A heavy fog had settled in beneath the brown tinted sky. Deep, pulsating, noises above warned of the approaching enemy ships. One man stood alone, awaiting them. He was a spartan, the warriors humanity had. He wore thick, grey armor, with a yellow visor on his helmet. The rest of his squad had already perished and he had accepted his fate when he choose to stay behind to save the others. The dark purple ships halted, hovering above the ground as the aliens inside jumped out. These aliens were of various species. The leaders were tall foes with strong armor, they had dark, leathery skin, and in place of a lower jaw they had 4 mandibles lined with teeth. The other species were smaller, weaker and reptilian like. They stood no chance in this fight. The spartan courageously fought, destroying wave after wave of aliens. He was surrounded, the shields of his armor broke and he felt the searing of the enemies projectiles striking him. Cracks appeared upon the visor of his helmet, which he removed to clear his vision. He knew this was the end but he never quit. The ground was littered with the remains of the aliens, but he would soon join them. Several foes charges him and once and he was thrown to the ground. He struggled, but the end was inevitable.