a soft hiss. Before the second could react, Viper's Magnum barked once, a suppressed cough, and the Jackal crumpled. No alarms sounded. Just the lingering scent of ozone.

They continued. The silence once more their cloak. They emerged into the city hall's sub-basement, a forgotten maintenance level. Up above, they could hear the heavy thud of Sangheili boots and the high-pitched chatter of Grunts.

"Target is three floors up, central command room," Wraith whispered. "Viper, you've got the overwatch from the south wing. Shadow, Ghost, you're with me, breaching the access shaft."

Viper ascended a service ladder, her movements precise and soundless. Ghost and Shadow located a maintenance shaft as Wraith was close behind. Its rusted grate groaning as Shadow meticulously pried it open. They climbed, hand over hand, the shaft a tight, claustrophobic squeeze.

Reaching the top, they found themselves in a ventilation duct. Through the grate, they could see into the Prelate's command room. The hulking alien stood before a holographic display, issuing orders to a gathering of other high-ranking Covenant.

This was their chance.

Shadow carefully positioned a shaped charge on the grate. With a silent nod from Wraith, he activated it. The detonation was barely a whisper, absorbed by the ductwork, but the grate blew inward with surgical precision.

As the smoke cleared, Wraith was already through. His SMG spitting silenced bursts. The room erupted into chaos. Ghost swept the side of the room, bursting his SMG. Shadow followed, tossing a single, perfectly placed flashbang. The room exploded with blinding light and deafening pop.

When the light faded, Wraith was already engaging the Prelate's stunned bodyguards, his movements a blur of controlled aggression. Viper, from her distant perch, picked off reinforcements as they rushed to aid their fallen comrades. Ghost, meanwhile, sprinted directly for the Prelate, who, despite being disoriented, was reaching for a hidden blade.

Ghost's knife gleamed in the dim light. The Prelate never saw it coming.

Within seconds, the command room was silent, save for the hum of the alien technology and the heavy breathing of the ODSTs. They hadn't fired a single loud shot, hadn't triggered a single alarm. The assassination was complete.

"Move out," Wraith commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "Extraction point is two clicks east. Let's make sure the Covenant spend the next few hours wondering what hit them."

They vanished back into the city's shattered labyrinth, leaving behind only the cold, silent truth of their visit. Though the city might remain occupied, a phantom strike delivered a message.