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This article, Halo: Lights in The Sky, was written by Stockholm300. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.

Kyle sat on the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side. The cold rain pounded the city, or at least what was left of it. The skeletons of buildings were all that remained. Bodies were strewn across the street, their blood mixing with the rain. Red rivers ran into the gutters, feeding the parasites and scavengers of the sewers.

Kyle's raven black hair stuck to the sides of his head, as the rain soaked him to the bone. Nothing left...I have nothing left he thought. He walked back to the rooftop access of the building and went back to the streets to wander. He weaved between the bodies, stepping over the rivers of blood. It was quiet, except for the rain. He saw his friend James, his dog Berkeley, his mother Serah. He looked to the left of the street, and saw his sister Amelia. He small body curled up in a ball, a small teddy bear still clutched between her fingers.

Kyle was on shore leave, his first in 5 years. When he had left, Amelia was only 2 years old, Berkeley still a puppy, and his mother depressed. He did it for her, to help his mother. He had his pay sent to his mother, it was good pay, it allowed his mother and sister a decent apartment in the upper east side, a nice place to live. Hearing a ruckus, Kyle dove behind a nearby dumpster. A lonely, ragged dog came sniffing out of the alley across the street. It started to sniff a body and whine, after 5 minutes of trying to wake it's master it lay it's head on the body and lay.

He continued walking along the streets, walking without purpose or destination. Maybe he walked to forget...or maybe he walked to eventually run into the monsters that did this. Soon growing tired, Kyle found a cafe with the fewest bodies in it and laid down to rest.

Kyle sprinted forward, the tumult of battle surrounding him. A nearby Brute swung at him with the blades on it's spike rifle, he rolled to the side and stabbed his combat knife into it's thick thigh. The Brute seemed to laugh at him and stabbed downward at him. The blades ripped through his armor and into the flesh of his shoulder, the burning pain almost overwhelmed him. He fought though, he fought against unconsciousness. He brought up his assault rifle and sprayed it into the face of the attacker. Blood sprayed across his face as the rounds tore it's face to shreds. It fell back, it's face a pulpy mess. Kyle heard a familiar voice over the radio...the voice of his sergeant, commanding him to retreat. Grabbing his wound, He ran back towards the rally point set on his TacMap...

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