With practiced efficiency, the team moved, slipping through the shattered remnants of what was once a grand boulevard. The adrenaline of the successful assassination was still thrumming, a dangerous current under their disciplined movements. Rain fell to a persistent drizzle, but the streets were still a black mirror, reflecting the ominous glow of distant Covenant structures. Their route was supposed to be clear, intel reporting thin patrols in this sector. 

That's when it almost went wrong.

As they approached the skeletal remains of a collapsed bridge, Wraith's comm crackled. "Multiple signatures—closing fast!" Viper's warning was sharp, devoid of her usual calm. "Brutes! And. . . a Hunter pair!"

A cold dread settled in Wraith's gut. Brutes were bad enough—brutal, unpredictable, and surprisingly quick. Hunters were a nightmare in close quarters, their sheer bulk and plasma cannons devastating. This wasn't a standard patrol; this was a response force, too coordinated for a mere coincidence. They discovered the Prelate's death far sooner than anticipated.

"Form up! Perimeter!" Wraith barked, his voice low but urgent.

Ghost, already moving, melted into the deep shadow of a twisted billboard, his suppressed SMG ready. Ghost, ever vigilant, scanned the rooftops and flanking alleys, his visor picking up the heavy thud of approaching Brutes. Viper dropped to a knee behind a gutted Warthog, her sniper rifle already finding purchase on the cracked windshield, though a sniper was ill-suited for this kind of close-quarters melee.

The first Brutes emerged from the gloom, their armored forms massive and menacing, gravity hammers sparking. Behind them, the hulking silhouettes of two Hunters, their plasma cannons already beginning to glow. The air thickened with the snarls of the Brutes and the high-pitched whine of charging plasma.

"Hold your fire!" Wraith commanded, even as the Brutes closed to within spitting distance. Their priority was stealth, breaking contact, not engaging a full heavy assault.

But the Hunters were faster than expected. One of them unleashed a torrent of green plasma, narrowly missing Ghost, who scrambled behind a shattered bus. The sheer concussive force rattled the street.

"They've got our general position!" Viper yelled, laying down a burst of suppressive fire with her sidearm, targeting the Brutes' unarmored joints.

That's when Ghost moved. With a guttural roar, a Brute charged, its hammer raised high. Ghost, emerging from the darkness like a phantom, drove his combat knife deep into its neck, leveraging its own momentum to bring it crashing down with a sickening thud. Before its partner could react, Ghost was already vanishing back into the shadows, leaving a confused, enraged Brute searching frantically.

"Shadow, smoke!" Wraith ordered.

A moment later, two smoke grenades hissed, erupting in thick, white plumes that rapidly enveloped the bridge, obscuring the ODSTs' retreat. The Brutes roared in frustration, firing blindly into the haze. But the Hunters were not so easily deterred. One of them charged directly into the smoke, its glowing cannon a beacon in the swirling white. It was heading straight for their escape vector.

"Viper, target the Hunter's fuel cell! Top right!" Shadow yelled, his voice strained.

Viper, adjusting her scope in the swirling smoke, found the narrow target. A single, precise shot. The round found its mark, and with a muffled THUMP, the Hunter's internal fuel cell detonated, sending a shower of green sparks and armor fragments into the smoke. The other Hunter paused, confused by its partner's sudden demise.

"Move! Now!" Wraith bellowed, leading the charge through a narrow gap between two collapsed buildings.

They burst out onto a less damaged street, the extraction LZ now agonizingly close. But as they sprinted, the sky overhead blossomed with an angry red light. A Covenant dropship, a Spirit, was descending, its engines roaring, disgorging more Brutes and Grunts directly onto their extraction point.

"Contact at LZ! Heavy reinforcements!" Viper cursed, sliding to a halt.

Wraith didn't hesitate. "New plan! Diversion! Shadow, you're up! Ghost, cover Viper! I'm going for the Spirit."

Without a word, Shadow detached two more grenades, pulled the pins, and hurled them towards the dropship. They weren't frag grenades, but EMP charges designed for temporarily scrambling Covenant tech. The Spirit shuddered, its engines sputtering, momentarily freezing its deployment.

That was the window. Wraith, now abandoning all pretense of stealth, launched himself at the nearest Brute, engaging it in brutal, close-quarters combat. Ghost laid down suppressing fire, allowing Viper to take aim at the pilot of the struggling Spirit.

Viper's first shot missed, but the second found the cockpit. The Spirit spiraled out of control, crashing into a nearby building with a deafening explosion that shook the entire block. The remaining Brutes, disoriented by the crash and the loss of their air support, hesitated. That was all the ODSTs needed. They sprinted, leaving the stunned and enraged Covenant forces behind, the sound of their heavy boots now a desperate, driving rhythm.

They reached their designated extraction point just as the Pelican, a dark silhouette against the pre-dawn sky, descended through the lingering smoke. They scrambled aboard. The ramp hissing up behind them just as the first plasma bolts from the recovering Covenant force scorched the ground where they had stood moments before.

Inside the Pelican, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, and a silent, hard-won victory. Bruised and battered, they were alive, though their stealth was thoroughly compromised. And the Prelate was dead. Split-second decisions and the unbreakable bond of a team pushed to its absolute limits averted a near-catastrophe.