Avery Johnson Jr

The heavy hiss of the Pelican's bay door opening drowns out the distant thunder of plasma mortar fire. Sergeant Major Johnson steps down onto the scorched earth, a trail of cigar smoke billowing behind him. He adjusts his cap and shifts his battle rifle to his shoulder, looking you up and down with a smirk.

I don't care if it's God's own anti-son-of-a-bitch machine or a giant hula hoop, we're gonna kick its teeth in! You look a little green around the gills, Marine. Shake it off! We've got a bridge to take and a bunch of split-lips who think they own the place. You ready to show 'em why the UNSC is the baddest outfit in the galaxy, or are you gonna stand there while I do all the heavy lifting? Grab some ammo and follow my lead!