Ight, we're gonna be fighting a war in this one. Much action ahead, a lot of killing, some more killing and... even more killing (it's free real estate) and the arrival to earth (fucking finally, you guys have no idea how long I have waited to get to this point)

Mark was collecting his equipment.

This was going to be a full blown out battle, and his usual hunting gear just wouldn't be enough for this occasion.

He had never thought that he would ever need to use it, but it was time to switch gear.

This time, his awu'asa encompassed the entirety of his body, covering head to toe in armor, not leaving an inch of his exposed.

Even his joints were covered in scaled fibers of acid proof steel. His gauntlets were now equipped with power fists, for increased damage in his blows.

He had slotted out his plasma casters, adopting instead the heavy duty ones, which held much more firepower.

Still, that did not mean that brought other, less powerful gear.

This set of awu'asa was equipped with specific slots that were meant to store numerous shurikens, combisticks, retractable blades and many other gadgets such as explosives, mines, laser mines, healing stims and smart disks.

And better yet, he would still remain nearly a light and agile as he previously was. This was war, and he would be damned if he didn't come prepared.

The cloaking would help, and thanks to all of the data that he had stolen, he could also theoretically disable the enemy equipment on the spot, whether it be by short circuiting it or downright making it malfunction.

This was still a fleet that they were talking about, and he would not be able to take them all out on his own.

The best that he could do was to try to hold them off and stall them for as long as possible and hope that reinforcements arrived.

Mark prayed that he would be able to disable the enemy ships from having the capability of performing an orbital bombardment, but that was still a wild coin toss.

The matrons would not be pleased with his interference, especially now that he had basically forced their hand into acting. But everything was going to hell and it did not matter anyways, for the Hish had revealed themselves, so it mattered not if humanity knew that there was other, sentient life out there.

He just hoped that he would be capable of protecting his home, lord be good. Even if it meant losing all of his honor and being exiled as a bad blood.

The hybrid also prepped the ship with its weapon systems, already placing the automatic controls so that it would target other enemy ships.

It was in that moment that he received the call.

He opened it up, and came face to face with Kyiv, he was furious: "In the name of Lilka, have you gone insane?!" he too was dressed in heavy armor, and by the looks of it, he was in his own ship.

Mark remained impassive, "Kyiv- "No Mark! You have gone too far! This is not what you were told to do! Why did you act so recklessly?!" he yelled at him, anger blazing in his golden eyes.

The elite hunter calmed his emotions, "Because I am out of time. I have no choice. I either fight or condemn my species to extinction." he answered him.

"Goodbye Kyiv, if this is the last time that we shall speak, then so be it. Thank you. For everything." he pressed the end button and closed the call.

Mark deeply sighed, and took out the small bottle that contained his relaxant pills. He took the all.

He would have to be at his very best for what was to come...

This could very well be his last hunt...

There were hundreds of ships, all floating around Earth's atmosphere, and Earth... his breath hitched when he saw it again in over a century...

It was so beautiful, with its deep blue seas, and lush green continents...

But that would all be taken away if he didn't act.

Mark ordered the ship to perform a planetary scan, and immediate reports of battle came in.

There were over a dozen of invasion points... he could not stop the hish all alone, he would have to play smart.

His computer also revealed to him that some of the larger capital ships possessed nuclear missiles, but he did not dare to activate them for fear of the radiation contaminating the planet.

What he did do was access their network, and shut down their weapon systems. That would keep them relatively harmless.

Then, he looked at the invasion sites. One of them was in the United States, Washington to be exact.

It was time to do it.

He broke through the communication radio of the White House. "Hello? Who is this?" he took in a deep breath, gathering his courage, "Greetings. I am speaking with the president of the United States, correct?" there was some silence on the other side, "Yes, who am I speaking to? There is an alien invasion currently attacking our world, and it is something that requires a lot of attention."

"I am a friend mr president. I've come to help. Now listen carefully, I have disabled the weapon systems of the enemies, they will be forced to attack on foot. Forward this information to the other world leaders, tell them to hunker down and use heavy firepower to combat the enemy, and tell them to wait... with luck help will come." there was more silence, uncertainty, "And... what will you do?"

"I will hunt."

The smart disk lopped off the head of yet another hish, automatically redirecting itself mid flight, targeting another enemy.

As for Mark, he was thick in the fighting, twirling around and muscling his way through rows of enemies. Behind him, a few marines assisted him, shooting their light plasma guns from a distance and trying to alleviate the pressure that he was put on.

Mark would try his best to maneuver the many hish into tight formations, so that he could then unleash his devastating plasma casters.

He was tired, and sweaty, his previously gray armor was blackened with the explosions, burns and marks from dueling.

The elite hunter was trying his very best, taking out dozens and dozens of enemies at a time, helped by his advanced equipment, but he could only do so much, and the death toll was still rising.

He grunted as wrist blade scratched his armored head, and tried to block the incoming strikes. But some attack inevitably got through, and he was being hit more often than not.

Mark rolled out of the way as a plasma bolt barely missed him, but could not evade the second one and it caught him straight in the chest, launching him backwards.

He gasped as his body broke through a concrete wall, he staggered back up to his feet and chucked a mine at the incoming group. They were blasted away to hell.

He injected himself with a stim, sighing as the healing tool did its intended job. He was out. And so were his shurikens and spears. All of his knifes had either been broken or simply lost to the battle.

A couple of his ribs were broken, he could feel it every time he breathed.

Mark had managed to successfully lead a counteroffensive attack, and had pushed back the hish to the point of near retreat.

Luckily, he managed to guide the marines, even if they were weary of him. One came up to him, "Sir! Sir, are you alright?" he coughed, staggering out of the building. "Yes. Go press forward on the Potomac. Give them hell soldier."

He had acted as the tank, soaking up damage and drawing attention to himself so that the army could snipe the hish from far away, and unleash missile barrages.

But Mark was at his limit, he could not go on for much longer. He hoped to whatever deity out there that Kyiv arrived. They needed help, and soon.

Mark did not now for how long he could stall the invasion. His ship might have very well been destroyed... all of those good trophies gone to waste...

Still, he ran forward, targeting the approaching enemies with his plasma casters.

He could only hear gunfire and sound of his own strikes, and that of those that hit him.

He shouted in pain as he was stabbed through the leg; the damaged armor had finally giving in.

With a roar, he charged up his gauntlet and punched the offending flicker away, obliterating his head.

Another one came and he proceeded to do the same.

Mark charged forward, limping a bit as he did, his body running on the last reserves of his energy. He was out of adrenaline boosters, he was on his last legs.

The elite hunter screamed in rage as he clubbed his foes to death, but no matter how many he felled, more would keep coming.

And then... a sharp, agonizing pain stabbed through his back...

Mark coughed out blood as he looked down to see his own sword jutting out from his abdomen. Yelling in pain, he whirled around and bashed the head of the attacker to mush.

He keeled over, still coughing out blood. The hunter took off his mask, struggling to breath.

"Protect him!" he heard shouts from around him, someone was trying to move him away, to carry him away.

"Take.." he coughed, "Take... it out..." he wheezed out. After some time, the katana was removed. And Mark groaned, struggling to get up. A soldier was next to him, trying to haul him up, "Come on! We have to get out of here!" he saw a hish lunge at him, and he moved forward, raising his gauntlet to block the strike, and he stabbed his blade into the others stomach, driving it out to his side and spilling out his guts.

Mark shakily got back up, his heart was pounding, he saw more enemies approaching, and he moved towards them, struggling to perform each strike as pain flared all over him.

He was cut and hit more and more times. He was bleeding, his blood was on the blade.

And then, when he was nearly about to pass out, a spear pierced through the closest hish. And then a barrage of plasma casters came.

The roars of several hunters resounded in his ears, and the full might of the Fire Skull clan clashed into the hish. Mark struggled to stay upright, digging his katana into the ground and supporting himself with it.

He saw the noble arbitrators, the upholders of the code of honor charge and break through the enemy lines. He saw the elders with their red capes, slaughter the hish, as did the elites and ancients. The clans had come... the invasion could be stopped, the war could be won...

Slowly, Mark got back up as well, and he too charged

into the fray.

He stood in front of the White House, soldiers were moving, as were tanks, helicopters and jets. All of them were much more futuristic compared to the ones that he had known.

The humans looked at the yautja with distrust, but were ignored as the hunters gathered the corpses and technology of the hish.

"Mr... how may I call you?" he looked to see the president in front of him, holding his hand out. Tenderly, Mark gave him a handshake. "Mark Johnson, former navy seal." the president looked to be shocked.

Mark noticed a certain elite arbitrator make his way to him, so he quickly ended the conversation, "I know that you have many questions, but let the global union, or whatever his call know that in due time, there could be an alliance. Until then I ask you to please refrain from antagonizing our friends here. Please, I will come back to help you."

He turned to Kyiv. He too was covered in blood, but not his own, luckily. He spoke to him in yautjan, so only he would be able to understand him, "Mark, the invasion has been stopped."

His posture stiffened, as his voice turned more rigid, "Under the decree of the council of matriarchs, you are to be apprehended and held in custody to face trial for having broken your restrictions."

And done.

I hope I did the action justice, and I hoped I further pleased you guys. Please vote and leave comments, tell me about your opinions and theories for the future.