Halo: Warborn/Book One

==Prologue==
“Mom, what’s happening?”
 
A distraught blonde-haired woman, carrying her scared, young boy, ran through the crowds of equally-terrified citizens, as the pristine city streets were rained upon by searing blue and green plasma bolts from the sky. Purple, bulbous alien aircraft swarmed the skies above, like hungry vultures looking for their next meal. In front of the woman, the white city tram station pavilion, already filled with dozens upon dozens of frightened Arcadian citizens, came into view, and she quickly hastened her steps.
 
Local Arcadian police officers and a gaggle of volunteers were scurrying around the tram station, frantically checking and loading their pistols and shotguns, turning over vending machines and metal benches to make barricades guarding the station’s entranceway. One of these officers, a blonde-haired man wearing a tactical vest that he borrowed from their local SWAT unit, waved down the woman and her child. She quickly ran to him, quickly embracing him with a one-armed hug as she held her son.
 
“Glenn, thank god. There are so many of them, and they are right behind us. What do we do? They are flying all around us. I do not know how we will be able to-." Glenn held her head with both hands, kissing her forehead to try to comfort her.
 
“Listen, just be calm, Claudia. There are evacuations underway at the Pirth Spaceports; this train will take you to them,” Glenn said as he held his wife and son close to him.
 
“What about you, Glenn?” asked Claudia with dread in her eyes.
 
“I’ve got to stay and buy you some time to get off the planet. Don’t worry, I will be right behind you two, I will get on the last train out,” replied Glenn.
 
“No, please, Glenn, we need you.”
 
“You will be fine, I’ll meet you later,” said Glenn as he kissed her one more time. He turned his gaze to his son, who was clearly confused and frightened at what was going on.
 
“Alright, scamp. You are going to be the one that takes care of mother until I get back. Don’t worry, Daddy will be right behind you two,” Glenn stated as he held his son’s cheek.
 
The young boy slightly nodded in response.
 
“Good boy. I love you, Ryne.”
 
With the sounds of explosions and plasma fire getting closer, Glenn ushered his wife and son into the pavilion, and began helping the officers barricade the entranceway. Ryne looked back over her mother’s shoulder, as Claudia approached the descending escalator leading down into the underground bullet train station. Rhne watched his father watch them leave, with his rugged face disappearing from view as they climbed down the stairs.
 
Running down the escalator into the subway station, dozens upon dozens of human citizens stumbled over themselves in sheer panic and fear. Ryne could see some were covered with blood and wounds, while others were carrying the wounded and dying. The high-powered train bolted into view, as the white doors slid open, panicked men and women rushed in, stuffing themselves inside the train car.
 
Amidst the shoving and panic, Claudia and Ryne found their way in before the doors slid shut. Ryne could see the scared and panicked faces outside, some adults and some children that could not make it in, as they banged on glass doors and windows, pleading and begging to be let in. The train departed and exited the tunnel from the station, where Ryne and his mother worriedly watched purple aircraft descend upon the station and the city behind them. Before the station faded from their view, large explosions could be seen coming from the station.
 
Claudia turned her son away, and instead sat him down, and looked into his eyes, trying to fight back the tears. “Alright, honey. We are almost there. Just be a brave trooper. For Dad, okay?” Ryne once again nodded approvingly, and his mother brought him in for a hug.
 
For several minutes, the monorail train zipped through the city railways, with the gunfire being heard and blue streaks rushing past them. The winged purple aircraft zipped above them like flies and trailed them until the train disappeared into another tunnel. Soon enough, the train arrived at its station on Pirth, where more Arcadian patrol officers awaited, directing them and barking out orders to move.
 
Claudia, holding Ryne, and the scared Arcadians rushed outside to a scene of horror. With his mother holding him close, Ryne could see a city filled with plasma-scarred buildings and burning structures. The purplish, sleek winged alien vehicles flew over the terrified citizens. What lay in front of them was a city under siege. All of a sudden, a combination of large, split-jawed aliens, bird-like aliens with glowing shields on their arms, and smaller, bulldog-faced aliens emerged in front of them over the horizon and were charging towards the station entranceway, firing blue and green plasma bolts from their alien weaponry. 
 
The Arcadian Patrolmen, taking positions in their watch towers and barricades surrounding the station, fired back, trying to protect the civilians. However, their feeble pistols and shotguns could not hold back the horde of alien invaders. Plasma fire rained down on them, and large, split-jawed creatures attacked the subway with glowing blades, cutting down the outmatched and scattered Arcadian fighters and defenseless citizens. Finding cover behind a bench, Claudia and Ryne could only watch helplessly as the horde of alien invaders bore down on them.
 
Suddenly, a large, green airship, followed by smaller winged air vehicles, arrived and dropped a similarly colored ground vehicle mounted with a large cannon onto their grassy patch next to the besieged train station. These green, human vehicles charged in to defend the civilians and began dispatching the alien attackers.
 
Using this opening, Claudia and a few civilians were able to navigate through the chaos, dodging alien fire and staying close to their protectors, as they found themselves rushing to one of the three Cargo transports waiting for them on the landing pads of the Spaceport. Suddenly, one of the Cargo ships starts lifting off, but winged, purple aircraft swoop over the ship. Blue projectiles hit the ship, which hit the ship’s engines. The transport violently explodes, splitting into two as it crashes back down.
 
After witnessing the destruction of the ship, Claudia and Ryne turned back around to make their way to the next Cargo ship at a nearby landing pad. They did not get far, as they were confronted by a large split-jawed creature armed with a glowing blade, with a pair of the bird-like creatures carrying shields and pistol-like weapons at their sides.
 
Claudia, putting Ryne down and moving him behind her, began to plead with alien warriors.
 
“Please, don’t hurt us. We have done nothing!” screamed Claudia, as she continued to hover in front of Ryne.
 
The split-jawed alien, with scars along his face, moved towards her, towering over both Claudia and Ryne. The alien, in a deep, gravelly growl, uttered indiscernible alien words to Claudia, and then grabbed her throat. Ryne tried to pull her down but he ended up falling to the ground as her mother was lifted in the air.
 
“Ryne, I love you-” were the last tearful words that came out of Claudia, as the hulking alien warrior thrusted his blade through her body. A limp Claudia crumpled to the ground, with her vacant eyes staring back at Ryne’s terrified face.
 
Ryne looked up to see the split-jaw approach him, his energy blade close to his side. Soon, the horrifying avian-like aliens drew closer to him on both sides. Ryne looked at his mother’s killer, staring into its green eyes that were filled with hatred. As the split-jaw raised his blade, hails of bullets struck him and the two aliens at this side. The bird-like creatures fell limply to the ground, as the bullets penetrated their shields, while the split-jaw roared in anger, and ran off, disappearing from view.
 
Ryne looked behind, and saw human soldiers, some clad in green armor and others in black, rush to him. They fired on the aliens that surrounded, forcing them back. One of the black-armored soldiers picked Ryne up, carrying him while firing his pistol in his free hand. Ryne looked back over the soldier’s shoulder, and saw more aliens trailing behind them, more split-jaws and small bulldog-faced aliens chasing after the retreating humans.
 
Suddenly, a large, green armored soldier jumped in between them, brandishing a shotgun. Ryne watched as the green giant dispatched the aliens with ease, as the behemoth threw the split-jaws around like rag-dolls and blew the smaller alien grunts away with his weapon.
 
A Green Knight.
 
Suddenly, a large purple alien tank appeared, and Ryne watched as the Green Knight charged the tank and jumped the vehicle. The behemoth of a soldier ripped a sheet of metal off, exposing the driver, and proceeded to rip the split-jaw alien out of his seat. The giant then commandeered the purple alien tank and turned the vehicle against the alien invaders nearby, firing large, blue fireballs at them as the aliens retreated.
 
As the intense battle and burning buildings of Pirth City faded from his view, Ryne turned to see a giant ship in front of him, like the one that crashed before him. The black-armored soldier then quickly placed the child into the ship, gently shuffling him into the ship’s bay.
 
“You’re going to be okay, kid,” said the soldier. Ryne stared into the soldier’s blue visor, looking to see his face.
 
“Sergeant Contreras, Cargo One needs help!” yelled a smaller, tan-armored soldier that ran up to the ship alongside them.
 
The Sergeant nodded, and banged on the cargo ship as another batch of civilians climbed aboard. Several minutes later, the ship's doors closed, filled to the brim with scared and wounded Arcadians. Several seconds passed, and the Cargo ships began to lift off. The ships took off with rapid speed, exiting Arcadia’s atmosphere.
 
In the darkened hull of Cargo Two, in the midst of relieved and terrified civilians, young Ryne was in his own little corner of the darkened hull, sitting with his knees close to his chest and his eyes drawn to the floor. Tears fell to the metal floor, as Ryne’s fingernails sunk into the skin of his arms, and tiny streams of blood dripped as the skin broke. Thoughts race through Ryne's head, the images of his mother’s body flung by the monster, the eyes of that monster staring directly at him. A wave came over him, as his teeth grinded and the fingernails began to burrow into his forearms as the flashes of those images consumed him. There was only one thing he felt, it gave him warmth and assurance like the teddy bear he left behind on his bed back at Arcadia.
 
Rage. 
The flames flickered and sparks danced as the line of destroyed cargo trucks, Spade trucks, and civilian Warthogs blazed the dirt road winding through the mountainous terrain. Human bodies were scattered across the road, with plasma burns scarring their corpses. Large hooves stomped across the debris, as the eyes of a scared child watched carefully from his darkened hiding spot.
 
Underneath an overturned Spade truck, a little boy, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, laid on his belly and watched as the “monsters” walked and searched their scene of carnage. They trampled and scrounged the bodies for anything of use, and inspected their handiwork. Garbled alien language and cruel laughter could be heard, as the boy tried to keep as quiet as he could. A couple of smaller bulldog-faced aliens, wearing orange armor, walked close to the overturned Spade, and started scavenging a human body nearby.
 
Suddenly, one of them started to sniff, as if he caught a whiff of food. The alien moved closer to the truck, as the boy slinked deeper into his hiding hole, pressing up on one of the seats. The feet of the alien were practically inches away, and then it began to crouch down to look underneath the Spade. As the alien’s curious eyes met the young boy, a loud crack boomed and the alien fell back to the ground, as purple blood seeped from the hole in its small head.
 
An exchange of rifle and plasma fire broke out, as the boy covered his ears and closed his eyes in terror. He wanted the noise to stop, he just wanted everything to stop. Almost as soon as it started, the volley of weapons fire stopped, and the boy slowly opened his eyes and moved to get a closer look outside.
 
The bodies of large split-jawed aliens, bird-like aliens, and the smaller, scrunch-faced aliens spread out on the road, while some bullet casings laid on the dirt floor. Sensing the coast was clear, the bloodied boy, in tattered clothing, crawled out from underneath, and stood amongst the carnage. All of a sudden, a large, bulky figure emerged from behind a burning cargo truck in front of the boy, and met the child’s gaze. The giant, green-armored soldier carefully approached him, sliding his rifle behind his back. The giant stuck out his hand, inviting the boy to take it.
 
The boy, with some hesitancy, slowly approached and grasped the hand. The hulking figure lifted the boy over his arm, and began to walk his way out of the burning remains of the destroyed convoy on the dirt road. With his free hand, the giant green soldier held his side arm, as he held the bloodied child close to him.
“Everything will be ok, kid.”
“Sergeant Contreras, Fourth Platoon needs reinforcements at Rally Point Echo”.
 
An Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, clad in his traditional black Battle-dress uniform but without his helmet, was observing the holo-table in front of him, as the blue 3-D images of a valley on the battle-scarred planet of Jericho VII was laid out before him. The tired, but focused eyes turned to the Marine before, showing his five o'clock shadow now more visible by the light emitting from the table.
 
“My squad will join them in a minute. Tell them reinforcements are on the way,” said Contreras as he picked up his helmet resting on the table, and walked out of the field tent, venturing out to go and gather his men.
 
The Sergeant began searching around the UNSC forward operating base situated in the grassy valley of the region. Troops and vehicles frantically rolling around, Pelicans resting on landing pads as they prepared to take off. Medical tents housing dozens upon dozens of wounded soldiers and civilians. It was a microcosm of how brutal the battle of Jericho VIII was. Contreras walked on by the scenes of suffering in the camp, as he searched and called for his men. He spotted one of them, leaning on the sandbags, taking a cigarette in his mouth.
 
“Callahan, put that shit out, and gather the squad, we’re needed at Echo,” barked Contreras, noticing the trooper rolled his eyes and threw his cigarette down and stamped on it in annoyance.
 
As Sergeant Contreras approached the supply tent for his weapons and gear, he noticed a hulking, green soldier enter the campgrounds, with a bloodied, frightened child in his arms. The Spartan walked to the medical tent, and gently handed the boy off to one of the medics. As the Spartan turned to leave, Contreras stood in front of him, looking up at the yellow visor glaring back at him.
 
“I take it the civie convoy is gone?”
 
“Yes, Sergeant” replied the Spartan in his typical stern, stoic voice. Contreras gritted his teeth in disappointment. The Spartan was sent out to escort a bunch of farmers, who foolishly thought they could ride out the invasion, from their settlements, but it seemed the Covenant had gotten to them first. “Alright, Green Team needs some support in defending Phase Line Bravo, go rejoin your team, my troopers and I will join you soon.”
 
The Spartan nodded in affirmation, as he lumbered past Contreras. The Sergeant watched as the Spartan exited the base grounds, with a squad from ODSTs following close behind. The large-green figure and a few Shock Troopers disappeared into the mist of the valley as they went over the nearby-hillock. Suddenly, the bloodied boy sitting on a table started crying as the medic tried to clean gash on his forehead.
 
“I know it hurts. Just hold on,” said the medic as she tried to calm the boy. However, he seemed already beside himself. The boy cried out questions such as, “where is my mom, my dad?” and “can you find them, do you know where they are?” The medic tried her best, but her pleas to calm down failed as the boy continued to wriggle and cry.
 
Contreras knelt down near the table, as he grabbed the boy’s attention.
 
“Hey, what’s your name?” asked Contreras.
 
“Del-, Delsin” replied the boy as he hiccupped his response.
 
“Delsin. Well, my soldiers and I are going to keep an eye out for your parents. Do you know where they went?” The boy nodded no, and began to cry again. Contreras reached out and held his hand.
 
“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, I am sure your parents will be fine. You are going to be OK, because you are a strong kid, and you need to stay strong for your parents. Right?”
 
Delsin nodded in affirmation, as the tears stopped flowing from his red eyes. He then noticed the medic move her hands from his head, not realizing that she had been cleaning and stapling the cuts on his head.
 
“Thanks, Sergeant,” said the medic as she moved on to other patients.
 
“See, a strong kid. Now, let’s take you to somewhere safe.” Contreras took Delsin in his arms, and he walked to one of the landing pads, where the Pelican dropship was readying to take off. The Sergeant climbed the stairs to the pad, and gently placed the kid in his seat at the ship’s bay, as he secured and tightened the seatbelt for him. Contreras shot him a smile before he exited the ship, where one of the Pilots met him outside to inquire about this “Plus One”.
 
“He is a kid we missed in the evacuations; take him with you to the cruiser. Understood?” The pilot nodded to affirm his order, as he entered the bay and into his cockpit. The doors shut the bay closed, where a loud hiss startled the scared boy as the ship prepared to travel into the space above.
 
As the Pelican took off, Delsin watched as the familiar blue skies of his home faded into the dark, starry void through the small window on the bay door. The Pelican rumbled and rattled as it hit some turbulence exiting the atmosphere, the clanging and banging of metal and steel hitting each other frightened Delsin. 
 
The boy started crying again.
 
 
The rain began to lessen in its downpour, as the neon lights and city skyscrapers brightened the night sky. Corporate logos and lettering in Kanji sprawled across many buildings and businesses, as the streets were crowded with people leaving from work or going out on the town. In a damp, dark alley, strewn with trash and restraint workers on smoke breaks, a small girl, adorned in tattered and dirty clothes was running, as her worn and torn splashed on the puddles in the alleyway, gripping a plastic grocery bag tightly in her left hand.
 
The young girl turned around to see that her pursuers were still giving chase, a group of angry teenage boys screaming for her head. The girl took a sharp right turn, and saw a fence in front of her. Beyond the fence was the busy markets where she could lose her pursuers. The chain-link fence was the only thing in her way. She jumped on the fence, and began to climb as quickly as she could. As she reached the top of the fence, she felt a violent tug on her jacket, and she found herself falling for what seemed like eternity. She fell hard, as her bag ripped open and the bread and fruits inside spilled out, being soaked and dirtied by the rain and street grime.
 
“Got ya runt. You think you could rob us, bitch?” yelled one of the boys, as the six seething teenagers surrounded her. The soaking wet girl closed her eyes and covered her head, knowing what was coming.
 
For the next few minutes, the small girl endured being stomped on, hit in the gut, and taking blows to the head from fists and kicks. She knew it was only going to get worse, as she watched from the one good eye that wasn’t swollen that one of the boys brought out a steel pipe and menacingly approached her writhing body.
 
“I think you have done enough. Leave her alone.” said an older man with slicked-back, silver hair glistened by the rain, and a trimmed beard, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The girl could see a man in suit, now soaking in rain as he laid his umbrella down.
 
“Screw off, this isn’t your concern.” replied the pipe-wielding teenager as he wound up swinging his pipe on the girl. However, before making contact with her, the man grabbed the pipe, ripping it from the young man. The teen boys turned their attention to their interloper, as they swarmed him for an attack.
 
However, it would be a grave error on their part.
 
Mustering up her strength, the girl sat up and watched as the man took down her attackers surgically, delivering devastating punches and kicks, and throwing them around like playthings. After a vicious elbow to the head of a teenage boy that knocked him out, there was only one boy left standing. In a panic, the lone teen raised his hands to surrender. He turned around, only to be met by a punch in the face by the bloodied and bruised girl, and he sank to the floor holding his face, blood dripping through his fingers.
 
“Ahh! My nose!” yelped the teenager as he gathered the strength to run away while holding his bleeding nose, leaving his five unconscious friends behind to sleep off their beating in the alleyway.
 
The man stepped over the bodies to reach the barely-standing young woman and examine her injuries. He took note of a bloodied mouth, swollen left eye, a noticeable limp, and a cut on her brow. However, she stood with hands raised in fists, readying to fight him. The man smirked; impressed that she was still ready and able to fight.
 
The man kneeled down, as he took a handkerchief to wipe some of the blood. The girl let her guard down, as she winced in pain from his gentle touch on her bruises. The man took off his suit jacket and placed it around the girl.
 
“Let’s get you looked at the clinic nearby,” said the man offering his hand. The girl hesitantly took it, as the two walked out the alleyway as the rain began to let up.
***
A gray-haired Japanese woman patiently sat on the tatami mat floor, food on their wooden table ready to eat. She had already put the children to sleep, and prepared the food for her husband. About an hour ago, she had gotten a video call that he was delayed on his way home, and would be bringing a guest. Therefore, she prepared food for two and waited patiently for their arrival.
 
Suddenly, the metal door gently slid open, revealing her husband and a small girl in ragged clothes covered in bandages. The woman stood up to greet her husband with a kiss, and then knelt down to the girl’s eyes. “I’m home, Mika, along with our guest.”
 
“Oh my goodness, you poor thing.” said the worried woman as she began to move the child to the living room.
 
“What’s her name, Hiroki?” asked the woman.
 
“Giulia.” Hiroki responded.
 
“Oh, what a beautiful name.”
 
Hiroki and Mika gently ushered Giulia to sit down at the small wooden table, where a hot meal of dumplings and chicken was ready and waiting for her. A curious Giulia looked around her surroundings, seeing wooden verandas, plants, and some white uniforms and black belts hung nearby. Mika and Hiroki watched intently, as she fiddled with her utensils.
 
“I’ll go get the silverware. Mika, why don’t you get her some fresh clothes for her to sleep in since she is staying the night?” said Hiroki as he left the small living room. Mika left the room, as Giulia sat silently staring at the food platter in front of her.
 
Hiroki and Mika returned to the room within minutes, carrying silverware and fresh clean clothes they borrowed from one of their daughters, currently sleeping in the adjacent room They were met by the sight of Giulia crying as she looked at the food, with tears streaming down her face,
 
Both Hiroki and Mika wore concerned looks, as Giulia looked up to them to utter two simple words to them.
 
“Thank you,” said Giulia with a smile and tears welling up in her eyes.
Giulia, in her hoodie and backpack slung over, was walking home, passing by the streets of her suburban neighborhood. She waved greetings at the usual faces she saw on her usual commute from school. The sun was slowly setting as the night approached, as Giulia thought about her kicking technique.
 
It had been two years since Hiroki and Mika took her in, and in those two years she had been the happiest she has ever been. They both took care of her, and treated her like she was part of the family. Both of them were also martial artists that owned a school to teach other locals. Giulia was trained and taught how to defend herself, and would train alongside her step siblings and other local kids. She showed a talent, evident by the gold medal hanging off her backpack with a big "1st" logo at the center. A medal she won in a Kumite competition a few weeks back.
 
Giulia’s thoughts suddenly shifted, as she thought about her study guide for her upcoming exam, and the cute boy with bulky glasses sitting next to her in class. Giulia was just enrolled in a public school, something she had never experienced in her time as a runaway orphan on the streets. An experience that she loved, the opportunity to learn new things and to meet new people.
 
As she walked along the sidewalk past several stores, Giulia noticed a pack of delinquent teenagers, wearing cheap vests and designer clothes, surrounding a couple kids with their backs to a store window from across the street. As she looked closer at the sce, Giulia recognized the teenagers as the same ones that were beating her down two years ago. It wasn’t the only thing that she noticed, as the two surrounding kids were Saya and Go, her two younger step siblings.
“I’ve been waiting for this, the old man is going to regret what he did to us back then. He won’t be able to recognize his brats after we’re through with you”, remarked the gang leader wearing cheap designer sunglasses and wielding a cheap baton, flashing a smug grin that showed a set of golden teeth. An approaching Giulia overheard that arrogant nasally voice, recognizing it as belonging to the same punk that was going to beat Giulia with a pipe in that dark alley back then. As the sneering teens slowly approached and surrounded the kids, Go put Saya behind him, ready to shield her at whatever price. The teenagers readied their fists as they walked and surrounded the two kids.
Suddenly, a flying kick crashed into the back of the head of one teen, knocking him out as his squared face crashed into the store window. The teenagers turned to see what happened, seeing Giulia staring them down, a fierce, fiery look in her eyes. The teen gang were caught off guard as they turned to focus on the angry girl before them, with their leader immediately recognized who it was that twas standing up to them.
“You? This is even better! I’m going to mess all three of you up so bad!”
The baton-wielding gangster charged Giulia, taking a wild swing that Giulia effortlessly dodged as she got behind him. As he turned, the teen left his torso wide open, allowing Giulia to land vicious jabs into his stomach and kidneys. The teen held his stomach pain, dropping his baton as he struggled to stand. Giulia approached him, as she twirled for a roundhouse kick that planted the teen’s face into the concrete below, where he laid face down and unconscious.
Giulia looked at the trio of stunned teens looking on, and went into her stance, motioning with a finger to attack her. “Anyone want to join him?” Giuilia said with a ruthless snare in her voice. 
The teens looked at each other, walking away, not viewing this as worth the hassle. Even if they did overwhelm Giulia, the girl would probably make them pay for their efforts. As the teens disappeared behind the next bend, Giulia relaxed herself, and rushed over to Go and Saya who watched in awe of their stepsister's technique. 
“You guys okay?” asked Giulia, kneeling down to siblings level.
“Yeah, thanks to you! You were awesome, Giulia!" Saya said with childlike glee. Go and Saya both ran to and hugged Giulia, squeezing her tightly. Giulia smiled, as she also held them tightly. Giulia looked over their shoulders, staring at a store window, noticing TV screens with moving and still images that caught her attention; images of fleeing citizens and large, bulbous purple ships raining down beams of light, the scrolling text showed headlines, such as “Covenant Glass Kholo”, “Thousands dead or missing”, and “UNSC forces suffer another setback, forces decimated.” 
Giulia’s happy expression turned dour, as she realized what was coming. The same aliens that destroyed her original family were coming and they would no doubt do the same to her adopted family. Giulia pulled back from the embrace, looking into Saya’s and Go’s happy faces, which triggered the images of her new family fleeing in terror as the light beams were about to consume them. “No, I’m not going to lose you like I lost my family.” Giulia thought to herself, as she held the kids hands as they began their walk home together.
“I'm not gonna lose it all again.”
==Part I: Training Day==
===Chapter 1===
Within the quiet, grimey military barracks, dozens upon dozens of children slept soundly as the light rain dripped on their windows. Laying in his sturdy bunk bed, a blonde-haired boy laid awake, as he gripped his sheets tightly. The young boy, with a fresh buzz cut from the day before, stared up the darkened light tubes on the ceiling above, waiting for them to blind his vision. The blonde-haired child could not sleep a wink, he was too anxious.
 
No, not anxious.
 
Excited.
 
The boy could hear the seconds tick away in his head, like the grandfather clock in his old family home in Arcadia. He just wanted to get up, and get started. Just a few weeks ago, he was nothing more than an orphan wasting away in some run-down orphanage in a backwater world called Luyten. Now, he was on some distant world residing in the barracks of a military facility, as he was about to become something new, something more.
 
The words of Lieutenant Ambrose, a man in the familiar-looking emerald armor that he saw on Arcadia, echoed in Ryne’s mind.
 
"I 'm going to give you a chance to learn how to fight, a chance to become the best soldiers the UNSC has ever produced, a chance to destroy the Covenant. I am giving you a chance to be like me: a Spartan.”
 
Laying in his bed, Ryne thought back to his first night on the planet, where he passed the “Night Jump” test. The task was simple. That night, hundreds of children that were also recruited were instructed to paradrop to the designated pickup location. Some of the kids would chicken out and wash out; others had to build up their courage to go through with the jump. However, a few did it without a second thought.
 
Ryne was one of those few.
 
Now, Ryne was about to become part of Humanity’s vanguard against the Covenant threat. He saw first-hand what a Spartan was capable of back on Arcadia, and he was determined to become one of them. This was the only way he could make those alien monsters pay for destroying his home, and for killing his mother. No matter the cost, he was going to make those monsters pay, as the memories of that horrific day flashed through Ryne’s mind.
All he wanted was to punish them.
 
“Wake up!”
 
Drill Sergeants ran into the barracks, as the overhead lights suddenly brightened the entire area. Kids fell out of their beds, some even being pulled out by the drill instructors and thrown into the steel floor.
 
“Get on the ready line, hurry up, hurry up!”
 
In the midst of yelling drill instructors and children running up the line between the rows of beds, Ryne quickly placed himself on the line, with other kids following him. After a couple minutes, all the kinds were at attention, in their sleepwear, standing in line, as the drill instructors surrounded them like sharks.
 
“Too fucking slow!” screamed a drill instructor as he whacked a random boy with a baton over his head.
 
“We’re going on a long-ass march, boys and girls. So, get in your PT gear, and assemble outside. Five minutes. Is that understood?”
 
“Yes, Drill Sergeant!” yelled the kids in unison.
 
The drill instructors left the barracks, as the kids began to change into their new clothes. Ryne quickly dressed himself, and he was one of the first outside. Other kids soon followed, as the drill instructors waited outside for them. When the five minutes were up, a few drill instructors went into the barracks to drag out the half-dressed, dazed kids who were still inside. Hundreds of kids were standing outside on the parade grounds, assembled in rows and at attention. The sun began to rise over Camp Currahee, their new home surrounded by the jungles of this new world the children found themselves in.
 
Ryne, standing at attention, focused on his next orders. He was unfazed by the confusion among the other kids around him. A drill instructor, wearing a gray cap, stood in front of them, looking at the trainees.
 
“We’re going on a little run, brats. We’re going to go a couple miles around the camp, and you better keep up.” Ryne could not help but notice that this drill instructor was looking at him when he said it, with eyes filled with disgust.
 
Ryne fought back the urge to claw at his face on instinct.
 
***
 
As the next hour approached, dozens upon dozens of children marched on the dirt road in the jungles outside the camp. Drill instructors ran alongside them, barking insults and demands to keep running. Some kids had vomit on their shirt, while others were starting to limp. Ryne, trying to keep pace, could feel his legs burning with pain, as the muscles tightened. However, the images of his father and mother, their smiles and faces staring back at him in his mind, kept him going as he pushed through the pain.
 
“Nothing is going to stop me. Nothing”.
 
As the march continued, Ryne noticed that one of the kids, a boy with dark complexion and short hair, was about to collapse, hearing the boy’s strained breathing got louder. Suddenly, he tripped up, and Ryne caught him to make sure he did not trip over him. Ryne looked into the boy’s face as their eyes met. Young Ryne could make out the boy muttering something, but he couldn't tell what. A drill instructor, noticing Ryne and the boy slowing down the march behind him, ran up to him, baton at the ready. 
“Do not help him, trainee. He is holding up you and the rest of your unit.” Ryne looked at the drill instructor, and back to the tired boy who had his arm over his shoulder as Ryne held him up.
 
“You’re on your own, deadweight,” Ryne coldly said to the winded trainee. Ryne shoved the exhausted boy off, and continued his run. The boy tumbled over to the side of the road, where a swarm of Dis came upon him like vultures, batons crashing on the kid who was now yelping and begging. Ryne never looked back, as he and the rest of the kids made the turn on the march that led back into the Camp entrance. 
 
Several minutes later, with the sun now overhead and the heat rising, Ryne and the first Alpha Company trainees crossed back into the camp entrance, where drill instructors and military personnel watched them. As the trainees made their stop at the campgrounds, trying to catch their breath, Lieutenant Ambrose, with his emerald armor, and the silver-haired SCPO Mendez emerged from the top of a watchtower above, as they observed the scene below them. Ryne looked up to see them both, and the sight of the emerald armor only renewed his vigor. Ryne turned back to see the boy he left behind, slowly jogging his way back to camp, only to collapse on the floor and be dragged by the DIs to the medical tent nearby.
 
“Pathetic.”
 
Suddenly, a drill instructor, with a thick mustache and smarmy smirk, walked up to Ryne, the same one that seemingly called him out before the march. Ryne stood upright, staring daggers at the hazel eyes of the drill instructor. The man rubbed his stubby chin, and let out a smirk at the young Ryne, who still wore a face of defiance in front of him.
 
“Not bad, kid. Maybe I was wrong, but we’ll see.”
 
As the drill instructor adjusted his cap and turned to leave, Ryne fell back in line with the other trainees, a look of arrogance came over his face as he awaited the next orders. In his mind, Ryne could feel he was meant for this, and nothing was going to stop his revenge.
 
Absolutely nothing.
 
 
The sights and sounds of bullets firing off filled the air at Currahee’s firing ranges, as dozens of kids laid on their stomachs, aiming their rifles at metal targets hundreds of feet away from them. The kids, trainees for Alpha Company, now wearing grayed-out military fatigues, with tag numbers on their chest.
 
It was their new identity, their new life.
 
Laying on his belly, Ryne took a deep breath, as his finger slightly tightened on the trigger of his M392 rifle. Looking through the iron sights of the rifle, Ryne was focused on the circular metal target that was about 30 to 40 yards away in front of him. The sounds of rifle fire cracked the air, as the other trainees of Alpha Company fired their rifles.
 
PANG…PANG…PANG.
 
Three successive rounds rang out from Ryne’s rifle, as the bullets hit the target. All three rounds were grouped together, near the center of the bullseye.
 
PANG…PANG…PANG…PANG…PANG…
 
Bullets zipped out of the muzzle and clashed on the metal plating of a bullseye, ringing out until he exhausted the clip. All fifteen rounds fired off, and all 15 rounds hit the metal target. Ryne set the rifle down, as he turned to look at the drill instructor who was observing him. The same hazel-eyed drill sergeant that challenged him on day one of his training.
 
“Outstanding, A064. We may have just found your calling.”
 
Ryne only glared at him, and quietly laid his rifle on the sandbags, dismissed by the drill instructor.
 
These past few weeks, Ryne and Alpha Company were undergoing weapons training, and Ryne showed his talent as a sharpshooter. He was in the top percentile when it came to weapons training. However, it was not good enough unless he was at the top, which he was not.
 
That distinction belonged to a head-shaved trainee named Jun.
 
Ryne turned to his right, to find Jun, who was also at the range firing his DMR. Ryne watched as the trainee hit his shots with great precision, the bullets clinking the metal targets. Just like Ryne, the trainee nailed all his shots. Ryne could see Jun was cool and calm, practically unbothered.
 
Ryne grinded his teeth in frustration.
 
Ryne turned back to his station, and grabbed the DMR and loaded a fresh clip. The DI was confused at what A064 was doing.
 
“A064, I thought I dismissed you,” said the DI with a stern tone in his voice. Ryne looked back at the DI, and the just laid on his belly again, and aimed the rifle at the circular metal target dozens of feet away. He had completely ignored the DI's instruction.
 
PANG, PANG.
 
Ryne squeezed off more rounds, and those rounds found their target. The DI, clearly annoyed, was seconds away from dragging and throwing Ryne out of the range. However, as his arm reached out to Ryne’s collar, a bald, weathered old man in his officer’s uniform held his hand out to stop the DI.
 
“Chief Mendez, sir. I apologize for the trainee’s action, I will personally discipl—“.
 
“No need. Let him continue.”
 
Mendez looked at the boy below him, firing his rifle and not paying attention to anything but the target in front of him. He walked away, as he continued to inspect the other trainees on the firing range.
 
“A064, huh, you've got some promise,” Mendez thought as he left the range.
 
 
“Where are you Ryne?!”
 
Those were last words Ryne heard before abandoning his Spartan teammates to two hostile teams of Spartan trainees that were converging on their position in the training preserve. Ryne, in his new Semi-powered Infiltration combat suit, was jumping through the jungles of the preserve in a desperate rush to reach the objective point. Things were going well, that was until he ran into Emile and his team.
"Emile is gonna have to try harder than that," muttered Ryne, as he trudged through the shrubbery of the preserve, cautiously scanning the jungle terrain around him to not let the trainee that has had him in his sights since Day One on Currahee.
 
The goal of the exercise was simple: Ryne and his team were to reach Objective Site Alpha within a certain time, while engaging with hostile Spartan trainees armed with rifles loaded with painful stun rounds that had the same objective. Unfortunately, Ryne and his two Spartan teammates were quickly compromised, after one of them gave away their position falling for bait laid by Emile and his team. Being pinned in a ditch by heavy fire and realizing that a prolonged fight was not feasible, Ryne did the next best thing to ensure mission completion. He left his team as bait, while he rushed to the objective. He falsely told his team he would flank them, instead he took a path through river stream and left them to clean up the mess they made. Ryne wasn't in the mood of cleaning up the messes that others made. 
He never was. 
 
As he sprinted, Ryne could hear faint voices and footsteps of DIs rushing to his position. Either they took care of the team or they realized what Ryne was up to, and abandoned their fight to give chase. Ryne hastened his pace, running at a speed that no normal human could touch. He jumped and hurdled over fallen trees and boulders in his way, barely breaking a sweat inside his heavy armored exoskeleton.
 
A few days ago, Ryne and the Alpha Company trainees were on an orbital medical facility. On that station, Ryne and the kids were taken to a medical bay, where they were given physical augmentations. Ryne recalled the painful pricks and how much body was in pain for the last few days. However, as he recovered, Ryne felt stronger, quicker, and all-around better. It was explained to him and the trainees by Commander Ambrose that these augmentations enhanced their strengths, reflexes, and speed in ways they could not even imagine.
 
It made them superhuman. It made them Spartans.
 
Ryne had been getting used to these augmentations while recovering on the orbital station, as he never felt so strong and quick in his life. He was already an athletic kid back on Arcadia, but this was different. This was more than simply being in shape, this was being unstoppable.
 
Ryne continued to gallop across the jungle preserve, jumping and maneuvering past the natural obstacles and barriers. Suddenly, the familiar whizzing of stun rounds flew over his head, and Ryne realized that he was under hot pursuit by other trainees. Ryne quickly took cover behind a large tree, checking his MA5 rifle. The young Spartan became still, as his mind focused on the sounds around him. Behind his bulbous SPI helmet, Ryne closed his eyes as he tried to clear his mind. He could hear the slight brush of branches, the whistle of the wind, the gentle movements of blades of grass.
 
Then, Ryne could hear the familiar crunching of grass and mushing of dirt by combat boots. The same combat boots that were the source of his torture these past two years. Ryne quickly broke cover, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, and aiming at the first Alpha Company trainee he saw.
 
“You’re mine now.”
 
‘’BRRRRT’’ 
A quick burst brought that trainee down, doubling over in pain. Behind him were two other trainees who tried to raise their rifles at their ambusher.
 
“BRRRT…BRRRT….BRRRT”
 
Ryne snapped to his targets with precise aim, and brought them down with ease. His enhanced reflexes made Ryne feel like his targets were moving in slow motion. Ryne lowered his rifle, and approached his handy work. Gazing upon the fallen trainees, je noticed one there was only three trainees on the floor writing before him. 
One was missing.
Suddenly, an SPI armored Spartan leaped from a tree behind Ryne, tackling him to the ground and knocking his MA5K away. Both armored trainees wrestled around the ground, fighting for any advantage. Grabbing Emilie in Guillotine hold that he learned during sparring, Ryne could feel fists crashing into his ribs, pain reverbing throughout his torso. He quickly let go, pushing Emile off him to put some space between them. Now circling each other, Ryne and Emile locked into each other. 
"Payback's a bitch," Emile threatened in a growl from his low voice, cracking his knuckles.
"Pathetic, you still haven't let that go?" Ryne snidely responded. "Just move on, dumbass. It's not my fault that you couldn't keep up in that march. You were weak back then. Now? You're just weak-minded."
With a jolt, Ryne and Emile charged, their fists cocked back and ready to strike. Both fists sruck each other's helmets, cracking noises echoing across the small patch of grass that was their makeshift arena. The violent sounds and battle cries of two Alpha Company Spartans echoed the preserve.
Chief Petty Officer Mendez stood in the rain, wearing a weather poncho that covered his bald head and wrinkly face, as he watched a soaking wet trainee finish his next set of push-ups. It was just those two outside, as Mendez sought to punish the blonde-haired trainee for his recent transgression two days ago. He just got down discipling another trainee, Emile, yesterday for his actions that day, now it was this one's turn.
Ryne-A064 had abandoned his team in a field exercise. This was about the fourth time this happened ever since Ryne was assigned to a fireteam, so Mendez took matters into his own hands. Normally, these trainees would’ve washed out, but both had too much potential to be wasted. When it came to Ryne, the trainee was an excellent shot, wiley, and determined. After all, despite all his trouble, Ryne still managed to complete the field exercise by himself. It would be odd to kick him out when he still succeeded somehow. 
“Trainee, do you know why I’m not back in my quarters, not enjoying a Sweet William cigar?”
“No, sir,” replied Ryne as he hit his seventy-sixth push up.
“Let me enlighten you, it is because you are arrogant, short-sighted, and idiotic. To put it simply, you are a little shit. These exercises are to help you work alongside your brothers and sisters when you fight the Covenant, not to take out your tantrums and settle childish spats. The Covenant are not as forgiving as our training, and you need to get that through your skull.”
Ryne went for his eighty-first push-up, gritting his teeth as he tried to avoid backtalk. He respected Mendez too much to be his usual self.
“Well, A064, you’re no stranger to back talk. Got anything to say for yourself?”
Ryne turned his head slightly, seeing Mendez’s furrowed face looking straight down on him. “Sir, it is not my fault that they can’t keep up with me. I did my job and got the job done. We’re trained to be the best, sir. Not to be coddled. As you said, sir, the Covenant are merciless and will fight us tooth n’ nail.”
Mendez sighed at the response. Clearly, punishment and lecture wasn’t going to get the message across. “Stand up, A064,” ordered Mendez.
Ryne quickly stood up, standing at attention and keeping his gaze straight as the rain soaked him. Mendez saw the boy was a natural soldier, disciplined and dedicated to the cause. However, this ego, this attitude was something that was making him short-sighted. He seemed more interested in killing aliens than safeguarding the last remnants of humanity, he cared so little about his brothers and sisters that he was training alongside. Mendez looked at the trainee intently, as rain continued to pour over his dirtied face and drenched his now dirty blonde hair. 
“Fine. You do not need to be friends or comrades with your team. However, you need each other, whether you like it or not. An army of Spartans will mean nothing, if they can’t operate like a well-oiled machine because the individual parts continue to impede its function. Let me ask you this, A064. Do you want to be a burden on this company, to our cause?” 
Mendez could tell that question pissed off the trainee, as he slightly bit the inside of his bottom lip. 
“Finally, some progress.”
“No, sir,” Ryne restored in a low growl, struggling to hide his anger at being asked such a question.
“No man is an island, that is something you’re going to learn one day. For now, just view your team, your fellow Spartans as tools to get you where you need to go. Like you, they are now weapons of war, and to not utilize them for the mission is nothing short of idiocy. You and your team will die quicker, and accomplish nothing if you go on this way. You have a duty to ensure humanity’s survival, abandon it and your family’s deaths will mean nothing. Have I made myself clear?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Mendez, still wearing a stone-faced frown, could see the trainee was tired, but ready for what came next. The rain was coming down harder, and Mendez motioned for a DI observing nearby to approach them. “Go take five laps across the parade ground, and get out of my sight once you’re done. Instructor Song has permission to strike you with her baton, if you stop for any reason.” 
The DI pulled out her baton, twirling it in her left hand. Ryne nodded and began his run, with Song following closely behind him. While running in the heavy rain picking up his speed to keep Song satisfied with his effort, Mendez’s words still ring in Ryne’s skull, like recorder in his mind.
“Do you want to be a burden on this company?” 
“You need each other, whether you like it or not.”
“You have a duty to ensure humanity’s survival, abandon it and your family's suffering will mean nothing.”
Ryne picked up the pace, fueled by Mendez’s echoes. The image of that split-jawed monster thrusting his glowing blade into his mother, the explosion at the tram station where his father was, and Arcadia burning. Ryne struggled to recall any other memories, barely remembering her mother’s tender hug and his father’s warm smile as he hiked with him in the jungles of Arcadia.
Soon, it was their deaths that he might only remember from them, not their love, just their suffering.
In that moment, Ryne decided that retribution wasn’t about just killing aliens, it was about punishing them and making them feel everything he felt when he was on Arcadia. What better punishment than ensuring Humanity’s survival, and returning the favor to those hinge-head bastards. Ryne stopped in his tracks suddenly, not because he was tired, but because he arrived at one realization, the realization that if humanity was to survive, the aliens would be punished.
Punished by exterminating them in turn. 
Before blacking out from a vicious strike from Song’s baton, one thought, one promise was made in Ryne’s darkened mind.
“I’m going to burn their world to the ground.”
===Chapter 2===
“What was I thinking? This is insane. Oh, I’m definitely gonna splat on the ground.”
 
Standing behind a line of boys and girls on the bay of a Pelican dropship, Delsin, with his disheveled, scruffy brown hair that had grown long, peered over the line, seeing an open door into the night sky outside. He gulped, as he began to have second thoughts. Panicked thoughts raced through Delsin’s mind, as the dropship neared its drop zone. A grizzled officer stood near the edge of the bay, with his weathered, hardened face staring back at the gaggles of children in front of him.
 
“So, who wants to go first?”
 
The kids looked around, waiting for someone to make the first move, Minutes passed and nobody dared to move. Suddenly, a young girl, with dark, long hair stepped out, right in front of Delsin. She stepped in front of the crowd, with all eyes staring at her, waiting to see what she would do. “Look at this, a volunteer. Well, young lady, we don’t have all day”, remarked the officer. The girl made her way to the edge of the bay, looking at the weathered military officer beside her.
 
Delsin noticed that she seemingly gave a faint smile to the crowd of kids before her, and watched as she took the plunge into the night air below, her green eyes disappearing as she dropped over the bay. The shock of what she did overtook the bay, but then, it turned into something else. One by one, more kids took the edge of the dropship, and jumped. Delsin watched this happen, and suddenly all of his fear and anxiety began to fade. In fact, a new fear came over him.
 
The fear of being left behind.
 
Taking a deep breath, Delsin brushed past some of the kids, and made his way to the brink of the bay. He peeked over, only seeing a black sky and small fields and trees below. Delsin looked at the officer observing him. Delsin expected him to tell him to hurry up or get out of the way. Instead, he gave a look on his weathered scarred face of the elder officer that only served to strengthen his resolve. A look that simply said, “You can do this.”
 
With that, Delsin leaped, reaching out to the starry night, and began his plummet to grass below.
 
As he fell, Delsin looked around the night sky, seeing stars, clouds, and White mountain caps as his body twirled around to the ground. In his fall, he felt fear, but he also felt a kind of peace. He could not place it, but, as he tumbled to the ground below, Delsin wished he could just stay in the air forever, like a dream.
 
Suddenly, Delsin heard something rip out of the pack that he was wearing. A black canopy bloomed out of his pack, and it violently jerked Delsin to an upward position, which caused him to experience his first ever whiplash. Regaining his senses, Delsin noticed several black blocks swirling below him, realizing that those shapes were the other kids that jumped. Delsin tightly gripped the ropes attached to his canopy, as the ground got closer and closer to him.
 
Delsin hit the grassy surface on some small hilltop, tumbling hard and getting the wind knocked out of him. Delsin laid flat on his back, as his canopy softly landed next to him. Delsin was not sure what happened, he did not move a muscle as several thoughts raced through his head.
 
“Am I dead? Did I really jump from a ship? Am I dead? What happens now? Am I dead?”
 
As he laid there, staring at the stars and clouds of the night sky and seeing more black canopies above him that were also making their way down, a freckled girl appeared above, quizzically looking at him like a cat finding a new toy. “Hey, how are you doing down there?” asked the girl, with a twinge of concern in her tone.
 
Delsin looked into her face, trying to make sure she was real. “Eh, just laying around”. The girl’s toothy grin appeared to him, as she seemed to like his joke. “I take it you had fun like me.”
 
Delsin sat up, and noticed another trainee, short red-hair and confident expression, approaching him and his new freckled-face friend. “How’s he doing, Freckles?” asked the trainee.
 
“He’s fine, Red. Just enjoying the view is all,” responded the girl as she looked annoyed at the boy.
 
“Don’t call me Red.”
 
“Well, don’t call me Freckles.”
 
The two trainees turned their attention to Delsin; he was still sitting on the grassy knoll. They gave him a good look over, as Delsin observed them. “Shoot, you’re lucky,” said Red. “You look boring, so we can’t give you a matching nickname”.
 
Delsin could not help but smile at that observation. Both Red and Freckles helped Delsin up, as they brushed off grass and dirt on him. 
“Well, speak up. You got a name, right?” asked Freckles. Delsin quickly responded with a shy retort.
 
“Del-, Delsin.”
 
“Huh, weird name. I like it. Well, Delsin, good on you for joining the rest of us. Now, c’mon, I suspect the grown-ups are waiting for us.” stated Red. Freckles quickly grabbed Delsin’s arm as she dragged him off the ground to follow.
 
“Hey, slow down. I am still kinda—.“
 
“Oh don’t be a baby, Del.” Freckles said as she cut off Delsin from finishing his complaints. The three kids quickly ran their way down the hillside, as more black canopies began to appear above the night sky.
A young boy, built like a brick house, fell flat on his back, as he began to clutch his jaw in pain, circled by other kids and a drill instructor that was watching the young boys and girls of Beta Company being outmatched in every way during their sparring matches by one girl.
 
Normally, when conducting hand-to-hand combat training, these sparring sessions would end with the winner continuing to fight until they were beaten. No one lasted long enough to run through nearly an entire training group.
 
That was until now.
 
Standing in the middle of the circled group, a young girl, still holding her fighting stance with both hands held in a traditional martial arts pose, stood over her defeated sparring partner with a smile, scoring her sixth victory in a row today. She relaxed her stance and bowed in respect, just as her stepfather taught her back on Earth. The girl reached her hand out and helped her fellow trainee up, dusting off the dirt on him. “That was great! Thanks for the fight!” She looked at her drill instructor, with a renewed focus on what was next.
 
“So, who’s up?”
 
Beta Company had some very talented hand-to-hand combatants in their ranks. One of them was Giulia-B255. She had already made a strong impression among her peers and the drill instructors. Giulia was among the first to volunteer during the night jump, also one of the more physically prepared trainees. Giulia had a natural talent for hand-to-hand combat, thanks to her martial arts background which served as a solid foundation for her. Not to mention, Giulia’s proficiency with handguns, knifes, and shotguns was well-known during weapons training, as if those weapons were a natural extension of her, Stories of her facing down the toughest trainees in sparring sessions, and her showboating with handguns at the range endeared her to most of her peers, although she did annoy others.
All this made it clear that she was going to be one of Beta Company’s most elite Spartans.
 
The drill instructor pinched his eyes, but could not help but chuckle in astonishment. He had been pairing Giulia with larger and tougher trainees, but she was able to overcome them with little difficulty. Now, she was about to run through another group of trainees with ease. 
 
The drill instructor looked down on his holo-pad to scrounge through who was left to fight B255. He saw the name “Delsin-B240”, and scanned at the tags of the surrounding young trainees’ gray training uniforms. Once he spotted the number, he saw a young man, nervous and clearly hiding behind two other trainees, hoping not to be noticed in the large crowd. The instructor made eye contact with B240, and flicked his head to move in the circle.
 
The boy, with a glazed look of fear in his eyes, meekly got in the circle, confronted by an eager Giulia who was already getting in her stance. The drill instructor could only palm his face, as B240 looked like a deer in headlights, not even putting up a guard. The only other kids that could probably match up with Giulia, were in other groups, so she was going to churn through this group without breaking a sweat.
 
He gave up.
 
“Bee-Two-Five-Five, stand down. It's is time to move on. We need to get other trainees in for these sessions, and I don't you need sending all these brats to medical tent."
 
Delsin looked at the drill instructor with a sigh of relief, while Giulia had a look of confusion and disappointment. Shrugging her shoulders, Giulia fell back, briefly glancing at Delsin as she brushed past him, into the crowd of trainees where her friends greeted her with high fives and pats on her back.
 
“Now, it’s Bee-Two-Four-Zero and….”
 
“I’ll go next, drill instructor.”
 
A large, lumbering trainee, with his freckled face and brown buzz cut, came into the circle, and towered over Delsin. Despite the clear mismatch, the drill instructor shrugged, as he could not be bothered to find someone that B240 could actually stand a chance against in a match.
 
“Well, it was a nice life.” Delsin resigned himself to his fate.
 
For the next several minutes, which felt like hours to the young trainee, Delsin was being pounded by the brutish trainee, gut punches, elbow strikes, and head blows. He tried to fight back, but his punches were easily dodged and blocked by the trainee. It was clear that this cruel trainee was toying with Delsin, as he encouraged the chorus of cheers for every blow landed, and the instructor was letting it happen. The trainees cheered Delsin’s tormentor, with the exception of Red, Freckles, and Giulia.
 
Red and Freckles, who Delsin used as a shield earlier to avoid being called on, tried to encourage Delsin, while Giulia watched closely, upset that the fight was still going, seeing it was clearly over already and the boy was just being tormented now.
 
Delsin threw a desperate jab, only for it to be dodged and countered with a left hook that planted Delsin’s face first into the mud. The trainee let out a belly laugh and began to shove Delsin back into the dirt with his foot.
 
“Stay down, you don’t belong here. You should not have jumped from the ship. You are not one of us, you loser”.
 
In the midst of a crowd of kids jeering and laughing at him, Delsin clenched the mud with his hand, as he forced himself up. Those words rang in his head, as he thought back to his time in the orphanage before coming to Onyx. How he was tormented and bullied day and night. How helpless and weak he felt. He also recalled how he knocked his tormentors out when they began to pick on others that were just as weak, and the feeling he got from that.
 
He also thought back to those same kids that he defended, and how happy they were to have a protector. It was part of the reason why he came to this planet, and he was not about to go back on the promise now.
 
Delsin stood face to face with his opponent, staring into his smug face. He could see a toothy grin crack across his smug face. The boy let his guard down, and slowly approached the wobbly Delsin.
 
“C’mon, it’s over, just stay down, wimp. You have no cha—“
 
Delsin’s head crashed into his face suddenly, hitting on the bridge of his nose as Delsin had to jump to compensate for the height.
 
“You talk too much.” A slightly dazed Delsin barked with blood dripping from his forehead now.
 
The boy fell to his knees, clutching his face in pain. Delsin shook his head, as he tried to keep his head from spinning after landing that head-butt. Delsin looked to see his opponent uncover his face, as blood poured out of his nostrils. He could also now feel some of his own blood dripping from the cut on his forehead. The rowdy crowd around them turned silent, stunned at the turn of events. The drill instructor was even stunned at the sight before him.
 
“You're gonna wish you hadn't done that!” yelled the teenage behemoth as he charged towards Delsin. In his blind rage, the trainee threw a wild punch, which Delsin ducked under and turned to hit a vicious forearm strike to the back of his opponent’s head.
A loud thud could be heard as the forearm crashed into the side of the head.
 
The frenzied trainee flopped to the dirt face first, where he laid motionless. Delsin, with his face dripping with blood from his forehead, stood over him, still ready to fight. The drill instructor stepped in, shoving Delsin back, and checking on the boy. A couple of the other instructors came over to help.
 
The kids were in shocked silence, surprised at how quickly the fight shifted. As Delsin fell in with the kids in the crowd, Red and Freckles shook and hugged their bloody and confused friend. “Holy crap, Del, I didn’t know you had it in you”, said Red as he wrapped his arm over Delsin in a one-armed hug.
 
“Yeah, me neither.” replied Delsin as he started to wipe the blood off his face.
 
On the other side of the crowd, Giulia looked at the roughed-up Delsin across from her. She was surprised how this pint-sized kid was able to turn the tide so quickly. Not to mention, this kid took a nasty beating and he still came out on top. The force of that elbow strike and how precise that hit was impressed her. Suddenly, Giulia found herself thinking of ways to counter such a strike, and what other tricks that this trainee had up his sleeves.
 
A grin broke across her face.
***
Couple hours later...
 
Walking past the Currahee barracks after leaving medical to get his forehead stitched from his cut, Delsin walked quickly to his quarters before curfew kicked in. Delsin’s head was still throbbing from the head-butt earlier. Del felt proud, he stood his ground and survived. Heck, Red and Freckles were asking him how he knew to throw those strikes.
 
Truth was, Delsin felt it was more luck than skill. It took one moment of vulnerability to turn the match in his favor, and a well-placed strike to end it quickly. He was on his last legs in that fight, and if it were not for the taunting words of that blonde prick, he would have given up on the spot.
 
Speaking of that prick, he and three other trainees emerged from the shadows of the barracks and came face-to-face with Delsin. “You think you’re hot shit now. A cheap shot and lucky hit don’t mean anything,” remarked the blonde brute, as he and his three friends snickered and circled Delsin.
 
“C’mon guys, I want no trouble. You're right, I was lucky. Can we just—."
 
“Nah, we’re going to teach you a lesson, you little wor—."
 
Suddenly, a roundhouse kick came from behind and knocked the blonde face down to the dirt. Delsin and the three other trainees, stunned at the sight, looked to see who landed the blow.
 
“Now, why didn’t you boys invite me for this rumble? You know I love a good brawl,” Giulia playfully questioned, as she was standing on one leg, with her other leg chambered and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. One of the trainees rushed her, only for Giulia to quickly side kick him in his gut, where he doubled over gasping for air. The brutish teen slowly got up, rubbing the back of his head, and barked for the two other trainees to get her.
"Don't just stand there! Get her!"
 
It was a quick fight.
 
Delsin watched Giulia effortlessly dispatch his tormentor’s two lackeys, as she threw one of them over her shoulder onto the ground, and landed an intercepting punch to the other incoming trainee. Both were writing on the ground, as Giulia looked over them. However, the blonde trainee charged towards Giulia’s blindside with a punch hurtling towards her the back of her skull.
 
However, his fist just stopped short as Delsin jumped on his back and held him in a poorly-held attempt at a sleeper hold. The lumbering trainee tried to shake him off, but before he could throw him off, a gut punch and knee to his face by Giulia put him to sleep, as his unconscious body slumped to the dirt. Giulia turned to face the lone attacker left standing, who was now all alone as his ringleader was knocked out on the ground, and the other two trainees began to retreat. Giulia looked at him, and motioned for him with her index finger to attack her as she got her in stance.
 
He did not oblige her, as the trainee, with a panicked face, followed his wounded cohorts into the shadows of the barracks. Giulia shrugged, in disappointment that it was over so quick. Giulia relaxed herself, and turned to see Delsin, flat on his butt on the ground and with a tired look on his face. She approached him, and stuck her hand to help him up. A wary Delsin slowly took her hand, lifting himself off the ground.
 
“You okay?” Giulia asked, as she looked at the dirtied and bruised trainee, who was still wearing the wounds of the sparring session earlier today. “Yeah, just sore is all”, replied Delsin, as he gingerly stretched his neck. “Thanks for saving me back there.”
 
Giulia smiled, happy to see her fellow trainee still in good spirits. “No biggie, I didn’t think three on one was fair, so I had to step in to make it even.” Delsin cracked a smile. “Because you count as two, right?”
 
“Heh,” Giulia snickered at the comment. “Just wanted to say hello and congratulate you on beating jerk face on the ground here during today's sparring. You got your ass handed to you, and you still kept getting up. Most would quit in your situation.”
 
“Thanks, I guess? I’ve never had someone compliment me on how well I can take an ass-beating”, Delsin replied, making Giulia smile. “Funny, I’m Giuilia and I take it that your Delso?”
 
“It’s Delsin, but close enough.” Giulia was a bit surprised how nonchalant Delsin was, as if he was not just about to be beaten within an inch of his life a couple minutes ago. Most of the Beta Company trainees that Giulia interacted with outside of her fireteam were usually so uptight as if they had stick up their ass, and mostly kept to themselves and teammates.
 
Not him though, this boy just rolled with the punches and acted like it was another typical day for him.
 
“Well Delsin, it was nice meeting you. I hope the next sparring session is when I get face you. You look like you could put up a challenge.” remarked Giulia, as she slowly picked her unconscious foe off the ground to carry him off back to the barracks, slinging his arm over her shoulder.
 
“Yeah, well, I have had enough CQC bullcrap for a while, so I hope not,” Delsin rebuked as he resumed his quiet trek back to his barracks. Delsin waved back as he disappeared from his rescuer’s view. Giulia smirked as she watched him leave.
 
“See ya around, Delsin”. 
In the midst of the dense jungles of Onyx, as the gray clouds covered the planet, four individuals clad in olive-green, Semi-powered Infiltration armor took cover behind a fallen tree log. Stun rounds grazing the trunk, and taking pieces of wood with it. One of the armored figures peeks over to see the source of incoming fire, locating the three other armored clad hostile firing behind some hedgerows in front of them.
 
Lowering herself down as a pair of rounds whizzed over her head, the armored soldier looked to her two teammates. “I’m guessing three tangos in those bushes, they seemed rather focused on us” said the soldier as she motioned towards the tree line. The trooper sitting in the middle began to think, as he looked down on the ground before raising his head to give his next orders.
 
“Delsin, draw their fire. Freckles and I will flank them and take ‘em down. Dan take the other flank. Let’s do it before another team shows up”. Delsin, sitting on the far-end of the trunk with his shiny new armor, nodded and lifted his rifle over the tree trunk, firing bursts in the tree line blindly.
 
Delsin watched Freckles and Red disappear into the brushes, while Dan slipped into the treelines on the opposite flank. Delsin dropped down to reload a fresh magazine into his MA5K, and rose to resume his firing, only to be hit with a couple in his left shoulder. Dropping down again behind cover, Delsin gripped his left shoulder and gritted his teeth in pain. Suddenly, the fire stopped and Delsin looked over the trunk, seeing three tumbling trainees fall over from the trees, their bodies paralyzed by stun rounds. Red and Freckles emerged from the brushes ahead, and waved Delsin down. Delsin, with his one good arm, grabbed his MA5K and jogged towards them.
 
“They got you, Del?” asked a disappointed Freckles looking at Delsin limp left arm. Delsin tried to shake it off, but it was hard to get any feeling. “I can still fight, guys”, replied Delsin trying to reassure his team he could continue.
“Uh, where’s Dan?”
 
“Down. Sorry guys, but you’re done,” a taunting, female voice from the treelines came through. Romeo turned, weapons at the ready, but it was too late. Stun rounds zipped out of some hedgerows on their flank, striking Freckles and Red, as both trainees crumpled to the ground. Delsin narrowly avoided the incoming rounds and, with one arm, fired his MA5K blindly in the incoming fire’s direction. Delsin’s ears perked when he heard the subtle noises of leaves and dirt being crunched under iron soles from behind. He turned to see another SPI-armored trooper reach to grab him, which Delsin narrowly escaped as he leaned back to escape the grasp. In desperation, Delsin swung his rifle wildly, only for said Spartan to duck under. Within seconds, Delsin found face-up on the ground, as the Spartan relieved what had just happened in his heads. This trainee had grabbed his arm, and threw him over with a smooth-and-quick judo-throw, the same throw that they were taught over-and-over during CQC. As he flew in the air, Delsin realized who had just taken most of Romeo down.
“Dammit, she got the drop on us.”
Delsin tried to get up, only for a foot on his chest to shove him back down and now staring down the barrel of an M6C magnum. He could only look up at the green, bulbous helmet staring back at him, as three other Spartans emerged from the vegetation and joined their companion, walking over the bodies of his teammates.
“Sorry, Del. Better luck next time,” Giulia remarked, moments before she squeezed the trigger.
***
Delsin, with his helmet in his hand, exited the preserve and began his long trudge back to the barracks. He walked by other Beta Company trainees, in their own armor, getting ready for their turn for combat exercises. Delsin and his two teammates were training non-stop these past few weeks, as the intensity had ramped up and the training grew longer.
 
Several weeks ago, Delsin and the rest of Beta Company were given “augmentations” on some space stations, which made them faster and stronger than the average soldier. Soon after, the trainees were equipped with new armor, and were now training with it in the field. Delsin felt the change, feeling practically invincible, but the resumed training afterwards led to reality crashing down.
 
He got better, but so did everyone else.
 
As he slowly walked the parade grounds, alone in his thoughts, Delsin realized that this phase of training indicated that they were close to graduation. It was only a matter of time before they were christened “Spartans”. 
 
Then, it was off to war. To fight the Covenant, and turn the tide.
 
Delsin was hiding from those aliens back home, and watched them tear his home apart and take away his family. Now, he was going to fight them. Not for payback, but to stop them from doing to other kids what they did to him and so many others like him in Beta Company. Delsin could feel the fear and anxiety in his body; he almost wanted to throw up on the spot.
 
“Hey, Delsin! Over here!”
 
Luckily, a familiar, cheerful voice called out to him that prevented that from happening.
 
Delsin watched as Giulia, also clad in her green armor sans her helmet, approached him. She had her hair shortened, no longer was it long like the earlier days of their training. She had also gotten taller, due to the augmentations. They were around the same height, but Delsin still felt small when face-to-face with her.
 
“Hey, you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asked Giulia, wearing her usually upbeat expression on her face.
 
“Nah, just frustrated is all.”
 
“Hey, listen. You did well, just ran into bad luck is all. We just took advantage of your sitch, next time, we’ll make it face-to-face for a fair fight.”
 
Delsin and Giulia had struck up a friendly relationship, after Giulia saved Delsin from a beatdown by angry trainees months ago. They did not interact much, being from different teams, but they always took the chance to talk when they could. Giulia and Delsin talked briefly about themselves, what trouble they got into during training, making jokes about how weird and annoying the DIs are, and complaining about the food.
 
The talks were brief and far between, but it was enough. For Giulia, it was just nice to talk to someone that was not the usual face, and Delsin appreciated that someone outside of his team cared enough to talk to him.
 
“So, I hear that you and your fireteam are going to compete for top graduation honors from what the DIs are mumbling about. Congrats.” Delsin said, with clear admiration in his tone.
 
Giulia, slightly caught off guard by the congratulations, scratched the back of her head and softly smiled. “Thanks, my team and I got a tall task ahead, especially with B312’s and B076’s teams also competing with us. It’s going to be a challenge.”
 
“Eh, you’ll do great. With talented you and your teammates are, I don’t know how you and your team can be beat. I should know, I’ve tried.” Giulia blushed a bit, and she immediately tried to change the subject. “We never did get our match, did we?”
 
“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t cards. Thank god, after what you did to jughead back then and what you just did to me in the preserve, I ‘m in no rush to take you on.”
 
Giulia scoffed as she playfully punched Delsin’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t be such a killjoy. I would’ve gone easy on you. Besides, you’re a lot tougher than you realize, even when you’re getting your butt whipped. It’s what I like most about you.” Suddenly, things got quiet, with both Spartans awkwardly standing, trying to figure out how to keep the conversation going. “Anyways, I’ve got to get ready for our next exercise with my team, Delsin. We’ll talk later, ‘kay?” said Giulia, breaking the silence, as she began to slowly back away from Delsin, shooting a wink before sliding her helmet on.
 
“Giulia”, said Delsin as he got Giulia to stop her in tracks before leaving. “In case we don’t meet again, take care of yourself.” Giulia, smiling underneath her SPI helmet, nodded and then began to jog to the parade grounds to join the gaggle of Spartans gathered.
 
“You too, Delsin,” Giulia yelled, as she waved bye to him.
 
Delsin watched as Giulia disappeared into the crowd of armored trainees waiting for their session to begin. Delsin began his long trek back to his bunk, ready to dive on to the bed as soon as he saw it. He wondered if his team had finished up, hoping they performed well. As he walked back to his barracks, Delsin noticed the usual gray skies had cleared, and he could see Onyx’s sun was bursting through.
 
“Huh, pretty skies, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen that.”
 
Suddenly, Red and Freckles, without their helmets, jumped from behind, wrapping their arms around their somber teammate. Delsin could tell by the jovial looks on their face that they weren’t too broken up at what happened in the preserve. 
“Hey, Del. Was Giulia giving you shit? Because I’ll-”
“She isn’t like that Freck, you know that.” Delsin cut her off before Freckles could finish, as he gently pushed Freck’s arms off him, due to the heavy weight of the armor nearly shoving him down to the ground.
“Yeah, well, I just wanna an excuse to get back at her for that ambush.”
“Save that for the Covies, Freck,” Red responded. “Anyways, let’s head to the mess before the chow is all gone, Dan is already there. I’ve heard they got the good stuff today from Cat.”
The trio then walked across the Currahee camp, joking and bouncing around as if they were kids again. Delsin’s eyes met Freckle's face, as she let out a wide, goofy smile towards her down-in-the-dumps teammate.
 
Delsin couldn’t help but smile right back.
==Part II: Baptism by Fire==
===Chapter 3===
Several Pelicans zipped across the ocean, as they avoided a hail of bullets and Anti-Air rockets from the ravaged and bombed-out harbor in front of them. A Pelican catches fire, as a rocket from a M41 launcher hit the left wing. The burning dropship began to spin out of control, crashing into the water below. A Spartan, in his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor, hanging from the bay of a neighboring Pelican witnessed that very sight before him.
 
“Zulu 3-1 is down, Zulu 3-1 is down.” The radio crackled with panicked chatter by the Pelican pilot.
 
Ryne-A064, standing at the edge of the bay, observed streets they flew over, as UNSC Marines below were engaged in an intense exchange of fire with Mamore Insurgents in the streets and alleyways ravaged by battle. Sniper and machine-gun fire began to spurt out of buildings and other housing structures. Ryne readied his BR55 battle rifle, as the fleet of Pelicans slowly approached the heavily defended shoreline.
 
Ryne looked back into the bay of the dropship, seeing his two “teammates” and a squad of Army Rangers sitting and conversing nervously, which Ryne shook his head slightly in disapproval. It annoyed Ryne to see a “lack of focus” from his peers. They had all endured the same training on Currahee; Ryne was perplexed that these “Spartans” were so relaxed, and friendly with the Rangers.
 
Ryne refocused on the task that was ahead of him. Suddenly, one of the Army Rangers, Captain Wright, stood up and walked himself to join Ryne at the edge of the open bay.
 
“We are here for one man. Colonel Munguia. We take him out, these Innies will tuck tale and run, and this city will be ours. He has hold himself up in some compound deep in the city. We’ll roll up and bag this fucker. On me”, barked the Captain as the Pelican crossed the lake, approaching a shoreline
 
As the Pelican hovered just above the small sandy strip below, Ryne followed the Captain’s lead, as they both jumped onto the water below, followed by his Spartan teammates and the Rangers in the chalk. Ryne and the others waded through the water, using the boulders as cover as they tried to reach the shoreline ahead. In front of the marching Spartans and Rangers, resting on the shore, several warehouses and buildings overlooked their positions on the beach, which they diligently observed for activity and movement.
 
Suddenly, a bullet whizzed over Ryne’s bulbous SPI helmet, as rebel snipers began to fire shots at the incoming UNSC forces from a coliseum-like structure on their left side. Ryne and the rest of the strike force picked up their pace, as they rushed past the bullets that splashed around the water. As Ryne waded through the current, he watched a Ranger get struck in the shoulder, his body disappearing into the dark blue below.
 
Ryne did not flinch, as he kept moving until he got past the sandy strip, and taking cover behind a concrete roadblock. Suddenly, machinegun and small arms fire joined the chorus of sniper fire, as Mamore rebels fired from the windows of a cathedral-like harbor building and other insurgents emerging outside to engage the UNSC forces. Ryne, from his cover, watched his Spartan teammates make their way to nearby cover, but the Rangers still bogged down at the shoreline. He could see a couple UNSC troopers laid motionless on the strip of stand, while the others struggled to move cover-to-cover, the sand kicking up around them.
 
“It’s all on me, typical.”
 
Ryne peeked over his cover, facing a stone stairway that led to the harbor building that was the source of the most intense concentration fire coming to him and the task force. He spotted a trio of rebels emerging from the front door entrance of the building and climbing down the stairs, firing their small arms at him and his Spartan team.
 
Unfazed by the bullets grazing his green combat armor, Ryne readied his Battle rifle, looking through the scope, and aimed at a ragged Insurrectionist wildly firing his MA5 assault rifle at him.
 
BRRRT.
 
Ryne fired off a three-round burst, which struck the rebel in the chest, and watched his fell back on the stairs. He snapped to his next targets, and his battle rifle burping out three-round bursts. Two rebel corpses rolled down the stairs, as Ryne began climb up the stone stairs to the target building.
 
“GLADIATOR. THIS IS WHISKEY ONE-ONE, WE’RE TAKING HEAVY DIRECT FIRE, I REPEAT HEAVY FIRE. REQUESTING AIR SUPPORT”, Ryne could hear Captain Wright’s panic and screaming over the comms.
 
“Negative on that air, Whiskey. Air support is busy with Anti-Air batteries.”
 
‘’Fine by me.’’ Ryne muttered under his breath.
 
As Ryne reached the top, he quickly dove behind a stack of crates and pallets to avoid fire from another squad of rebels defending the front entrance to the harbor building, hiding behind concrete roadblocks and sandbags. Looking back, he could see his two Spartan teammates reached the top of the stairs and return fire as they took cover behind destroyed civilian transport truck.
 
“Cover Fire!” yelled Ryne. The two Spartans both emerged from behind the vehicle, firing their MA5s at the windows of harbor building, while Ryne emerged and lobbed a grenade at the rebels covering the explosion.
 
BOOM
 
The grenade exploded, flinging rebel bodies in the air, and blowing open the sandbags.
 
Through the smoke, Ryne quickly ran into the front entrance, as the other Spartans continued to lay heavy fire on second floor windows. Climbing up the stairs, Ryne spotted the wooden door, leading into where the remaining rebels were holed up in.
 
Stacking on the door, Ryne moved and wound up for a kick.
CRUNCH
 
The wooden splinters exploded, as the door violently flung open. Four armed rebels, who were busy trying to return fire and taking cover against the Spartans outside, were caught off-guard and stunned at the sight of green-armored figure before them. Time moved slowly for Ryne, as he let out successive bursts from his Battle rifle and, within seconds and before they could raise and fire their rifles and machine guns, all five ragged rebels were on the ground dead, with three rounds entering the skulls.
 
“Clear,” yelled Ryne over the comms. Through a large opening from a broken wall, the Spartan quickly noticed that there was still sniper fire from the coliseum-like building on the left flank, still keeping Rangers stuck on the sandy strip. Ryne aimed his scope and began to scan the windows, spotting movement between snipers through the darkened slits and openings he could see. As his fellow Spartans entered the room, discovering bodies surrounding their team leader. Ryne took quick notice of them, and turned his attention to them.
 
“You two, clear out the warehouse there. I’ll give overwatch from here.” Ryne ordered as he gestured to the structure. The two Spartans with little hesitation, headed out the room and their loud metal footsteps could be heard climbing down the stairs.
 
Ryne approached the broken wall, poking the barrel of his rifle out, and tracked his next target, a rebel sniper who was way too comfortable in her hiding nest and still firing upon the Rangers with her DMR. Ryne looked down to see his two teammates reaching the building without notice, and stacking up on the door.
 
“On my shot,” whispered Ryne over the comms. Taking a deep breathe, Ryne placed his target’s head in his crosshairs, and let out deep exhale as he squeezed the trigger.
 
BRRRRT.
 
For the next several minutes, Ryne was alone in his world, imagining the split-jaw aliens in place of the rebels. He took down his targets with ease, intensely focused and driven to ensure no one escaped his sights and bullets.
 
It was pure bliss for him.
***
Resting in a rubble of a café, Ryne looked out to the streets in front of him, through his binoculars, watching for troop movement. The sun was now at its highest, and he could see the shadows of the ravaged city more clearly. He was also planning his next move, as they had quietly navigated the battle-torn city, after surviving the shoreline ambush a couple of hours ago, and were now close to the objective. He turned back to check on the status of the task force.
 
He could see a line of Rangers laying on café tables, now used as gurneys for the Corpsman that accompanied them, as she checked and tended to the wounded. The more able-bodied had a glazed look in their eyes, clearly in daze by the earlier fighting on the shoreline and the streets. Ryne then looked to his teammates, they were also on watch and still looked ready to fight, but he knew they needed the Rangers.
 
Ryne sighed, and stood up. He began to walk towards the kitchen, with his two teammates noticing and following in tow. He approached Captain Wright, still trying to call his command for instructions. Ryne turned his shoulder around, coming face to face with a tired and shell-shocked Army Captain.
 
“Captain, the target is not far, but we can’t afford give him any time to escape.”
 
“My men are tired and wounded, Spartan,” said Wright as he gestured to his squad, as a medic could be seen treating bullet-stricken troopers on café tables and the unharmed Rangers having a glassy look in their eyes as the sit on the floor. “This mission is already over. I’m calling in an evac.”
 
Ryne grabbed his wrist, dragging the Captain’s face to his visor.
 
“Captain, you don’t seem to understand. You are not in charge here anymore. The mission is the priority; gather your able men and follow us to the target.” said Ryne in a low growl. The room grew quiet, as the Spartan and Ranger stared at each other, the two other Spartans stood upright, carefully observing the interaction.
 
The Captain would normally not take this level of disrespect, let alone a veiled threat, but that angry, quiet voice ran a chill down his spine, something that not even the Covenant could do to this experienced Ranger. The Captain was shook out of his earlier distress, overcome by a new fear, and scanned the room before him.
 
“Petrov, Choi. Gather anyone who is not broken and follow me”. Unlinking something from his vest, Wright tossed a smoke grenade to the medic. “Corpsman, pop-smoke for the Pelicans to evac our wounded”. Ryne quietly turned his back and walked away, moving between his Spartan teammates. The two Spartans watched as Ryne went outside, and looked back at each other, with their body language conveying one feeling.
 
Unease.
***
Small rocks and rubble softly feel from the roof above, gently crashing on the helmets of Ryne and his two Spartans teammates laying on their bellies, observing the sight below from the sixth floor of a bombed out office building it. Nestled within ravaged and bombed out buildings of the city, the Spartans and Rangers used an abandoned five-story tower to observe their objective and plan their next moves.
 
A few blocks away from the tower, an abandoned, scarred UEG embassy compound, now being used by Mamore rebels as a command post for the forces in the area. Inside the compound, machine gun nests, guardhouses and towers housing snipers and sentries, about five M12 Warthogs and two M700 Viper tanks in defensive positions surrounding the main embassy building, and a garrison of insurgents occupying the area.
 
Ryne could see the embassy building, now adorned with flags emblazoned with a red fist and skulls, and scanned for the target: Colonel Munguia, he was one of the key figures of the uprising on the colony, and Ryne and his Spartan team were tasked with taking him out. Ryne stood up, and motioned for the two Spartans to follow him. After several minutes of climbing down the rubble and stairs to the ground floor, the Spartans met up with Captain Wright and about a dozen or so Army Rangers waiting in the ruined lobby of the building.
 
“Munguia is likely inside the embassy, and there is no backdoor to get through. Therefore, we are going blow through the front instead. I will take up overwatch, while the rest—."
 
“Wait, you expect about twenty of us to take on a garrison, without any air or armor support. Are you insane?” responded the incredulous Captain.
 
“We can’t wait that long for support, or the target will escape and he’ll go to ground”, Ryne stated. “Captain, these two will join you in your assault, and I’ll handle the rest myself”.
 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the Captain said in an irritated tone.
 
“It means, do your fucking job, and I’ll do mine. We have a mission and we are going to accomplish it, no matter what.”
 
The Captain noticed that this Spartan was talking about this HVT, as if he was some kind of prize for a big game hunt. It was odd to see a soldier to be so obsessive over a target, and he could tell that the other Spartans behind him did not agree with their leader from their body language.
 
“Now, we strike in ten mikes, so get your men ready, Captain.” The Captain, with a grunt of disapproval and a defiant spit on the floor, left and approached his men to relay their plan of action. One of the Spartans approached Ryne from behind, getting near his ear.
 
“Ryne, are you sure about this? This seems like a bad idea. What are you going to do?” asked the Spartan, with concern in his voice.
 
Ryne looked back at the trio of SPI helmets staring back at him.
 
“My job. Just take the gateway and push to the embassy. I’ll handle the rest”.
***
The three SPI-armored Spartans ran behind a concrete roadblock as they grabbed and dragged Captain Wright, who was laying on the ground in a pool of blood and coughing up some more with bullets spraying around them. The Spartans sat the Captain up, and tried to patch bullet wounds in his stomach. One of the Spartans, readying his MA5K rifle, gingerly looked over the cover to assess the situation. The Spartan could see the bodies of dead Rangers and rebels strewn across the courtyard of the compound, with the few surviving Rangers taking cover from the suppressive hostile fire behind sandbags and in the embassy windows. The Spartans and Rangers were able to push into the main entrance of the compound, after some solid shooting from Ryne taking out the guard tower snipers and sentries.
 
However, once inside, they found themselves up against an entrenched and numerically superior enemy force that know was solely focused on them. The Spartans dealt with the enemy armor, utilizing M41 Rocket Launchers from a nearby weapons cache in courtyard, but not without taking heavy casualties. Now, they were under heavy fire and unable to move up. The Spartans returned fire, nailing some of the Mamore rebels, but still were taking heavy fire and forced to hide behind their concrete cover. One thought raced through both their minds, as bullets flew over the heads and they tried stopping Captain Wright’s blood loss:
 
“Where the hell is Ryne?!” 
 
Suddenly, one of the Spartans noticed a man falling out of a window from the eighth floor of the embassy, his body crashing down into the window of a burning window.
***
Overlooking the courtyard battle from the window of the Embassy’s eighth floor, Tomas Munguia, wearing a clean officer uniform “requisitioned” from the Colonial Militia commander he executed several weeks back, smiled at the sight before him. The UNSC dogs were being cut down, and it would amount another failed attempt on his life.
 
“Pathetic fools”, remarked the Colonel to his seven guards in the Ambassador’s office, now decorated with Mamore memorabilia, with him. He reached over to the desk in front of him, pulling out a glass of red wine that he took from a hidden stash in the office. “I’ve got front row seats to this, might as well enjoy it”.
 
The other rebels, wearing custom BDUs torn from dead UNSC troopers they killed on Mamore, joined in laughter and began to relax themselves as they enjoyed the spectacle below. “Those soldiers don’t what hit them”, boasted one of them.
 
Munguia was confident in the outcome, and by the time, UNSC forces came back for a counter-attack, he would already be gone from the compound. Munguia could not help but grin even wider, as he took a swig from his wine.
 
Then, the lights went out.
 
“Goddamn, Earth engineering at it's finest. Merlo, Eckers, go and check what’s wrong.”
 
Two rebels, annoyed by the orders, open the door, going into the hallway to investigate. The door slowly closed behind them. Munguia turned his attention back to the carnage below.
 
Suddenly, he and his mean heard a couple thuds and some cries outside the room in the midst of the celebratory mood in the room, and motioned for one of the rebel bodyguards to check outside.
 
CRUNCH
 
Suddenly, the front double-doors violently busted open and a Green-armored soldier came through with his battle rifle at the ready.
 
BRRRRT….BRRRT…..BRRRRRRRRT…BRRRRT
 
The Colonel could only watch this behemoth of a soldier cut down his men with the well-placed bursts into their skulls. Dropping his glass, the Munguia tried to pull out his sidearm from his holster.
 
BRRRRT
 
Munguia grabbed his left shoulder in pain, as he tumbled back towards the glass window behind him clutching his shoulder. He could see the Green-armored soldier approach him, sliding his rifle to the back and his visor staring back at him.
 
“Dumb Bastard, you think you’ve won. I just killed most of your men and killing me will not stop the rebelli—“.
 
Ryne violently picked him up by the throat, crushing his throat and pressing him on the clear window, pulling his sidearm out in the other hand and pressing into his stomach. “Shut up. No one cares, and I am not wasting my time on you anymore,” Ryne growled. 
 
Ryne pressed his pistol deeper into his stomach, and squeezed.
 
PAP…PAP….PAP….PAP
 
The General clutched his stomach, looking down to see blood pour from his abdomen, looking up to see his last moments: an armored boot crashing into his face. The window gave way to the force, and the Colonel plummeted to the ground below.
 
“Enjoy hell, traitor.”
 
Ryne, not paying mind to the incoming splat below, looked out to the Courtyard, seeing his Spartan teammates and a lone, surviving Ranger still under heavy fire. As Ryne decided on his next actions, Ryne noticed a small weapons cache in the room and on top of some of the weapon cases was an M99A2S3 Stanchion, a high-powered sniper rifle. Ryne went over, picking up and inspecting the rifle, returning to the now-open window that Munguia fell from, and crouching down and taking aim. Through his scope, Ryne made out his targets; several insurgents firing behind their sandbags and concrete covers.
 
Steadying his aim and his finger holding on the trigger, Ryne found his first target, an older rebel firing from the Machine Gunner position of a Warthog, focusing on the two Spartans hiding behind cover in the courtyard.
 
BANG.
 
Ryne watched the gunner’s head explode from one side and turn into a bloody mist. A mildly surprised Ryne pulled back, and looked at the rifle in his hands. He could not help but chuckle in amusement.
 
Ryne began to pick off his next victims below.
 
PANG…PANG….PANG….PANG
***
Ryne came through the double-doors of the embassy’s main entrance, with the M99 Stanchion still in his hands, and climbed down the small set of stairs into the courtyard. He could see three Spartans, with some blood splattered on their light-green armor, furiously march up to him, with one of them getting straight into his face.
 
“What the hell was that? You said there wasn’t a backdoor for us to get in”.
 
“There wasn’t. So, I made one”, responded Ryne.
 
“You used us as bait?!”
 
“Quit complaining, you could handle yourselves.”
 
In a flash reaction, the Spartan got into Ryne’s face, grabbed his shoulder, and cocked his fist to throw a punch.
 
“All the troopers are dead. Captain Wright is dead, bled out because of your stupid plan, while we were fighting for our lives, you waltzed into the building to play hero and take all the credit. I oughta just-”
 
Ryne ripped the angry Spartan’s arm off his shoulder, and shoved him back. “I am here to get the job done, not coddle you or those that cannot keep up with us. I am not a hero. I am a Spartan. We signed up to become monsters to fight monsters, you whimpering idiot. I cleared out an entire building of rebel scumbags myself, while you could not handle a couple of squads of poorly trained foot soldiers".
 
Ryne turned the tables, and began getting in his teammate’s face. "The Covenant will not be this easy to fight when we face them. So, get your shit together and wake up. This is war, and in this war, we do what we must to win,” barked Ryne, with a little more bass in his voce.
Ryne them shoved past both Spartans, brushing their shoulders aggressively, and began to make his way out of the compound. As he walked to front gate entrance, Ryne came across the Captain’s body, sitting up on the concrete roadblock with blood slowly pooling around him. Ryne took a glance at the body, and the Captain’s blank, lifeless expression staring back at him.
 
“At least you died with dignity, Captain.”
 
Ryne continued his walk and he turned to see his two Spartans still back in courtyard, gossiping with each other. Annoyed, Ryne opened their comms to relay to their next orders for the Mamore operation. “You two can whine about me later. We have our orders from command, and we still have more crap to complete. So, hurry up, I’m not waiting for you.” said Ryne over the COM. The two Spartans looked at each other in angered resignation, and then proceeded to follow Ryne out of the ravaged embassy compound.
 
The trio of Spartans walked into the streets of the crumbling city, disappearing into the shadows of rubble and debris, as they moved on to their next task.
===Chapter 4===
As the night set in on the planet and the sky turned black sprinkled with stars, a green-armored figure armed with a silenced M392 DMR and a silenced M7 submachine on his left thigh, and a silenced M6 SOCOM pistol on his right thigh, quietly scaled the black, ashy hillside, ravaged by craters and consumed by the black dirt and ash from a battle long over. As this Spartan reached the top, he quietly laid on his belly on the peak of hill, pulling out his binoculars to scan the valley below.
 
Through his binoculars, the Spartan got a good look of his objective: a Covenant Forward Operating Base, a boxed outpost nestled between a cavernous valley, surrounded by cut down trees, craters, and burning UNSC vehicles and armor. Through his greenish binoculars, the green-armored Spartan could see the Covenant outpost, guarded by Shade turrets and sniper towers, was housing a repair bay, an armory, methane silos, and a command bunker, while dozens of Covenant warriors wandered the outpost. Somewhere in that hive of alien warriors was the Spartan’s target: a split-jaw commander that was integral to ground operations for the Covenant invasion force on New Constantinople. It was not just his target; it was his prey, his obsession, his first taste of Covenant blood.
 
“No baggage, No Rules. It's so f'n perfect." Ryne thought to himself as he put his binoculars away.
 
Several days ago, Ryne and Alpha Company had been deployed to New Constantinople to repel a Covenant invasion. However, Ryne was sent out on his own this time. Mamore had shown his superiors that the young Spartan showed promise, with his intense drive and his borderline-obsessive determination to accomplish his mission, not to mention to being a “helluva shot”.
 
However, his anti-social behavior reared its ugly head again, and was criticized by his own Spartan brethren during debrief for his selfish acts that put them in unnecessary danger and got UNSC troopers killed. In response, Ryne was rotated out of his original team, and he was now tasked with a solo op on the colony: neutralize a Covenant field commander and gather any intelligence if possible.
 
Ryne could feel only ecstasy at this mission when he was told of it while on the cruiser for his briefing.
 
It was something he waited for so long.
***
Two Sangheili warriors walked near the walls of their outpost, plasma rifles in hand, and loudly conversed and yelled, clearly annoyed at their posting. Suddenly, one of them stops in his tracks and signals for his fellow warrior to look forward, as he notices something in front of them. In front of them, a couple of Grunts and one of their Sangheili brethren were laying still on the ground, with holes in their heads as their blue blood and purple blood dripped out and mixed on the black dirt. With their weapons ready, they slowly backed away carefully as they scanned for threats.
 
Suddenly, a device fell to their feet and emitted a pulse, knocking their shields out. Two muffled rounds zipped through air and into the back of their skulls, and the split-jawed alien warriors dropped to the ground, with their own set of holes in their head. Ryne, with his silenced DMR at the ready, stepped over their bodies, as he quickly looked around for any sentries. He quickly shoved his handy-work behind a Covenant barricade, and, hiding behind a purple defense barrier, the Spartan grabbed a quick lay of the land.
 
He could see the purplish command bunker, the center of the outpost, while similar-designed garage bay and armory flanked each side of the base. Near the armory, Ryne found a methane refinery, making a mental note of it. Now, all the Spartan needed to do was to kill the Elite and get out.
 
However, Ryne had something else in mind.
 
Peeking through a slit in the barrier, Ryne took aim with his DMR, focusing on the pair of Covenant guard towers overlooking the main entrance into the outpost. Through his scope, he could see two Jackals on each tower with their beam rifles, scanning the field in front of them.
 
Ryne held his breath and squeezed.
 
PFFFT….PFFFT
 
With the Jackal sentries out of the way, Ryne threw his DMR to the ground, with its use fulfilled and needing to be mobile, and pulled out his silenced SMG from his left thigh, giving it one last look over and then peeking out one last time. He could see roaming Covenant warriors, be it the alligator-like Elites, the Bulldog-faced Grunts, and the bird-like Jackals with their arm-held energy shields.
 
Ryne could barely contain his frenzy as he looked upon all these targets.
 
Ryne sprinted out of his cover and into the main grounds of the base, as he nailed the lax Grunts and Jackals, gathered behind some kind of maintenance area for their bulky purple tanks, dubbed Wraiths, with precise headshots from his silenced submachine gun. A couple of the Elites nearby heard the commotion, and rushed to the scenes.
 
As one of them turned the corner, only to be greeted with a combat knife jammed in his throat, as Ryne quickly shot bursts into his fellow Sangheili that was caught stunned in its tracks. As the bullets drained the alien’s energy shields, Ryne charged forward unloading his entire clip, which he quickly dropped to pull out his sidearm. With the Sangheili’s shields now gone, Ryne placed his pistol into the alien’s mouth, and pulled the trigger.
 
The Sangheili crumpled to the ground, and Ryne holstered his sidearm and recovered his M7, loading in a fresh magazine. Ryne scanned the area around him, looking to see if he had attracted attention.
 
No alerted movement he could pick up, both visually and on his sensors. Ryne then slapped a C-10 explosive charge on the Wraith nearby, hiding it in the rear where it could not be easily spotted.
 
Jumping behind a Covenant platform, Ryne peeked over and noticed more Elites, Jackals, and Grunts gathering, as if they were about to be deployed into the field. They collected their weapons, and began to congregate with their lances.
 
Ryne slipped back into cover, his M7 ready and quick, violent crank of his neck. Behind his visor, Ryne closed his eyes, and his thoughts drifted back to Arcadia and that fateful day. He could see it all, including the Elite holding his mother by the neck, as he plunged his blade into her.
 
“Payback’s a bitch.”
 
Ryne ran out of the cover and the base grounds, lobbing one of his disruptor devices in the air and firing his M7 at the first pairs of Grunts and Jackals he saw, unable to react to the sight before them as they dropped to the ground.
 
As the device went off in the mid-air, the few Elites nearby were stunned and their energy shields disabled. Before the split-jaws could even react and fire their plasma weapons, several bullets had already burrowed into their skulls.
 
Ryne stepped over their bodies, like a shadow over the earth, He moved and fired, never hesitating, never stopping. He moved cover-to-cover, using the Covenant barriers and vehicles to his advantage; quickly striking down his unaware and stunned alien foes. It was as if the Spartan was in trance. The Covenant warriors, confused and disorientated at the silent chaos around them, were not sure what was attacking them as their fellow warriors fell before them, before joining them on the floor.
 
The outpost quickly turned into disarray. The Elites barked orders and commands, only for them to fall silent, as Ryne jammed his knife into their throats and emptying entire clips of his SMG into their bodies. Grunts were in a panic, which only made it easier for Ryne to quickly break their necks and lodge bullets into their tiny skulls. The Jackals tried to retreat, only to be met with bullets in their backs and stomps on their bodies.
 
Several minutes passed, and the base, once busy with activity, fell under a hush, as alien corpses strewn across the base grounds. Out from the command center, a lance of Elites, wearing shiny red armor and armed with plasma rifles and energy swords, emerged to the sight before them, befuddled at what they were seeing.
 
Inside the command bunker, a golden-armored Elite waited alone behind his holo-table, with his Energy sword ready. The alien watched the doors shut behind his bodyguards, and a deafening silence emerged.
 
The silence hardly lasted.
 
The Sangheili commander could suddenly hear silent, but piercing buzzing, plasma fire, and the painful cries of his dying bodyguards, muffled by the door between them. The Elite quickly jumped in front of the holo-table, his sword at the ready, and waited for whatever was going to come through that door.
 
The doors slid open and a green-armored figure entered, with two weapons in hand; an M7 SMG and a charged-up plasma pistol scavenged from a Grunt, with a green light pulsating at the muzzle.
 
Before the Sangheili could charge, Ryne quickly fired the plasma pistol off, discharging a large green bolt at the Elite, draining its shield and stunning him. Ryne then aimed his M7 at the knees of his target, firing two quick bursts into each limb.
 
The Elite fell to the ground, screaming in pain, as he dropped his energy sword at the Spartan’s feet.
 
Ryne came over to the writhing Elite, picking him up and violently throwing him to the holo-table. He took his knife out of the sheath on his shoulder, pressing it on the Elite’s mandibles, the alien’s eyes staring into the yellow visor in front of him.
 
“Now, we’re going to have a little chat. Just you and me.”
***
Marching out of the Covenant encampment, dragging his barely-conscious alien prisoner, now missing a pair of mandibles from the left side of his jaw, behind him, Ryne put some distance between him and the base and both scaled a small mound overlooking the now-desolate outpost.
 
Ryne sat his prisoner, who was exhausted and in pain from their little “chat”, upright, in the direction of the base resting at the bottom of charred and cut-down valley, and jerked his head upwards to gaze on his fallen stronghold. Ryne then immediately pulled out a small, cylinder-like device, with a red button on the top.
 
“Hey, stay awake, split-jaws. I want you to get a good look at this." Ryne, now facing the site, coldly remarked as he held the device in one hand, while keeping the Elite’s head up with the other. Ryne then pressed on the button hard with his thumb.
 
A series of explosions went off inside the encampment, as Covenant vehicles and buildings violently burst into flames, the surrounding walls broken apart. The methane silos blew apart as the charges went off. Suffocating fires consumed the bodies of the fallen alien warriors inside. More charges were set by Ryne around the outpost exploding, setting off other explosive material present in their caches. The Elite could only watch in shame, as his entire base became a flaming graveyard of his fallen warriors.
 
Ryne turned to look at the Elite kneeling before, bleeding and eyes filled with despair as he watched the burning site before him. Behind his visor, Ryne did something he had not done since he was kid camping out with his father, exploring the jungles of Arcadia.
 
He smiled.
 
Ryne then crouched down, yanking the Elite’s head to face him, as held his knife close to his neck. “Take a good look, split-jaws. Not only is this the last thing you are going to see, know that this is what is going to happen to your Covenant, your people. They will all burn and suffer, just like what you did to my people, to my family.”
 
The Elite sounded off a low growl, as he mustered up enough energy to spit purple blood on his visor. Ryne wiped it off, looking at the liquid in his hand.
 
“Oh, defiant, aren’t ya? This is going to make this all the more sweeter.” said Ryne as he began to press his combat knife into the alien’s throat, with the Elite’s eyes turning from bravery into fear within seconds.
 
The crackling night air was now filled with the screams of a dying alien and the violent sounds of flesh and bone being ripped apart.
***
A lone Warthog rumbles through the mud and ash on a dirt road, bypassing several burnt out Scorpions and Warthogs, with the bodies of dead Marines and Covenant aliens scattered about the valley. Two SPI-armored Spartans, one driving and one operating the heavy machinegun turret on the rear, keep a watchful eye for Covenant ambushers hiding amongst the wreckage. “How long till we get to the extraction point, Rosenda?” yelled the Spartan operating the gun turret, watching the road around him, searching for potential ambushers.
 
“Two mikes, Thom.” responded the driver. The Warthog rumbled on the dirt road, as the wheels rolled over the blackened dirt and ash that had consumed the entire valley after a clash of UNSC and Covenant armor in the opening hours of the invasion. As the vehicles climb over a small hill, a burning Covenant encampment comes into view, the indigo-colored walls boxing rampant flames that lit the entire basin.
 
As the Warthog slowly lurched closer to the site, Rosenda spots a lone Spartan sitting on a mound nearby; holding something in his hand, dripping some kind of liquids The Warthog comes to stop, resting near the mound. The Spartan duo quickly dismount from the vehicle, and slowly make their approach to the Spartan on the top of the mound, with his back still turned to them as he gazed upon the ravaged Covenant outpost.
 
“A064? Ryne?” asked Rosenda, as she stopped in her tracks.
 
“Took you long enough,” responded Ryne. Then, the Spartan turned around to face his fellow Alpha Company Spartans, where they found out what Ryne was holding in his left hand, while he gripped his DMR in his right.
 
“Goddamn,” muttered Thom as he was caught off guard by what his fellow Spartan was clutching.
 
Being held in Ryne’s hand was the severed, bloodied head of a Sangheili, with his mandibles on his jaws missing, as blood dripped from the stumps left behind on his head. The dead eyes told the whole story to the two Spartans: The Elite’s final moments were nothing but pure suffering for it. Ryne slowly walked down the mound, as he held his trophy, and walked right past the duo without uttering a single word to them. Thom and Rosenda glanced at each other, with the same thoughts about their compatriot running through their heads.
 
“Crazy Bastard.”
 
Ryne jumped in the passenger seat, placing the Elite’s head at his feet and readying his DMR. He looked back at the two Spartans who were following behind him, flicking his head to tell them to hurry up without uttering a word. With Thom getting back on the gun, Rosenda jumped back into the driver seat, but not before seeing the Elite’s bloodied head nestled in floor of the passenger side, a small purplish puddle forming underneath. '“Gross,” muttered Rosenda as she grabbed the wheel, and pressed on the pedal hard. The Warthog sped off from a ravaged, war-torn valley.
 
It was a quiet ride.
Laying on his belly on top of a steel kitchen table in abandoned dining, Ryne looked through the scope of his scratched SRS99-AM sniper rifle he requisitioned from base camp, surveying the surroundings outside from the second floor of a dormitory. The Spartan was using an abandoned kiva building as his sniper nest, overlooking the low grasslands, illuminated by a sun with little clouds blocking it. Through his scope, Ryne could see the purple embers of three destroyed Wraiths, and the bodies of split-jaw and bird-like aliens laying on the grass, bodies riddled with large holes from 14.5×114mm ammunition from his sniper rifle. Even after his night ambush ended a few hours ago, Ryne remained on the table, patient and waiting for his next victims to arrive over the hills he was watching closely.
 
After his mission a few weeks ago, Ryne had been deployed into Covenant-held territory on the planet, providing sniper support for UNSC counter-offensive operations, reconnaissance, and even calling in artillery and air strikes on Covenant positions. Ryne finally felt he was where he needed to, in his element. No one to hold him down, no one whining like on Mamore, and no one telling him how to do his job. Most of all, nothing in his way to get his payback. 
It was all just perfect
 
Ryne let out a yawn under his helmet and laid his rifle down, jumping from the table. He had not slept much in the last forty-eight hours. He had been roaming the forested region, hunting down aliens and scouting their positions. He was too busy cutting down lances of patrolling Covenant warriors with his sniper rifle to rest, and he watched with satisfaction as artillery and air strikes he called in ripped apart alien bodies and vehicles. The entire experience was cathartic for the Spartan, and a part of him hoped it never ended. As Ryne began to stretch, a voice came over his comms piece in his bulbous SPI helmet.
 
“Alpha 8-4, this is Blackbird, how copy?” said a male voice over the radio.
 
“This is Alpha, go ahead Blackbird.”
 
“Orders came down from up top; you’re being pulled from your assignment. A Marine squad is en route to relieve you of your post and to escort you back to base; they are about ten to fifteen mikes out.”
 
“New tasking?” Ryne asked disconcertingly.
 
“Negative, you’re going off-planet. You are done here.”
 
Ryne was even more confused, stunned at this new development. He quickly ran through his head for possible reasons for this sudden change. He could not come up with one that made sense.
Why me? I did my job, what could've I done wrong to pull me out?
 
Ryne grinded his teeth in anger, not sure what reason he was being pulled. Even as the battle turned in favor of the UNSC, there were still more Covenant animals to send to hell, and he was doing a damn good job in hastening their arrival to the afterlife. Ryne went to the steel table to pick up his sniper rifle, as he angrily yanked it off the table surface; he glanced outside towards the grassy hills in front of them. He noticed the familiar blue tint of armor approaching the dirt road. Ryne approached the window that he had been using as a lookout, and looked through the scope of his rifle to get a better look.
 
Sure enough, it was a lance of Elites, armed with plasma rifles and carbines and donned in their traditional armor. Ryne watched as they approached their decimated armor column, inspecting their comrades’ corpses and the destroyed Wraiths lined up in front of them.
 
Ryne quickly crouched down, and rested his rifle on the window with the barrel poking out and the bipod resting on the windowsill as Ryne positioned himself to take out the hinge-heads. The Spartan looked through his high-powered scope, zooming in on the gaggle of split-jaws in front of him. Ryne picked out their leader, red-armored Elite with his purple alien carbine, communicating with his underlings as he barked orders at them. With a giddy smirk creeping on his face, Ryne squeezed the trigger.
 
BANG
 
The loud crack of his rifle reverberated throughout the building, and Ryne watched as the bullet went through Sangheili’s chest, a small fountain of bluish blood spurting from the hole. The Elite sank to his knees, before keeling over face first on the dirt. The other Elites tried to dive away, and blindly returned fire in Ryne’s general direction.
 
BANG…BANG…BANG
 
Three of them dropped to the ground, with their skulls splintered by high-velocity rounds. The lone surviving Elite, realizing he was next, began to run from the scene. Ryne, after ejecting the box magazine, loaded in a fresh mag, and refocused his aim on the fleeing Elite. Ryne watched as the Elite climbed the hillside, trying to disappear over the peak. Ryne could not help but let out a chuckle, as he could see how panicked this supposed fierce alien warrior. He watched his kind slaughter his mother and many others on Arcadia, arrogant monsters prideful in their handiwork.
 
Now, Ryne was their monster, their boogeyman, and he relished every moment of it.
 
As the Elite reached the top of the hill, about to cross the threshold into safety on the other side of the hillside, a bullet burst out of his skull, blood and bone splinters spraying all over the grass. Looking through his scope Ryne watched the body flopped down, and tumbled back down to the base of the hill.
 
Hearing the distant rumbling of Warthogs get closer, Ryne stood up and hoisted his rifle over his shoulder, as he took one last glance at the grassy plains before leaving the dining room and climbing down the stairs to the ground floor.
Behind his gold visor, Ryne snarled as he stepped outside, greeted by a bright sun and a couple of Warthogs pulling up on the kiva, as a couple of Marines dismounted to meet him.
 
“This better be good.”
 
Within the small armory inside a UNSC Halcyon-class cruiser orbiting New Constantinople, Ryne, still wearing his green SPI armor sans the helmet, was sitting by a metal desk, as a couple of armorers walked by him, inspecting the arsenal and taking inventory. He fiddled with his hands nervously, waiting for his visitor, worrying about why he was pulled from the operation.
 
“Fuck, I did everything I was supposed to. What do they want? It’s not like I got in any one’s way, if anything, it’s more the other way around.”
 
Ryne, annoyed by this inconvenience, glanced around the armory, seeing small arms racked cases of ammunition, and the occasional UNSC armorer moving past him doing their dull jobs. He was beyond furious that Alpha Company and other UNSC forces were securing final victory, while he was sitting on a cruiser for a "meeting".
"Bullshit is what this is..."
Suddenly, the metal doors of the room slid open, splitting to reveal an older man, scarred with weathered gray hair, and wearing some kind black naval uniform that he had never seen before.
 
“A064?”
 
Ryne, recognizing a possible superior in his presence, stood up at attention and faced the man before him.
 
As the officer approached, the Spartan got a better look at the gentleman officer, his eyes small but also fierce. A crooked nose and a bush of a mustache were definite attention-grabbers. It was clear this man had seen battle, and survived a carousel of carnage and brutality in his lifetime. 
Ryne's anger morphed into anxiety, feeling this was something more than he initially thought.
 
“So, you’re the Spartan that Ackerson told me about, told me that you were a real killer”. said the elderly officer, slowly pacing around him, inspecting the SPI armor.
 
“I’m whatever the UNSC needs me to be, sir”, responded Ryne in a stilted voice, his eyes focused on the wall in front of him.
 
“You sound young, but field reports and debriefs tell me you’re already a vet in combat.”
 
The old man looked up to the blonde kid in front of him, and looked into his brown eyes. He could clearly tell that the Spartan was a pissed off young man, wanting to be anywhere but here. He wanted to be back on New Constantinople, killing any Covenant in his sight.
 
“Perfect.”
 
The old man pulled out a cigarette, placing it in his lips as he lit it up with a cylindrical lighter.
 
“You’re not in trouble, quite the opposite actually.”
 
Ryne, for the first time, looked at the grizzled officer standing before him, his words catching his attention. The old man began to pace around again, this time watching the Spartan's very closely.
 
“You’re a Spartan, but with your battlefield IQ, your drive, and that talent as a sniper, you could be so much more. However, that only happens when you shed your skin”.
 
“Sir?” asked Ryne, unsure what direction this conversation was going.
 
“Spartan, how would you like to fight this war in whatever way you see fit. No rules, no limitations, and armed with the latest of military hardware and weapons. How would you like to become a terrifying ghost story that keeps the Covenant up at night?”
 
Ryne's eyes flashed with excitement, tantalized at what he was being offered before him.
 
“Sir, you have no idea how much I wanted to hear that,” replied a subdued Ryne with a slight tone of glee so palpable that the officer was once again reminded that he was speaking to a child.
 
A child made for war.
 
The officer took one last whiff of his cigarette before throwing to the steel floor, and stomping on it. He looked up to the Spartan in front of him, seeing a child-like smirk steadily crawl across his face. The officer stuck his hand out for a shake, which the Spartan quickly obliged as gripped the officer's hand firmly.
 
“Well then, welcome to the Office of Naval Intelligence, Spartan.”
***
The collective hooves of two Sangheili warriors stomped their way up to a hilltop, overlooking the burning remnants of their encampment, observing fire and smoke rising out from the boxed outpost. An Elite, adorned in white, sleek armor turned to his nearby acquaintance, who was wearing his dark, red armor, with blue streaks on his headwear.
“What could’ve done this, Dyzo? An entire garrison was wiped out, and no human filth has been found thus far”, seethed the red-armored Elite, each word intensified by his anger. “Did our brothers just lay down and die? The Unggoy and Kig-Yar are not the same level of warrior as us, but this resembles more a slaughter than a battle.”
The white armored Elite, Dyzo ‘Konaree, as he was called, looked out to the decimated outpost, his comrade’s words echoing as those same thoughts ran through his head. All of sudden, a Blue-armor appeared behind them, its head lowered as he approached its superiors.
“We have found Field Marshal Zeva ‘Solmee.” stated the Elite, with both Elites staring back and attentively listening to the report being relayed. “He has perished, and his corpse so mutilated, we can only identify through his armor and garb that he was wearing.”
“Mutilated, how?” snapped the Sangheili Zealot, rage radiating through his growl. The blue-armored Elite kept its head down, avoiding the wrathful gaze of his superior. “The Marshal’s fingers have been broken, lacerations across his torso, arms are also broken, and…”
Silence fell over, and Dyzo took notice, as he could sense fear and anxiety in his subordinate’s body language. “It is fine, brother. Tell us.” said Vel in a calming tone.
“Zevaee’s head is gone, taken it seems as we cannot find it. The Marshal’s headless corpse was also found on its knees, as if it was propped up like we were supposed to find it.”
The Zealot Elite roared in anger, turning his energy sword on as he kicked the dirt up with a swift swing.
“Calm yourself, Ossva.”
“This is an outrage! How could such a dishonor happen to Zeva!” screamed Ossva, switching off his energy blade as he began to compose himself. 
“I don’t know, Ossva," Dyzo sullenly responded. "But we must steel ourselves and learn from this. Humans are not to be underestimated, we've seen how they fight.”
“Yes, like savage animals who will stoop to whatever low and dishonorable tactic that will only delay the inevitable.”
Ossva paced around, as Dyzo, glistening in his white armor, observed the ruins of their outpost. Both Dyzo and Ossva with their forces were enroute from the frontlines, having destroyed a human armored column and slaughtered their grenadiers with their energy swords, only for them to spot smoke rising from the location of their forward base over the horizon during their return journey. Both Elites and their lances double their pace, riding their elongated, bulbous Shadow troop transports and their sleek, winged, insect-like Ghosts rushed across the ashen plains to the outpost.
They were too late.
Marshal Zek ‘Zevaee, a respected commander and a friend to both, was now dead and his corpse mutilated and desecrated. The garrison was wiped out, commander center and communications station destroyed, and their munitions and vehicles burning brightly. A total loss.
“We need to search for the humans who did this. They must pay, Dyzo. I will organize a–”
“No,” a deep voice came over from behind. Both Ossva and Dyzo turned to see a Sangheili commander, draped in his gold harness and his arms behind his back. Both Sangheili warriors kneeled in his presence. 
”Field Master ‘Lodamee.” Dyzo stated. “We did not expect that you were here. A thousand apologies.”
“Rise, my brothers. I’ve come to relay new orders. A retreat is underway, pull your lances back to the next phase line.”
“What?!” Ossva blurted out, as Dyzo slightly cringed at the angry outburst by his long-time comrade. Ossva was a fierce warrior, faithful to the gods, but he had one weakness; his short temper. Dyzo counted himself lucky that Ossva considered him a friend since childhood, because being an enemy to someone like Ossva and his family ensured a short lifespan.
“We’re retreating?! The human filth has dishonored us, and we are retreating. What kind of here–.”
“Stay your tongue, Ossva,” yelled Dyzo, stopping Ossva from finishing his sentence.
“The humans have sent in their demons, and our forces are taking heavy casualties. We cannot hold this line. Not to mention, we’ve lost vital commanders, like Zek, and our ground forces are in disarray. I would not be surprised if it was a Demon’s work that destroyed the redoubt here and killed Zek. We must regroup.”
“Demons…”
Both Ossva and Dyzo had heard tales of these “demons, green-armored behemoths that cut through their forces with no mercy. They weren’t unkillable, but they were dangerous. The two Elites had never faced them, only their regular forces. However, it was inevitable that a bloody confrontation with these “demons” was coming.
Ossva craved it, while Dyzo steeled his mind for it. A battle that would truly test them.
“For now, retreat. The fleetmaster and I will discuss our next move.”
The commander disappeared, as the holodrones dropped to the ashen ground below, falling at Dyzo’s feet. Dyzo picked them up, and placed him on his waist. Dyzo turned to Ossva, who was still seething at his new orders.
“Brother, we will have our chance. Do not despair. Time is on our side. The humans will have nowhere to go.”
Ossva sighed, glancing at his childhood friend, noticing the optimistic eyes that he always possessed since they trained together back on Sanghelios. It always annoyed him, but, at the same time, it did reassure him.
“I know, Dyzo. When we get our chance, the demons that did this will pay. Zek and his warriors will be avenged. Nothing will stop our path to transcendence.” 
Ossva clasped Dyzo’s hand firmly, sharing a strong handshake as the Elites stood on the mound, with the flames of the Covenant redoubt now rising after finding another ammunition stockpile to ignite. Ossva and Dyzo began to walk down the hill, where their Zealot and Infantry lances awaited them, prepared for their next orders. Ossva turned back to Dyzo as they walked back to their lances, placing a fist on his chest as they separated. 
===Chapter 5===
In the lit-up bay of a Prowler, amidst the technicians and the engineers walking about, a lone, helmetless Spartan was standing near a docked Pelican, clad in his new;y-issued black MJOLNIR Mark IV ZACHARIAS armor, was quietly and quickly loading 14.5×114mm HVAP high-velocity armor-piercing rounds into a cartridge for his dark gray SRS99-AM sniper rifle laying on a steel desk nearby, next to his Zacharias helmet that was staring at the back of its owner. From where he stood, the Spartan exuded intense energy, as the ship’s personnel avoided his pathway as they carried on their duties.
“Gotta double check my sidearm after this. Check my reserve ammo, and sync my COM unit. I’ll try to squeeze in another set of push-ups before the final check.” 
Ryne has been of a one-track mind ever since he woke up from Cryosleep nearly eight hours ago. He did nothing but workout and inspect his weapons before his briefing, and he resumed the same routine afterwards. The Spartan was filled with eager and intense energy for this mission, a true test for him.
After his deployment into New Constantinople, Ryne was met by a representative of the Office of Naval Intelligence, who had been observing and evaluating his actions on Mamore and New Constantinople. Ryne was separated from Alpha Company and shipped to a specialized training facility on the far side of Onyx, his “old home”. For the last seven months, Ryne had undergone supervised specialized combat training and field exercises, where his talents as a marksman and infiltrator were honed and sharpened. 
Now, he was on his first mission under the shadows of ONI. This was to be his initiation, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the title of “Headhunter”. 
“A064, nice to see you. Looking the part of a real killer.” A raspy, deep voice called out, and Ryne turned to face the familiar voice he knew all too well. 
“Commander Kallas.”
The heavily-scarred face of Markko Kallas was the first thing Ryne eyes gazed on, skin bleached and he could see the burns and long cuts that covered his mouth and neck. The sight revolted Ryne, just like it had before when he laid eyes on him the first time back on Onyx. Ryne noticed that Kallas was now in his black combat BDU, clear to him that the ONI “boogeyman” was also going out in the field.
“Are you joining me, Commander?” Ryne calmly asked, dreading the answer.
“Oh no, Spartan. I have my own mission on Codas. It’s really a shame, I really wanted to see you work, especially wanted to see you apply my lessons on the field. Alas, I’m afraid business with the Innies comes first.”
Ryne stopped himself from sighing in relief, and kept his rigid and stoic body language in check.
“Shame indeed, Commander.”
Kallas looked upon the black-armored Spartan, noticing his sleek OPERATOR helmet with its gold visor. It was clean and pristine, and the disfigured ONI agent wondered what it would like after the Spartan returned from the mission. 
“Just wanted to say, Ryne, that I hope you remember your training on Onyx and how I taught you that nothing is out of bounds, especially in a fight for survival.”
“I doubt I can ever forget what you did to me, Commander.” Kallas only chuckled, detecting a small hint of vitriol in the Spartan’s words.
“Good. Best of luck, Spartan. Remember that a Headhunter's best tool is his intuition, never let anything else cloud your judgment.”
Kallas sharply turned and walked away from Ryne, waltzing to a nearby Pelican dropship, where a small group of black-armored Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were gathered, checking their own weapons and gear. There was no doubt they were attached to whatever shit Kallas had going on. 
Ryne focused back on his weapons, as he checked the sights on his silenced pistol. Ryne could never forget Kallas’s “special training”, how to physically and psychologically break someone and how far you could take it. He also knew how to endure thanks to him, thinking about all those rainy, sleepless nights inside a rusty cage during the resistance to interrogation testing. The beatings, the insults, and everything in between made him stronger .Ryne was grateful for it, it prepared him for what was to come and what to do.
It didn’t mean Ryne wasn’t going to try to put a bullet in his skull when he could.
As he dropped down for a set of push-ups, Ryne lost himself in thought, thinking of all the ways he would kill his target. Would he break every bone in his body? Shove the muzzle of his gun down its throat? Maybe gutting the hingehead would work?
The Spartan’s bloodlust had grown, ever since he learned about Alpha Company’s complete annihilation a couple months back. He learned how those Spartans fought to the last man as they successfully destroyed a Covenant shipyard. He never had any close ties with his fellow trainees, but he respected the fact they were willing to lay down lies for the cause. Ryne remembered how he felt in that moment, sitting in his quarters as he cleaned his DMR during training on Onyx, telling the ONI trainer that “it was a good way to go, taking as many of the alien bastards as you get dragged down to hell. Hope that’s how I go out, too.”
It was no longer just about getting revenge for his parents and friends on Arcadia, it became more than that. Ryne was driven to punish the Covenant for their wanton slaughter of innocents and soldiers for many years, making them suffer and beg before snuffing their lives out. Simply put, he wanted his pound of flesh.
Ryne hastened the pace of his push-ups, getting more and more heated in his thoughts, imagining the kind of suffering he was going to inflict. He could feel some sweat drip from his forehead, as drops crashed on the steel floor below/
The only thing that was on his mind was leaving a mountain of alien corpses in his wake.
With the night sky illuminated by the stars, a coastal, desert cliffside was rife with activity, where a Covenant outpost sat menacingly on top of the cliff, smooth, purple walls formed a box-like encampment and the entrance protected by a plasma barrier that led inside. Outside of the Covenant fort and into the desert flatlands below, parolling Elites, Jackals, and Grunts roamed around the rocky sands, surrounded by small, but dense shrubs, and sets of boulders lying about, as the Covenant warriors walked around without much care. The area was lit up by Covenant light staff and work lights spread out across the flatland.
The floating platforms of Covenant watchtowers and barricades were also scattered about the desert flatlands below the cliffside, alongside of several purple canopies of huts for the use of Covenant warriors that were assigned to this outpost, moving and inspecting supplies while constructing devices and fortifications around the area.
The hot, night air seemed to bother the Covenant warriors, as they seemingly grumbled and bickered over their posting. Heavily-armored, bulbous, purple Wraith tanks were leading and flanking convoys of broadly arch-shaped Shadow troop transports with plasma turrets manned on top, and some unfamiliar Covenant transports, shaped like a giant barrel-bodied beetle with a bulbous head. The Covenant armor and transports rumbled on the main road leading and out of the Covenant outpost that sat atop the coastal cliffs, the dirt pathway was zig-zagged and lit up by lights staffs placed by Covenant warriors. 
With his sniper rifle latched onto his back, Ryne watched all this activity through his binoculars, kneeling atop a ridge that gave him a good overview of the area below. He zoomed in on the Covenant outpost, scanning for a quiet way inside the Covenant compound at the top, getting an obstructed view of the purple walls and the Covenant engravings and patterns on it.
“The HVT is likely with the walls of that Covenant base, gotta get inside without notice.”
Ryne’s mission was simple: Infiltrate a Covenant outpost on the planet of Codas, and eliminate a high-ranking Covenant Sangheili General, who was responsible for the ground invasions of two other human colonies that fell, and the complete annihilation of various UNSC Army and Marine battalions during those battles. 
Simple, but not easy.
The desert, arid world of Codas was defended by depleted UNSC forces who were fending off Insurrectionist militias that moved in to claim the desert world, but a Covenant fleet arrived in system and had begun engaging the remaining human forces in increasingly one sided battle, seemingly wanting to claim the planet instead of glassing it for reasons unknown.
The Sangheili General that Ryne was sent to neutralize was deployed, alongside his legions of warriors, on the arid planet. establishing a base of operations on the coastlines of Codas to lead his current ground campaign. The Elite would likely be well-guarded, and can only be reached by venturing into the hornet’s nest. He could wait it out with his sniper rifle, take his dome off from a distance and disappear into the desert like a ghost. However, there was no guarantee the HVT would pop his ugly face tonight, and he was on a timer to get this done before the sun rose on Codas. 
“Besides, where was the fun in that?”
Satisfied with his survey of the terrain, Ryne put his binoculars away, now arming himself with a silenced sidearm. The Spartan ran down a dirt slope into the sandy flatlands, crouching down as he used the small shrubs and boulders to move in closer and closer. As he took cover behind a small set of boulders, Ryne spotted two Jackals, their shield gauntlets activated, walking ahead of him, backs turned to him.
Two quick shots in their bird skulls put them down, and Ryne continued his approach to the cliffside.
After finding cover behind a Covenant supply crate near the dirt road that led up the cliffside, Ryne peered over and caught a glimpse of a Ghost leading a couple of Shadow transports out of the encampment. As they passed by, the Spartan noticed two Covenant guard towers on each side of the main road, each occupied by a red-armored Elite armed with their purple Carbines.
Ryne slid his pistol back on his thigh, unslung his MA37 Assault Rifle, equipped with a silencer. Keeping his eyes on the inattentive hinge-heads, Ryne moved through a ditch next to the road that kept him in the shadows and made him difficult to spot.
“Hmpf, those alligators are gonna regret sleeping on the job.”
Ryne would’ve killed those Elites in a heartbeat six months ago. Now, if there was one thing that his Headhunter training taught him, it was that timing was everything.
As he got past the towers, Ryne came across a series of small Covenant huts, finding several Grunts sleeping and a couple of Elites standing around and conversing. It paid to be deep behind enemy lines, since no one really expects a fight so far from the frontlines. Using the purple crates and barricades, Ryne slipped from cover to cover to avoid being spotted, making his way past the huts without alerting the aliens to his presence.
The Spartan also noticed piles of plasma batteries scattered about in piles alongside the road and huts. He could even make small dumps of explosive Covenant munitions that were carelessly scattered about campgrounds and roadside.
“Hmm, might come in handy.”
As he moved along the darkened road past the huts, Ryne lurched his way past the Jackal sentries on the floating platforms of Covenant watchtowers. Ryne steadied his aim with his MA37 assault rifle, watching the Jackals’ movements as he moved past the floating platforms. As Ryne looked towards the winding dirt road ahead leading up the cliffside, he realized that following the current pathway was a dangerous risk, and he could be spotted easily by following the road. Too many sentries, and the road ahead was illuminated by Covenant light staffs.
Ryne then noticed something as he observed the pathway. The Spartan found rocky ledges he could scale that could cut through the roadways, and get him to the top of the coastal cliff quickly and without much hassle. However, he had to be quick, as the Covenant lights still illuminated the shortcut. 
Ryne vaulted the first ledge, making his way up to the roadway up, and dashed across when a nearby Elite sentry turned away from his gaze. Ryne pressed up on the ledge, trying to blend into the darkness not illuminated by light staffs. As he began to climb the next ledge up, Ryne found himself just below a Jackal, both making eye contact at the same time.
“Shit, where’d you come from?!”
Ryne grabbed the Jackal’s leg, dragged him over the edge before he could fire off his plasma pistol.With Jackal on the ground, Ryne bludgeoned the alien with the butt of his assault rifle repeatedly, until it stopped moving after caving in his entire face. He forgot how good it felt to bash an alien skull in, as Ryne could feel a rush come over as he looked over the dead Jackal’s crushed head. However, that rushed left as soon as it came. Ryne refocused on climbing the ledge, after he kicked the Jackal’s corpse into bushes to hide his handiwork. Vaulting over, he resumed his trek and repeated the same action until he finally reached the cliffside.
As he climbed over the last ledge, Ryne found himself in front of the Covenant outpost, the purple, smooth rounded walls right in front of him. He turned to his right, where the only way inside was a gateway that was blocked by an energy barrier. Approaching the barrier, Ryne looked around for a way inside.
He wasn’t going to scale the walls due to its smooth surface, so he had to find a way through the barrier. It was risky to take the front door, but time was not on his side, expecting Covenant forces to return from their battles on this planet at any time. Ryne then noticed beyond the wall was an approaching Ghost followed by a Shadow transport closing in.
“Perfect.”
Ryne ran and pressed himself on the purple wall just next to the energy barrier, crouching down to avoid being seen. The energy barrier went down as the Ghost and Shadow exited the base, turning right into the roadway, and not noticing the Spartan hugging the wall on the left. As the Shadow exited, Ryne leaped over with a roll, and dove into the entranceway, narrowly avoiding the shield barrier as it came back on within seconds. 
Ryne, his silenced MA37 at the ready, entered into the outpost’s courtyard, and took cover behind another set of crates. Peeking in, Ryne found the Courtyard filled with parked Shadows and Ghosts, as Elites stood around while a few Grunts and Jackals sauntered around. He noticed small piles of plasma coils and the purple, bulbous crates scattered around, clearly the base was still unpacking and probably just finished construction.
He observed the purple, bulbous buildings within the compound, carefully observing the Covies that walked in and out, searching for the HVT.
“Where is the bastard? Show yourself…” Ryne whispered under his breath. The black armored Spartan was restless, but he held his cover, scanning the area patiently. “I ain’t got all day, you hing-”
Suddenly, from a squared, smooth purple building a gold-armored Elite emerged, flanked by two red-armored Elites. The golden split-jaw growled orders at some Grunts sleeping nearby, scaring them into carrying small crates into the building they just exited. Ryne found his target, and was also able to measure the troop strength within the Outpost.
“Let’s get to work.”
Realizing the two Elites near the Shadow transport were a danger to detecting him, Ryne aimed his MA37 rifle at the two bored Elites. It was risky, unsure if they’re shields were active, but the CQC method was even more dangerous, especially if he had to get closer while avoiding the other alien freaks.. Squeezing off two muffled bursts, the bullets flew into the Elites’ skulls, and both lifeless dropped under the shadow of the transport.
“No shields activated? Good.”
Ryne followed his target, using the vehicles and crates to avoid the gaze of Covenant warriors nearby. In the process, Ryne placed rounds into a few unaware Grunts who were in his path, and slit the thin necks of two Jackal snipers walking towards the nearby, empty Covenant guard tower, as they could possibly spot him from that angle .Suddenly, as the trio Elites walked into a nearby bunker, a trio of Blue-armored Elites appeared from around the corner of a building that housed a strange antenna-like object, likely their communication station.
Ryne realized the split-jaws were walking his way, and his cover behind a crate wasn’t going to cut it. He noticed an empty Covenant hut nearby, and quickly rushed his way inside, waiting for the hinge-heads to walk by. As he slid inside, however, Ryne was caught off-guard by what was in the hut, as he was met by three sets of eyes that gazed back at him.
Three sets of human eyes. 
“Hey, what, who are you?” asked a disheveled man in tattered clothes, on his knees with his hands bound by a glowing,blue ring of energy. Hiding in the shadows of the hut, Ryne saw three human prisoners held by energy shackles on their hands, two male and one female. The Spartan noticed the purple bruising, and burns on their faces and arms, their clothes ripped and tattered. He then looked around the hut, blood splattered across the walls and floor.
“Fuckin’ Covies.”
He noticed something else about these prisoners, no UNSC wear or dog tags on them, but their clothes showed something resembling military uniforms, all three were wearing vests and combat boots, and empty holsters for a sidearm. As he continued to look over them, Ryne spotted tattoos and partial markings on their clothes, with symbols that were only associated with a rebel group known as the Bandusa Group, which were detailed in Ryne’s briefing on the situation on Codas. 
“Ahh, good. They’re just traitors.”
Ryne looked back outside of the hut, seeing no sign of the Elites that walked by. The coast was clear and was ready to carry on, and the Spartan began to make his way out. “No, wait. Help us!” cried out the female prisoner, her left eye swollen shut and her upper lip cut. Ryne looked back and scoffed, ignoring her plea.
“Please, wait. Don’t leave us here! We can’t take it anymore!” cried another male prisoner. Ryne noticed the heightened volume on the prisoner’s pained voice, realizing he could be found out if they continued to make more commotion. Ryne looked out, and noticed a pair of Grunts taking notice of the sound, but blowing it off.
“Shit.”
Slinking back into the hut, Ryne approached the prisoners, as he reached down his thigh as he got close. The nearest male prisoner looked at him with relief.
“Oh, thank god. Hurry, before those Covena-”
A well-placed muffled shot in his forehead stopped the prisoner from finishing his sentence. Ryne then aimed the next shot at a confused male prisoner who just witnessed his cohort get domed, getting a round placed between his eyes. The lone female prisoner looked in horror, realizing what was happening.
“No! Wait! What are you doing?! Why won’t you save us?!” she whimpered, the rebel prisoner staring into the cold, yellow visor that aimed his silenced pistol towards her.
“Sorry, but you’re not worth saving.”
A silent pang filled the hut, and Ryne walked out of the now-empty structure as he continued his mission.
***
The quiet night sky was shattered by the looming thunderstorm off the coast, slowly making its way to the cliffside. A Covenant Sangheili General, flanked by his two subordinates, looked out to the coast, from the walkway on the outpost’s walls. It had been a quiet night for the Elite, calming to be frank. In his golden-colored combat harness, the Elite stood on the purple walkway, looking over the Indigo, hardened but smooth walls, and then the darkly beautiful ocean off the cliffside. A blue-armored Elite also observed the scene nearby watching his commander gaze out and lost in thought.
It was the last thing he would see as a knife was thrusted into the back of his head. The Elites body fell and was dragged off behind a purple, tall rounded box-shaped Comm node. One of the red-armored Elites looked back and noticed his subordinate was gone, and looked around for him only to find nothing. In fact, the Elite realized that the entire outpost was quiet, void of activity. No Grunts, Jackals, or Elites patrolling the compound.
Just silence.
The Sangheili Major quickly turned to his General to alert him of his concerns. However, he fell to the floor as a flurry of bullets struck him down. Hearing a thud and muffled sounds behind them, the Sangheili General and his accompanying Major looked back to see their fallen brother. Both tried to activate their shields, however, the Major was too late as another hail of bullets cut him down, as a black-armored human emerged from behind the nearby comm node. 
“Demon..” growled the Elite, as he drew his blue plasma rifles and fired them off at the Spartan.
At the same time, Ryne aimed his MA37, firing off the remaining rounds in his magazine at the Sangheili General while his shields ate several plasma bolts that crashed into his armor. With both warriors firing off their weapons, the Elite leaped off the walked away and into the courtyard, with the Spartan giving chase. Both traded volleys of fire as they used supply crates and parked Wraiths and Shadows to move around and avoid each other’s line of fire for the next several minutes. 
Taking cover behind a Covenant barricade, Ryne realized that the Covenant forces outside of the camp might’ve heard the commotion. “Gonna have to end this quickly” muttered Ryne, as he dropped his MA37 that had run dry from their firefight. The Sangheili popped out from behind a Wraith, firing his dual plasma rifles at the barricade where the Spartan was hiding, moving in closer as he fired.
The Elite reached the exposed flank of the barricade, only to find his target gone. Confused, the Elite let his guard down for a moment, as he tried to work out where his assassin went.
That moment was enough for Ryne.
The Spartan leaped over a purple Supply crate in front of the General, aiming his Sniper Rifle at the surprised Elite and squeezed the trigger. A loud crack reverberated throughout the entire outpost, as a 14.5×114mm armor-piercing round penetrated the Elite’s chest and knocked its shield out. The Elite fell back to the floor, as it tried to gasp for air and attempted to fire back. However, Ryne got to him quickly and kicked the weapon out of the alien’s hand.
Locking eyes with his target, seeing his unsure and pained yellow eyes. Ryne shoved the barrel into the Elite’s circular hole in its chest, causing it to cry out in pain. Ryne squeezed the trigger three more times, emptying his magazine and putting the HVT down for good. Standing over the carcass, Ryne reloaded his magazine and opened up the COM to the Battlenet.
“Hightower, this is Sierra Zero-Six-Four. Do you read?”
“Go ahead, Sierra”, a voice replied, in a professional and firm tone.
“HVT neutralized, requesting extraction on my location, primary exfil is likely compromised.:
“Roger that. A Pelican is on its way. ETA 15 mikes.”
“Fifteen minutes, huh?”
Ryne walked towards the nearby guard tower near the main entrance to the Outpost, scaling the ladder. As he reached the top, Ryne looked over the flatlands below, and realized he stirred up the hornet’s nest. Lances of Covenant warriors were gathering up, readying their weapons, while Elites were on the Comm Nodes, pressing and swiping on a keyboard extending from within the base of the node.
“I guess I’ll have some fun before I go.”
Ryne readied his Sniper rifle, and picked out his first targets. After finding a pair of Elites that were sitting on the watchtowers overlooking the road, the Spartan squeezed off two shots and watched the heads of those Elite violently burst open through his scope.. Those two shots ignited chaos, as Covenant forces below the cliff began to blindly fire at the outpost, unsure where the shooter was.
Crouching down in the guard tower, Ryne sniped off his targets with ease, as the desert flatlands barely had any cover for the Covenant troops to hide behind. Grunts and Jackals were taken down with ease by precise shots, as they wildly sprayed fire from their plasma pistols and needlers. The few Elites that survived the initial ambush took cover behind boulders and huts, firing blindly behind cover and peeking over to get a precise location of their sniper. They couldn’t. as Ryne was able to send rounds into the skulls of any Elite that showed as much as a mandible through his scope.
As Ryne fired off his last round in his mag, taking down the a Grunt before he reached a hut for cover, the Spartan looked up the horizon to the dirt roading leading out of the flatlands as he reloaded From the distance, Ryne could see a pair of Wraiths and a pair of Shadow transports rumbling down the road. 
“Good.” Ryne focused on the lead Wraith leading the pack of Covenant armor coming his way. He scoped down, and his crosshairs focused on the bundle of plasma batteries sitting on the side of the road. Patiently, Ryne watched the Wraith get closer to his convenient little trap, finger firm on the trigger.
As the Wraith reached the batteries, Ryne squeezed the trigger/ The bullet struck the batteries, setting off a large plasma explosive that tore into the Wraith, ripping into its armor and killing the Sangheili sitting on the Gunner position. The Wraith slowed, only for the Shadow Transport to crash behind it, setting off a violent explosion that destroyed the Wraith tank and blew the Shadow into pieces, killing the Covenant reinforcement sitting on its bay. The Wraith on the rear, pulled back, firing off its mortar cannon as it tried to retreat to a safer distance.
The blue balls of plasma failed to find their mark, falling well short of the Outpost. Ryne fired off his Sniper rifle, taking out the armored sheet covering the Sangheili driving the Wraith. Seeing his exposed head, Ryne fired off another round, and watched as the cockpit of Wraith was covered in an explosion of purple liquid as the Covenant tank grinded to a halt. As he reloaded another mag into his rifle, Ryne noticed more Covenant reinforcements were not far behind, as more Shadows, Wraiths, and Ghosts rumbled down the road towards him.
“Come on, I’m right here, you freaks.”
Suddenly, a voice came over the COM.
“Sierra, this is Delta Eight-Zero-Niner. I’m closing in on your position, signaling your location.”
Disappointed, Ryne lowered his rifle and turned his back to the Covenant forces cautiously charging up the cliffside. He leaped off the tower, and into the courtyard, popping a red glow from his flare that he took out from his waist, and threw it into the middle of the courtyard. The Spartan watched a Pelican dropship appear over the purple walls at the rear of the base, and slowly descend and rotate to show its open bay. As the Ryne boarded the bay of the Pelican, sliding his sniper rifle on his back, a lance of red-armored Zealot-class Elites bursted through a gaping hole made by an explosive plasma charge leading into their base, with their forces unable to get in due to the shield barrier. The Zealots dashed to the Courtyard, only to see a human ship floating away from them. 
A red-armored helmet Elite, his energy sword drawn, looked at the ship’s bay and glared at the Demon standing there, who also was staring right back at him. The Elite watched as the Demon took his thumb and slid it across his neck as the bay doors of the human ship closed, clearly taunting him. The Elite watched the ship fly off and disappeared into the night sky.
The Elite growled, as the images of that Demon’s insult burned into his mind. Another red-armored Elite, one of his subordinates, approached him carefully. “Blademaster Ossva…” said the Sangheili softly. “We….We have found General Luk’s body. He has been slain”.
A loud roar shook the air inside the outpost, as Ossva swung his blade in a rage. He had failed to save the General in time, and the Demon who did so insulted him as he fled. Ossva’s lieutenant distanced himself, as the other Zealots looked on in concern. The shield barrier finally fell, due to one of the Zealots deactivating it on a panel nearby, and regular Covenant infantry poured inside, led by a red-armored Elite Major. Ossva noticed and approached the Major.
“Warrior!” exclaimed an angry Ossva in a loud, booming voice, “what was your assignment?”
The Sangheili Major, confused, composed himself, as the Zealot commander approached. “Blademaster, I’m one of Luk’s subordinates, I was tasked with overseeing the operations outside the ba→”.
The Major’s head fell to the floor before he could finish that sentence, as Ossva’s blade cut through his neck like butter.
“Failure is just another mark of heresy!” yelled Ossva to the stunned and fearful Covenant infantry, as Grunts and Jackals cowered and the Elites hung their heads to avoid eye contact with the enraged Zealot. Ossiva switched his blade off, as he walked out the outpost with his Zealots close behind and cut through the frightened crowd of Covenant warriors.
“Let his be a lesson to you all. The Great Journey does not reward failure.”
Sitting alone in a darkened, quiet armory in the Prowler, a light from a lamp shining on a taken apart Sniper rifle, Ryne was cleaning and examining each piece, getting it ready for the next time he was out in the field. The Spartan was alone in his thoughts, reflecting on his mission. He was running through his plan of action, whether there were better ways to go about his mission, what mistakes he made. He struggled to sleep when he got done with the debriefing, a few hours ago, and delayed his stay in Cryo-sleep just to wander in his mind. 
Suddenly, the noise of large, steel bots clanged in the armory, and Ryne recognized who it was that was bothering at this time.
“Commander Kallas,” said Ryne, not turning to face his visitor, “What brings you here? I thought you were in Cryosleep.”
The steps stopped and the armory became quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, before Kallas broke the silence.
“Just wanted to say, congrats on your first mission as a Headhunter. Decimating an entire Covenant garrison, and killing that hinge-head General? Impressive work.”
Ryne was still focused on his rifle, as he began to wipe down the barrel. Kallas, his scarred face hidden in the shadows, observed from a distance. “I also heard you killed Innie prisoners, I think that impresses me the most, You focused on the mission, and recognized priorities. Just like how you were taught in Onyx.”
“What can I say? I had good teachers.”
Kallas detected the sarcasm in Ryne’s voice, but decided to let it go for now.
“Tell me Spartan, how does it feel to shed your skin? Become what you are really meant to be? Any regrets? Any doubts? I’m sure that all this weighs heavy on your mi–”
A loud clang from the barrel dropping on the steel desk interrupted Kallas, Ryne stopped what he was doing, and sat there on his chair in silence for a moment.
“Commander, I feel nothing if that's what you want to know," said Ryne, his back still turned to Kallas. “Nothing at all, ask me again when I’ve wiped them Covie freaks off existence myself.” 
A silence filled the room for what seemed like minutes.
Not hearing an immediate response, Ryne resumed his work, as he began to piece his rifle back together. He still could feel Kallas over him, as if he was right next to him. “Now, can you fuck off to cryosleep, sir?”
Hearing no response, Ryne looked behind him and realized that Kallas was gone already.
===Chapter 6===
“We’re hit! We’re hit!”
A Pelican dropship, with fire and smoke blooming out under its left wing, was weaving its way downward, avoiding bolts of incoming plasma fire. The dropship kept sinking and sinking, as a small explosion from under the left wing went off.
“Can’t keep this thing up, we’re going down!” The panicked yell came from the cockpit, as the Pilot tried to pull up with the control stick, while hitting switches and lights around her. Through her helmet’s visor, the Pilot could see, through the dirtied window of her cockpit, a tropical valley below got closer and closer. 
“Brace! Brace! Bra-“
The Pelican crashed nose-first into the muddy surface, sliding across the surface, as the wings clipped nearby trees and rolled over the shrubbery and flora. The dropship slid until it reached a ditch inside a small clearing, where it took its final resting place. Smoke enveloped the chipped-up left wing of the Pelican, rising up into the sky. There was a quiet stillness in the clearing, as the Pelican laid silent with no disturbances for several minutes. Rain began to fall, as the shadows of clouds consumed the jungles below.
Suddenly, a green-armored figure jumped out of the bay, wielding a M247 heavy machine gun, and scanned the surrounding area from the ditch. With raindrops pattering on his green, bulbous helmet, the olive-shaded armored soldier watched the dense jungles and flora surrounding him and the crash site, his machine gun at the ready. Suddenly, another green-armored soldier dropped down, an MA5K rifle in her hands. She quietly dropped next to her teammate at the edge of the ditch.
“Anything, Del?” she asked.
“Not yet, Freck, but that smoke is going to attract attention,” replied Delsin.
Sure enough, the Spartan was right.
From the jungles, slit-jawed and bulldog-faced alien warriors, armed with plasma pistols, carbines, and rifles, appeared from the dense vegetation, and unleashed a barrage of plasma bolts on the crash site. Delsin and Freckles returned fire with equal force, burrowing deep behind the ditch for cover to avoid the incoming plasma. Two more Spartans emerged from the bay of the smoking, dug-in Pelican. One of them, Colt, was carrying the Pilot’s lifeless body and gently placing her down at the base of the ditch. Colt was a replacement for Romeo, when Dan got rotated out of the team. 
A green-armored Spartans then dove next to Delsin and Freckles fired his Battle rifle at the incoming Covenant warriors.
“Well, so much for this being as easy as the last mission.” said Red, as he loaded another fresh mag into his rifle. Plasma bolts and green streaks kicked the dirt around them or flew over their heads, as the Spartans continued to return fire from the muddied ditch.
As the last rounds left Delsin’s machine gun, he quickly ducked down to reload a fresh box of armor-piercing rounds.
“Delsin, I need you to lay down cover fire into the tree lines. We’ll push up, once you get going”, ordered Red. Delsin nodded, as he finished loading, racking it, and rested the gun on the edge of the ditch. 
The rain began to fall harder, with the dirt turning into mud and the leaves and flora drenched in water. Plasma fire began to intensify, as the Elites and Grunts inched closer to the crash site, trudging through the mud and past the tall trees reaching into the skies.
Aiming at a gaggle of Covenant warriors moving out from the soaking wet shrubbery and tree lines, Delsin quickly squeezed the trigger, unleashing a violent barrage of rounds at alien ambushers that charged them.
A rain of bullets shreds through the bodies of the Grunt and Elites, with the surviving aliens diving behind boulders, trees, small ditches, and any other land feature they could use for cover. Delsin squeezed the trigger harder with each pull, firing wild bursts at the lances of Covenant warriors hiding in the tree line in front of him, trying to close in on the crash site. 
“Push Up, Romeo!” 
Following Red’s order, Team Romeo, with their olive-shaded SPI armor, climbed out of the ditch, running and firing at the same time, towards the long, rocky slopes in front of them. Delsin watched, with pride, his fellow Spartans fire and push forward. Covenant warriors, now being cut down by accurate fire, were being whittled down by the Spartans with ease, and they began to retreat into the tree lines and the tropical shrubbery.
After several minutes of gun and plasma fire, the jungle fell silent.
Team Romeo quickly set-up a defensive perimeter around the crashed Pelican, watching the tropical forest carefully, searching for any movement. Delsin climbed out of the ditch, his armor and machine gun now muddied from digging himself into the dirt for cover. Delsin carefully approached Red, who was behind a fallen tree bark that was cut down by the Pelican when they crashed. 
Delsin rested his gun on the log, scanning the tree lines and bushes in front of them.
“We drove them back, but the Covies will counterattack, with more heavy artillery”, remarked Red as he loaded and cocked his MA5K carbine. “So, what now?” Delsin asked, still focused on the jungles in front of him. 
“Listen up.” barked Red, as he turned to face his Spartan brethren. “Looks like we’re switching gears, that Covenant AA battery is reigning hell on air support. We are going to have to take out the guns before we move on.”
A series of “Rogers” rang out through the COM. The Spartans got up and moved quickly into the jungles, their green armor blending into the tropical landscape as they disappeared from the area. 
Now, the small jungle clearing was still with silence, with the crackling sound of fire from the Pelican’s Engine breaking the silence from time to time.
***
In the dense forest, moist by the rain that passed by, a large, purple structure can be seen, breaking through the tangled trees and vegetation. From a large, heavy plasma cannon on the structure, a constant flow of plasma is fired off at several nearby Pelican dropships and Sparrow Hawk VTOLs, airships weaving through the air to avoid the Anti-Air. This was not a simple cannon, it was fortified and heavily guarded. A purple, two-floor structure, with the Jackals, bird-like aliens, wielding their signature Beam rifles on the observation deck, and the Elite and Grunts patrolling the ground floor below. “Tyrants,” Delsin recalled from the Intel reports prior to their deployment. 
Laying on his belly alongside Red, Freckles, and another Spartan, Colt, Delsin and the team lay hidden behind some shrubs and flora on the flat land, as they were only just a few feet away from the cannon. This was their target; as the other Betas from their chalk were going after the other Tyrant cannon nearby. They waited patiently for the signal to attack the gun, hands tightening their grip on the weapons they wield. 
Everyone knew the plan. 
As a Jackal scanned the jungle terrain from his perch on the second deck, he noticed something strange from the nearby Tyrant cannon. The creature watched closely, seeing smoke emanating from its cannon. Suddenly, the cannon burst into a violent, purple explosion, stunning the Jackal.
Before it could react, a bullet entered his left eye, and his now lifeless body fell off the deck to the ground floor. From the tree line nearby, the Spartans emerged and opened fire on the stunned Covenant warriors guarding the structure, slowly moving towards the structure and laying heavy fire. Alongside his teammates firing their rifles and carbines, Delsin unleashed a violent barrage from his machine gun from the waist, hardly letting go of the trigger. Plasma bolts blasted by them, as the surprised Covenant panicked and fired aimlessly. 
The Grunts and Jackals fell easily, as Delsin and Colt focused on them. The remaining Elites that were not cut down by the accurate gunfire from Red and Freckles quickly retreated into the first floor deck inside the gun tower. Delsin and Colt took cover behind a boulder, while Red and Freck slid behind a fallen tree log. Plasma bolts continue to hit their cover, as the Spartans reloaded their weapons and quickly scanned themselves for wounds. Delsin watched Red closely, waiting for his signal to push.
Red’s visor turned towards Delsin and Colt, and gave a clear nod. 
Delsin and Colt moved out of their tree cover, firing their rifle and machine gun at the entrance way into the gun tower. The Elites fell back into cover, and Red and Freckles pushed up to the Tyrant, stacking up on the entrance. 
Delsin watched as Freckles lobbed a fragmentation grenade inside, and, within seconds, an explosion could be heard and partially seen from Delsin’s view at the entrance. Red and Freckles rushed in, and volley of fire from their rifles could be heard inside, alongside the dying cries of the split-jaws. 
“Clear!”
Delsin and Colt made their way inside, seeing their two teammates standing over the corpses of the fallen aliens. At the center of the circular room, there was their target: a pinch fusion reactor encased in a shielded power core at the center of base’s structure. The bright, glowing ball of bluish energy lit up the entire room, drawing the Spartans in like fireflies to a light tube.
A well-placed grenade and the Tyrant cannon would light up like fireworks. 
“Delsin, if you may”, said Freckles, as she fired a quick burst at the shields protecting the reactor. As the other Spartans returned outside, Delsin moved towards the light, a frag grenade in his hand. He casually tossed it in, sprinting out of the room before the explosion could go off. 
As he left, the grenade went off and the reactor exploded into purple flames. The sirens around the tower went off, as the Spartans outside slowly moved back, looking up to the gun overhead. A series of small, blue explosions bloomed around the cannon, slowly expanding and intensifying. It culminated in one giant, purple flash, the gun being blown apart in a violent explosion. The Spartans raised their hands to shield from the burning, bright sight, and gazed upon the ruins of the tower once the flash died down. 
“Hell yeah!” screamed Colt, as he gave a firm pat to Delsin’s back. Delsin raised his for a high-five, only to see Colt putting out his fist instead. On instinct, Delsin grabbed the fist in for a “handshake”. 
“We’ll work on it,”,Colt quietly remarked in disappointment, with Red and Freckles snickering behind their visors in the background, barely hiding their amusement at the awkward exchange. 
“What? I thought he was going to-“. Suddenly, a loud rumble cut Delsin off, and the Spartans turned around to see a menacing sight emerging from the jungles behind them. 
Two twelve feet tall, blue-armored monstrosities, with cannons on one arm and large, pavise shields on the other, emerged from the trees, one of them firing off a large green bolt at the Spartans. Delsin and the others jumped out of the bolt’s path, as it crashed into the surface of the tower behind them.
 
“Hunters!” yelled Freckles. The Spartans spread out, unleashing unrelenting gunfire at the Hunters. It was a futile effort, as the bullets ricocheted off their thick, blue armor and the worm-like aliens stomped towards their marks. 
One Hunter targeted Red and Colt, lunging at them to batter them with his two-ton shield. The Spartans evaded its attacks, diving around the wet mud and getting in pot shots at the exposed slits revealing the orange worn colonies that made up the alien creature. 
Delsin and Freckles were busy with the other hulking monster, avoiding the green bolts lobbed at them by his enormous arm cannon. The duo fired off their guns, but the creature hunched in, making it difficult to hit the openings in its armor.
“These things are not going down easily. I gotta do something”, thought Delsin as he moved around the Hunter, spraying some bursts from his machine gun. 
Freckles grabbed the Hunter’s attention, nailing some rounds into the opening on his waistline. It charged for her, only for Freckles to slide out of the way. With the Hunter’s back turned to him, exposing the soft, orange flesh of the worms inside, Delsin ran up to the hulking monster, aimed, and squeezed the trigger to unload a barrage of armor-piercing rounds.
Instead, the gun only clicked.
Delsin pressed the trigger a couple more times, realizing the worse had happened. He was out. 
“Well, shit.” 
The Hunter turned around, seeing his prey standing before him, and, with an unexpected quickness, swung his shield at the Spartan. 
Delsin tried to step back, but he knew it was too late.
As the shield collided with his SPI armor, Delsin flew off his feet, launched a couple feet in the air. 
Delsin could hear a loud scream for his name as he flew.
He crashed into a nearby tree with violent force, as the collision created a crunchy indent on the tree bark. Delsin slid down the tree and into the soggy dirt, feeling his entire body in immediate pain and dizzy from the hit.
He was used to getting his ass-kicked, be it at the orphanage or in a sparring circle. This was different, as the Spartan sat there stunned at the impact, his body screaming out in an agony he never felt before.
Barely conscious, Delsin looked up to see the Hunter looming over him, raising his shield to deal the final blow. Delsin closed his eyes, waiting for everything to go black.
“I guess that’s it for me.”
Suddenly, Delsin could hear a rumble from the creature, and opened his eyes to see Freckles climbing on its back. The creature frantically tried to shake her off, but Freckles held on long enough to shove a grenade through its back. She jumped off immediately. 
An explosion of shrapnel went off, with orange blood and flesh flying out the creature’s back. The creature was stunned and staggered around. Suddenly, Red and Colt joined in with Freckles unloading rounds into the exposed back. Through his blur, Delsin could make out an image of Hunter lying face up in the mud behind Red.
The Hunter flailed around, wildly swinging its shield and blindly firing its cannon in desperation. Suddenly, even more bullets struck the alien hulk from the other side of the clearing, as Delsin turned to see more of his Spartans comrades emerging from the tree line to his right, firing their rifles and carbines at the beast.
As the bullets pierced into its body, the Hunter slowly crumpled down, unable to stop the barrage of rounds hailing towards it. It let out a whimpering groan, as the creature fell over into the mud, orange blood pouring into the dirt. 
“Clear!” yelled a Spartan, as a couple of others Spartans fired small bursts into the Hunter’s limp body, making sure it was dead. 
Laying against the tree, Delsin shook his head, trying to shake the daze, and tried to get up. With his vision still hazy, Delsin could see a Spartan rush towards him, sliding down into the ground and gently pushing him down, trying to keep him seated.
“Del! Stay! Don’t move!” ordered Freckles as she knelt to his level. She carefully began to remove his helmet, trying to keep his head still. Red and Colt rushed over, with the other Spartans slowly circling around him to observe their fallen brother.
 
As the helmet was lifted off his head, Delsin could feel water drops on his head, coming down his face. He slowly titled his head up to see the gaze of his recently arrived Spartan brethren surrounding him.
“Oh, man.” 
“Is he okay?”
“We need a medic...”
Whispers buzzed around him, as Delsin tried to pick up what was happening. Suddenly, he realized it was not just water dripping on him, as he noticed a red liquid drip over his eyes.
“Del, you’re going to be fine. Just sit tight and-“
“Like hell” said Delsin, cutting off Red, and began to get up, sliding up the bark behind him.
“Del, please! You’re hurt! Don’t—“, cried Freckles. 
Delsin could tell from the quiver of her voice that she was holding back tears. Delsin tried to push down his frustrations welling up, hearing the worry in her voice just made him even more upset with himself. “Good job, dipshit.” 
Delsin put her hand on her shoulder, forcing himself up. He wiped his face of the blood and rain on him, flinching slightly when his fingers, accidently touched a fresh cut above his right eyebrow. He touched the cut again, and looked at his glove spattered in small spots of blood.
His own blood. 
Delsin grabbed his bulbous helmet, noticing a slight crack on the top, and slid it down his head. Delsin stood up with some help from Freckles, still in pain but pushing past it as best he could. Looking at Red and Colt, he nodded his head at them, relaying a signal that he was good to go.
 
“Del, c’mon. You’re hurt, we’re gonna call evac for you right now, so-,” said Red as he put a hand on Delsin’s shoulder.
“No, you’re not.” responded a groggy Delsin as he gently pushed Red’s hand off him. 
Delsin slid the Pistol off his right thigh, pulling back the slide as he checked his sidearm. The trio around Delsin looked at each other. Without saying a word, they all shrugged, realizing that there was no point in stopping their stubborn teammate. “Alright, Del. But, you’re taking up the rear” said Red, as he turned to confer with the other Spartans behind them.
Delsin slowly walked around, with Freckles tailing him as she watched his body language closely looking for anything off in his movements. He noticed the other Spartans around him, staring back at him. He could see a couple giving him nods of approval, recognizing his grit. “Good shit, Del” said one of them nearby, as another gently patted Delsin on his shoulder in encouragement.
Suddenly, one of the Spartans went up to Delsin, staring into his scratched-up, dirtied visor. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before handing him in his hands the familiar pink Covenant Carbine and its spare clips to him. “Not bad, runt” said the Spartan, as Delsin’s eyes widened when he recognized that voice. The same voice that mocked him all those years ago in that sparring match. He found out his name, Bennett, and this tall, blonde trainee barely acknowledged ever since he and his friends were pulverized by Giulia back then. Delsin wondered if he ever had to deal with him again, when he found out that Romeo would join his fireteam on this operation. 
“But try not to get yourself killed, next time”, said the burly Spartan, as he strode past a surprised Delsin to join Red and the other Spartans gathered nearby.
Freckles then moved in front of Delsin, once again still checking his body for anything that she found off with him. “Del, are you sure you’re fine?” she asked again in a more firm voice.
“I’m fine, Freck. Just let me get my bearings, and I’ll be goo—"
Freckles then wrapped her free arm around a surprised Delsin, hugging him tightly before quickly pushing off him. Delsin was not sure what had happened, wearing a confused look behind his visor.
“Stay in the rear, and watch our backs. You’ve done enough for us”, she said in a firm and commanding tone, as she turned to find Colt. Delsin was left standing alone, in his own little patch in the jungle clearing. He briefly looked down to see the orange blood pooling around his right foot. He looked to his right to see his would-be executioner face down in the dirt. 
“Fuck that was too close. I have to do better than this. I can’t have everyone else being worried about me.” 
Suddenly, Red and the other Spartan team leaders broke their huddle, with Red whistling as he circled his index finger, signaling for the dozen or so Beta Company Spartans with them to regroup. “Alright, the job’s not done, we’ve still got Covenant Tyrant cannons in the area, and then we’re clearing a landing zone for reinforcements. So check your weapons and ammo, and get ready to move out now.” 
Delsin checked his newly gifted Covenant Carbine, checking its amount count. He didn’t remember too well how Covenant weaponry functioned, outside of reloading and firing functions, but he hoped the full green circles on its small holographic display showed a full clip was in. Red came from behind Delsin, putting his hand on his shoulder as he moved in front of him. “Del, watch our six,” said Red as he, Freckles, and Colt moved in front of him, taking the lead for the rest of the Spartans. 
Delsin watched as all his Beta Company comrades all marched in front of them, their backs turned to him as they walked and blended into Actium’s dense jungle landscape in front of them.
Delsin, standing alone in the rain that was intensifying, could not help but feel something that he thought he buried a longtime ago. 
A feeling he felt as watched his convoy attacked by the Covenant on Jericho VII all those years, watching as the aliens gave chase to his parents, his siblings into the planet’s dense woodlands.
 
Useless.
Walking on wooden floorboards through a muddied trench line as rain poured down, filled with drenched and exhausted UNSC Army Troopers huddled together, Delsin looked around the trenchline to find his team. Delsin was clad in his now-wet SPI armor, his MA37 Assault Rifle slung over his shoulder, but he could still make out the feel of raindrops in his mind, as the water dripped down his bulbous visor. 
After taking out the Tyrant guns, Delsin and the task force of Beta Company Spartans were now tasked with holding Firebase Sweeper, a UNSC fire support base that was supporting a counter-offensive by the Army’s 53rd Armored Division, ferrying much needed personnel and supplies to the Division. The firebase sat on top of a remote, grassy hill, surrounded by dense jungles below, where the Covenant warriors lurked and roamed. Delsin recalled his arrival at the base, seeing body bags lined up, and the bunkers around the base burning as troopers threw heaps of water to put it out. It had been a rough few days for the troopers.
For the past several hours, Covenant had launched repeated assaults on Firebase Sweeper, as lances of Sangheili, Unggoy, and Kig-Yar warriors charged up the hill, only to be cut down and pushed back by heavy machine gun and artillery fire.
However, human casualties were also rising at the base, and Delsin and the Spartans were called upon to reinforce.
Delsin thought back to the past two days since they arrived, how intense the fighting got and how it seemed never ending. Now, here he was, trudging through the mud and blood of this world, knowing they were likely going to end up retreating in the end. 
Again. 
Delsin walked across the trenches, carefully passing by the tired and ragged UNSC Marines that were also moving along the line. He could see their exhausted faces, sunken, sullen and shaken, rattled by the constant Covenant mortar barrages. Delsin wished he could be reassured in some way, but he was not sure how. As Delsin took a turn from one trench line into another, he found a trio of SPI-armored Spartans looking over the wire, surveying the hillside below. Delsin approached quickly, as he waved them down. “Red?” Freck? Colt?” asked Delsin. 
One of the Spartans turned to Delsin and shook his head. “Nah, Romeo is on the other side of the hill, watching that flank.” Delsin immediately recognized the voice. “Oh, sorry about that, thanks Kaito.”
“You good, Del? I’m surprised you can still move well enough after what happened with you and those Hunters,” asked Kaito.
“Yeah, I figured your entire skeleton is probably as jiggly as the mess hall food in Onyx,” remarked another Spartan. The wise-cracker was Daria, one of Beta’s “class clowns”. Delsin chuckled at her remark. “I'm good, no need to worry.” Ahmed, another Spartan, chirped up. “Leave him alone. Delsin is practically indestructible. How else do you explain him surviving the Hunters and getting constantly smoked during training, and coming out of it like nothing happened?” 
“Oh yeah,” Daria recalled. “You were constantly thrashed in PT and got your ass kicked during hand-to-hand combat sessions during basic, pissing yourself in fear. Then, there you were, right as rain after running another three miles or having your skull rocked. I think the DIs eventually felt bad about it.”
“You are one tough sonuvabitch, huh, Delsin,” Ahmed jokingly stated.
Delsin recalled his time on Onyx, but he seemed to remember it differently, as he remembered that he welcomed death after every smoke session, and barely could remember the beat downs he got. He was just happy he never had to fight someone like Giulia or Bodark. Speaking of which, Delsin noticed the absence of one Spartan from Kaito’s team. He looked around carefully, failing to spot her nearby. “Hey, where’s Giulia? Is she off somewhere?” 
“After CARTWHEEL, Giulia got taken off Lima before the company was deployed. She stayed behind for additional training because she was going to be on those “special missions”, Kaito flatly stated, signaling air quotes when he said "special missions". “Giulia was always among the best in our company," Kaito continued. "It’s no wonder the Colonel decided to take her and others out of Beta.”
“Yeah, while the rest of us are at the frontlines, doing the heavy lifting, while the “specials” are doing fuck-knows-what”, Daria bitterly moaned, as she adjusted the sights of her BR55 Battle rifle while peeking over the wire, wiping off the raindrops on her scope. Delsin did recall the murmurs of the Lieutenant Commander apparently taking Spartans out of their barracks while back on Onyx. Nobody came for him or anyone else in his barracks at the time before their deployment.
“Guess, Commander Ambrose didn’t think we were good enough for his special unit.”
“Relax, Dar”, Ahmed popped off, who was looking over the trench with his MA5K carbine in his arms. “I’m sure Giulia is just kicking as much ass as we are, but she and the others are probably handling much tougher shit than. We can’t be mad at her for being too good at her job.”
“Yeah, but she is going to kill all the Covies before we even have the chance to get more action”, retorted Daria. “Why are you asking, Del? You miss her or something?” Daria bluntly asked. Delsin felt fortunate that he was wearing his helmet, hiding the nervous and embarrassed look on his face.
All of sudden, a volley of large, blue plasma blobs flew out of the trees below. Another Covenant mortar barrage, meaning another Covenant charge up the wet, muddy hillside was coming.
“Alright, the Covies want another round, let’s give it to them!” yelled Kaito. The Spartans got in their firing positions, the barrels of their rifles resting on sandbags as they pointed down the hillside. Marines followed suit, rushing into the trenches, joining the Spartans, as they also loaded and aimed their rifles and prepared their heavy machine guns to meet the incoming Covenant warriors. 
“Say Del, come join us, I’m sure Red and the others will be on their way soon for the party,” said Kaito, as he motioned Delsin to take up a position next to him. Shrugging, Delsin slung over his rifle and walked up the steps to the edge of the trench.
With his rifle ready and aimed, Delsin watched jungles closely, looking for a hint of blue or red armor, plasma shields, or pointy Orange armor. Explosions rocked behind them as the large plasma bolts from the Wraiths landed and crashed, shaking the ground and forcing the human troopers to hug the dirt in their foxholes and trenches.
“Hey, Del. You didn’t answer Daria’s question.” Kaito mumbled, still aiming and firing bursts from his MA5K. Del looked at him, befuddled at Kaito’s sudden interest in his delayed answer.
“Is now really the best time, Kaito?” Delsin yelled, firing the last burst from his clip as he crouched down to reload.
“Guess not, maybe after the battle.” 
After the Wraiths ended their barrage, the first Covenant warriors emerged from the forests below. The blue and red armored Elites directed the Grunts and Jackals to charge up the hill. Plasma bolts flew over the trenches, with Spartans and Marine patiently holding their fire as they waited for the alien invaders.
 
As the Covenant forces reached the first line of fencing, trying to wade through the steel hedgehogs and barbed wire, a loud “Open fire” order reverberated along the trench line, and the Spartans and Marines opened the fire. Delsin fired controlled bursts from his Assault rifle, nailing a few Grunts and Elites that were struggling with getting through the fencing.
Delsin and Kaito’s team continued to focus fire on the fencing, making sure any Covenant forces that were squeezed by were immediately stopped in their tracks. Elites, Grunts, Jackals tried to place explosives on the fencing, carrying plasma charges through the gunfire. It was fruitless, as they were cut down before they could even reach the fencing by Marine snipers hidden along the trench, tucked away behind the sandbags of their makeshift sniper’s nests. Delsin continued to focus his fire on the fencing, never keeping his eye off it as he fired off controlled bursts that cut down Grunts and Elites that were caught in the wiring or pinned behind the wooden hedgehogs.
As Delsin crouched back down the trench to reload, Delsin noticed incoming Marine reinforcements running down a trench line behind the main defensive trench line. Behind those Marines, Delsin spotted three other SPI armored Spartans barreling down towards him. “What the hell, Del?” yelled Red, who ran up behind Delsin as the other two Spartans, Freckles and Colt, took up their positions along the trench line, firing their rifles. “Are you going to face off the entire Covenant invasion without us?” 
“Of course he is!” Freckles chimed in, as she fired away with her MA37 rifle at the Covenant aliens slogging up the muddied, wet hillside. All Delsin could do was shrug in response, as he finished reloading his assault rifle.
“What can I say?” Del yelled, plasma bolts flying over the trench as he stood up with Kaito and resumed his firing. “I love it when the odds are against me.”
 
In the brightly lit, gray dorm of a UNSC carrier ship floating in space, Delsin sat alone on his lower bunk bed, wearing military fatigues that he usually wore when he was not in his SPI armor, fiddling his fingers. So much was running through his head, the battle plan, the weapons training, the Covenant. The anxiety rose, as he could feel the upcoming mission inching closer and closer by the hour.
“Alright, gotta remember to take the little bastards in front before I take on the alligators. Those gremlins can be pests. Should I bring in just my regular kit? Maybe a Rocket Launcher. No, that’s not wise, and they’re just going to say no. Maybe I just bring…”
The upcoming mission, dubbed Operation: TORPEDO, was to destroy a Covenant deuterium/tritium refinery, used to make chemicals used in the Covenant's plasma reactors, making this refinery an excellent refueling plant for Covenant ships on the edge of UNSC space. The destruction of this supply point would triple the interval of Covenant supply lines and buy the UNSC cherished time to recover. This time would be spent regrouping in the wake of numerous crushing defeats at the hands of the Covenant Armada these past few years. 
“You've got this, Del. Don't know why you're so nervous. All the training, all the battles, you are ready for this. Stop being-” 
A red, rubber ball bounced off his head, interrupting Delsin’s train of thought. Delsin looked towards the now-open doorway of the dorm, only to see the familiar goofy grin of Freckles, also in her fatigues and holding the red ball that bounced off his head. 
“Will you relax, Del? Live a little, fretting about the op is going to kill you before the Covenant does at this point”. Red suddenly popped in, also in his fatigues, looking back at Delsin.
“C’mon, Del. We’re heading to range for some target practice with a few others. Freckles still thinks she can outshoot me. I wanna see her turn red again so bad, after I whoop her again.”
“Keep talking, Red. You’re gonna look about as dumb as you look when I hit all my targets this time”, responded Freckles, which was quickly met by simultaneous chortles by Delsin and Red. 
An annoyed Freckles hurled her red runner ball repeatedly at Delsin’s head, forcing Delsin to shield himself. “Get up, you dork”, said Freckles, as she grabbed Delsin’s gray shirt and lifted him off his bed.
“Easy, Freck! You tore off my other T-shirt last time. I had to borrow this from Tom earlier.” 
Delsin followed Red and Freckles in front of them, as they walked down the corridor of dorms. In some of those dorms, Delsin noticed his Beta Company teammates also hanging around, sleeping, conversing, and doing some push-ups and pull-ups. Delsin looked back at his teammates in front of him, unrecognizable to him from the night they first met. Maybe it was their augmentations, but Delsin could see they were no longer the kids they once were. They were Spartans. 
For the last couple of months, Beta Company had been on several combat deployments to fight the Covenant onslaught, and they were proving themselves a force to be reckoned with. The success of Operation: CARTWHEEL, the bitter fighting on Actium and several other combat ops had hardened their mettle. Now, Operation: TORPEDO was their next mission, and probably their most important. 
Delsin was prepared to make a difference; he wanted to make a difference. 
All of the battles he survived and fought led up to this, and he was going to rise to the occasion. Ever since they were briefed on the mission, Delsin studied the tactical map of Pegasi Delta, doing push-ups and pull-ups, and he spent almost every waking moment checking and cleaning his Battle rifle. 
He was going to be ready, and be at his best this time.
 
Freckles turned back to see Delsin, still wearing a fierce look in his eyes and trapped in his nervous thoughts. She stopped in front of him, catching him off-guard as he nearly bumped into her. “Del, we got this. No matter what happens, we’re going to come out of this all right,” Freckles stated with confidence. Delsin smiled, a bit jealous of her self-assurance attitude. “Yeah, we will,” retorted Delsin, trying to sound just as confident as her.
Red, watching the exchange, smirked as he resumed his walk to the lift to take them to the armory where the weapons range was. “Hurry up, the other teams are going to start without us,” said Red. Freckles winked, as she turned to follow Red, slightly nudging his shoulder as she ran past him. Delsin watched them sprint to lift in a foot race, jogging across the corridor. Freckle’s words echoed in his mind, as he smiled. 
“Yeah, we will.”
===Chapter 7===
With his eyes fluttering open, Delsin slowly regained consciousness, finding himself encased in a titanium tomb of blinking lights. Inside his globular SPI helmet, Delsin felt the familiar metallic taste of blood swish around his mouth, swallowing it down almost immediately. He began to remember what had just happened. The Spartan was snug in his orbital drop pod, crashing towards the rocky, red surface of Pegasi Delta.
Then, black. All black. 
“Ahh, my head. What happened?” 
Once he cleared the cobwebs in his head, Delsin kicked the metal frame of his pod down, and stumbled out and fell to the dirt below on his hands and knees. He was dizzy, and his body was on fire with pain. Suddenly, the familiar sounds of angry split-jaws and vultures conversing caught his attention. He looked up to see Covenant warriors walking across the sands and dirt, several dozen feet away from him. He spotted two Elites, armed with plasma rifles, flanked by four Jackals with their shields up and ready. The aliens were approaching his crashed pod, clearly looking for their prey as they likely spotted the crash.
“Elites...Jackals...”
Delsin turned back to his pod, and ripped out his BR55. The aliens spotted him as he rose, firing off their plasma rifles and pistols, their bolts grazing Delsin’s armor. Delsin moved behind his pod, sitting snugly into the surface. With little time to think, Delsin returned fire with his Battle rifle, aiming on instinct and adrenaline. 
The first burst landed, as a Jackal collapsed with the rounds pierced through its skull. When the subsequent burps took down another Jackal and took one of split-jaws shields down, the Elites ran to cover behind a nearby boulder, while Jackals hunched down in their shields, as the bullets ricocheted off their plasma guard. Delsin realized he was now at a disadvantage. He unhooked a frag grenade from his waist, activated it, and moving out cover to throw it in the air, with plasma bolts narrowly missing him as he did so. 
The grenade landed near the boulder where the Elites took shelter, exploding and throwing out of their cover with their shields now down. Delsin took advantage. 
Six shots out, six rounds into the Elites’ collective skulls. 
Delsin turned his focus on the two surviving Jackals, firing off their plasma bolts from their pistols. Delsin jumped out of cover, narrowly avoiding the bolts and unleashing a full-auto barrage from his Battle rifle. It hit one of Jackals in the arm, deactivating its shield gauntlet, and a hail of bullets entered its body, falling backwards onto the red sands and rocks. The lone Jackal, realizing he was outmatched, turned to retreat, but stupidly left his back exposed in his panic. Another burst of bullets ended his futile attempt to escape. 
Delsin walked over the corpses of his alien foes, unsure how he survived the battle. Heck, he was not sure how he even survived the orbital drop. He checked his battle rifle, hoping the damage was only superficial, as he noticed the scratches and chipped color on his rifle. 
All of a sudden, Delsin’s COM crackled. “All Teams, converge on the Target,” screamed a male voice over the static, clearly giving out orders. Intense gunfire, ear-piercing plasma bolts, explosions, and even faint screams from his brothers and sisters-in-arms also came over the COM. The Spartan quickly realized that the battle had already begun. 
“Dammit! I've got to get there!" muttered Delsin, as he went into a mad sprint, galloping across the sands and rocks. 
 
Climbing over the gravelly terrain, Delsin pulled himself up, seeing bright flashes over the edge of the ridge. The Spartan had been desperately scaling the rocky terrain and speeding across the scans to get to the target site. With his entire body in pain, Delsin pushed those thoughts out of his head, focused on only reaching his fellow Spartans. 
Delsin walked up the edge of the ridge, only to be in absolute horror and awe at the sight before him.
Across the red sands in the land below, hundreds of Spartans were charging towards the Covenant factory city in the distance, looming over the surface like a fortress of corrosion with colossal smokestacks and blue plasma coils pulsing from its structures. Seraphs, teardrop shaped Covenant fighters, firing large plasma bolts at Beta Company. At the edge of his view, Delsin could make out hundreds of small figures emerging from the Covenant factory. As he looked closer and the figures got closer, he could make out the shapes of Elites and Jackals. 
There were hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of them. 
Delsin watched thousands of Covenant warriors clash with about two hundred Spartans in open battle. A flurry of tracer rounds, crystal shards, plasma bolts, explosions, and flaring shields made the sight a haze of pandemonium. 
“Holy hell” 
“This is Romeo Leader. Any Spartan nearby, respond!” Delsin’s COM crackled with a familiar voice. 
“Red!”
Delsin slid down the slope and onto the red dirt below, and spotted a crashed Seraph, burning and dug deep into the sandy surface. Delsin jumped and slid down the slope, feeling some discomfort as he did. As he hit the surface, the Spartan made a beeline to the crashed fighter. In his dash, Delsin saw the bodies of his dead brothers and sisters, their armor splintered apart and their bodies scattered like leaves across the rocky surface. Delsin tried to block it out, but the view was practically impossible to avert his gaze from, as he kept seeing their bodies more and more as he ran. 
As he got closer, Delsin was able to see through the dust and smoke, and saw the crashed Covenant fighter. However, he noticed something else, in the sky. 
“Those aren’t clouds…” 
What he thought were dark clouds were actually Covenant cruisers, their bulbous oblong hulls casting shadows over the entire area. As he reached the crashed Seraph, Delsin, still focused on the sight above him, checked his rifle and began to scan the area around him. 
Caught off-guard for a moment, large plasma bolts flew over Delsin’s head and crashed into the dirt. 
A Covenant Seraph had picked out Delsin, going for a strafing run. Delsin returned fire with his Battle rifle in a futile effort to shoot down the retreating Seraph. Smaller plasma bolts and shards crashed into the surface of the down surface, as distant Covenant lances were now taking shots at Delsin and his makeshift cover.
 
Delsin returned fire, but the endless barrage of plasma and the dusty winds made it hard to meaningfully fight back. 
“This is hopeless, we need to leave. What are we doing still fighting?!”
Panic was slowly overwhelming Delsin’s mind. The Spartan was starting to hyperventilate, and then slid down behind the fighter. He clutched his rifle tightly, unsure what was happening. 
Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder.
 
“Glad, you could make it, Del.” 
Red was crouched over Del, and Freckles appeared next to him. Another Spartan, unfamiliar to Delsin, was also tailing them, as she returned fire on the Covenant lances firing at the down fighter. Delsin could feel everything starting to slow down for him. Del could not help but notice something missing. 
“Colt?’ 
Freckles and Red glanced at each other, before turning back to Delsin. 
“Seraphs got him”, said Freckles with an inkling of sadness in her tone. Delsin winced in frustration from behind his visor. He could feel it all coming at the seams. He did not know what to do, if there was anything he could do. 
“Focus, Del! We need to get to the factory. Covenant reinforcements are here, and we need to buy time for Foxtrot to blow that to high hell”, said Red in a firm shout as he tried to get Delsin to focus on him. 
“We’ll get through this, Del”, said Freckles, as she held out her hand for Delsin. Delsin looked at it, and grabbed it as he was helped up. Delsin looked at his teammates, his comrades, his friends, and nodded meekly in approval. Red peeked over the cover to get a look at the Covenant factory, the firing had dulled and it was their best chance to link up with the rest of Beta. 
“Let’s move!”, barked Red, as he sprinted out from behind the Seraph, with their tag-along Spartan following close behind. Freckles followed next, as Delsin ran from behind. The four Spartans ran as fast as they could, plasma bolts kicking directly around them, and crystal shards just narrowly missing their bodies. Delsin kept running forward, watching his teammates charge ahead of him. He noticed Freckles turning her head back to him. Delsin could imagine a reassuring goofy smile behind that visor. 
“Del, when we get there---“
A large, blue explosion struck the ground next to Freckles, creating an explosion of plasma and orange dust. The force of the explosion knocked Delsin back. 
It went all briefly black for Delsin again. 
Laying on his back on the red dirt, Delsin woke up and watched a Seraph fly off into the hazy skies above. Vision blurred and the wind knocked out of him, Delsin gasped for air and slowly sat up. He looked at his hands and arms, noticing that the armor plating was scratched and torn up, seeing gashes on his arms. Scanning the view around him, Red and the other Spartan were no longer in view. He was shrouded in dust, with faint glimpses of blue and green balls bolting around him. He could hear faint gunfire, but was not sure where it was coming from. Shaking off the dizziness, Delsin turns to his left slightly, to where he last saw Freckles before he lost consciousness. 
Laying on the red dirt and her SPI armor cracked apart, Freckles was laying on her back, writing in pain, and her hand reaching out to the sky above. Delsin could see blood spilling and pooling around the left side of her body, where her SPI armor was split open. Freckles still kept her hand in the air, and turned to Delsin. 
Her hand was now reaching out to him. 
Delsin, now with his bearings, was in shock at Freckle’s mangled body. Delsin quickly stood up, stumbling towards Freckle’s body, using his Battle rifle to keep him from falling as he approached. Eyes were welling up with tears, as he slowly got closer to Freckles. Delsin could see her visor cracked open, where he could see her lone, hazel eye was staring back at him. He could make out the tears welling around her eye. 
Delsin’s COM crackled with chatter, including Red’s panicked, strained voice. 
“Delsin, Erie! Do you read?! Respond! Covenant forces are bearing down on us! Anyone?! Please Respond?!” 
Delsin, still looking at Freckles laying before him, felt shock all over his body, as he could not feel blood trickle from his right nostril behind his helmet. Freckles still reached out to him, her visible eye squinting in pain. She tried speaking, but could only whimper and cry. 
An even more frenzied Red came over the COM again. “Del! Erie! Can yo—“.
Delsin shut off his COM piece on his helmet, as he gazed out to the horizon before him. 
A nearly catatonic Delsin looked out into the distant landscape and skies, the shell-shocked Spartan could begin to make out the shape of Seraph fighters dropping from the gigantic, Covenant cruisers, dozens of them, and assembled into a horde of Starfighters. Darkly radiant shafts of light appeared from the belly of each cruiser, transport beams, and Delsin could see, from a distance, the figures of hundreds of bloodthirsty Elites, Grunt, Jackals, pouring onto the battlefield. 
“No More. Enough. Please…” muttered Delsin under his breath, his cries trailing off into silence. Scars and scratches across his damaged SPI armor, the Spartan dropped his battle rifle to the dirt, and looked back down at Freckles, still straining her hand for him. He could see her arm slowly lowering, and looked into her cracked visor. Delsin started to see the familiar, warm light fading in her eye.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, Erie…:” whispered Delsin, slowly stepping back from his fallen teammate.
Turning his back to the battle, to a dying Erie, Delsin galloped across the sandy, red landscape, mustering all his strength and ignoring the pain in his chest. Delsin remembered the Black Cat prowlers waiting for them for extraction; he checked the display on his visor, seeing eight X marks, indicating they were all still there. Delsin reached a small slope, and slowly climbed his way up. Digging his fingers and feet into the slope’s rocky surface, Delsin frantically scaled up, until reaching the top and forcing his exhausted body up and over. As he finally reached the tip of the ridge, Delsin laid on his back for a moment, staring at the sky, and began to cry almost uncontrollably. 
The Spartan slowly realized what he just did. 
“I’m no Spartan. What did I think I could do? I can’t do this…” 
He had failed his duties and left his fellow Spartans to die. He could not even comfort one of them in their dying moments. All Delsin could see was Erie’s ravaged body, the screams of Red, the numerous Covenant ships and warriors flooding the area, and the endless field of corpses of his Beta Company brethren he ran past. 
Delsin’s will had given way to weakness he thought he had already overcome.
 
Fear. 
Still in tears and clutching his ribs in pain, Delsin slowly pushed himself off the rocky surface, and tentatively walked away from the raging battle behind him, disappearing into the hills in front of him. Delsin sprinted as best he could, putting himself a significant distance between him and the combat area. He kept his eyes forward, focusing on the indicator on his TACMAP. 
Delsin did not look back.
***
After a long trek through the red and sandy terrain and hills of the Pegasi Delta, Delsin, still holding his side in pain, trudged up a long trail on a hillside he was directed to. He hoped that his TACMAP was right, taking him to one of Black Cat Prowlers resting in between the rock prominences of the planet. 
As the indicators' meter counter hit zero, Delsin found a Black Cat, resting in a large ditch, nestled by small boulders. Delsin slowly slid down the ditch, pain intensifying as he slowly dropped down the slope He stumbled forward, before catching himself from falling. Delsin looked up at the Black Cat’s ramp, dropped down, its open hatch waiting for passengers. 
It would only get one.
Delsin stumbled onto the ramp, slowly walking up. Before he entered into the Prowler’s hull, Delsin could feel something behind him, and turned around to see, what looked like, a new sun on the horizon of the planet, where the Covenant factory was supposed to be. Delsin watched as the Covenant cruisers rippled, distorted, and vaporized as the heat from that explosion washed over them.
“They did it.”
That brief moment of pleasure was quickly rinsed away by the immediate realization that the entirety of Beta Company was wiped out in the blast.
Except for him, a coward.
A damn coward.
Delsin, in his once pristine, olive SPI armor that was now shredded and scratched up beyond recognition, slowly turned away from the sight, and continued his way inside the Black cat, slamming a button that closed the hatch behind him, entering into the ship’s brightly lit hull. 
The sub prowler's engines hummed to life, and suddenly dampened to a whisper. The craft lifted and angled up into the darkening skies above. The ship broke the atmosphere, leaving the dry, bloodshot planet behind. 
As the ship prepared to make a slipspace jump, Delsin sat in the Black Cat’s cockpit, having engaged the autopilot, with his battle-scarred helmet tossed to the side, as stared blankly at the dark void of space out the window.
“You don’t deserve to be here.”
Delsin quickly turned around to hear where that murmur came from, only to see a doorway leading into a darkened, empty corridor. Turning back around with tears welling up again, Delsin placed his head into his hands, as he sat hunched over, hearing more whispers and taunts from that same, darkened corridor. 
“You don’t deserve to be here.”
The Black Cat made the jump, disappearing into the starry void.
===Chapter 8===
Delsin winced in pain, as he tried to shove the needle through his arm’s tender skin. He got the largest gash on his right arm mostly sewed up, but him being right-handed made it very tough for him to dress his wound properly. He was at least glad that most of the plating around his arm was shredded, making it easier for him to treat his cuts. In front of him was his SPI helmet, the large, scratched yellow visor staring directly back at him. Delsin could feel its gaze upon him, as if the inanimate helmet was judging him. 
The Beta Company Spartan, still wearing his scarred, damaged SPI armor, was sitting alone on the steel floor of the darkened hull, rummaging through a first-aid pack to patch himself as best he could. He sat there, fiddling with needles wishing Red were around to help with the sutures, considering he had reliable, steady hands. 
“Red…”
Delsin stopped what he was doing, as Red’s face flashed in his mind. He could see his steely dark eyes, his red hair, and the brown spots across his nose, and he was smiling back at him. Delsin thought about the mischief he and Red were up to on Currahee, how Red led him and Erie into battle, and how he could make anyone follow him into the bowels of hell. 
Except for Delsin. 
“Why didn’t you come?” a disembodied male voice whispered in the hill. Delsin looked up to the helmet again, the visor staring right at him. He shook his head violently, trying to get the low voices out of his head. He focused on finishing his stitches, but his shaking hands made it impossible for him to puncture without opening the wound even more. 
As he missed his mark again, Delsin threw the needle at one of the corners of the hull in frustration.
It had been four days since he escaped Pegasi Delta, and his Black Cat jumped into slipspace. The problem was it took him nowhere near UNSC territory, hell, he wondered if he was in the right galaxy. Delsin dropped an SOS buoy, putting the ship in autopilot, and waited for days for some transport or patrol to pick him up. 
There has been no response.
 
Delsin was in a steel box, wounded, exhausted, and alone in his thoughts. He passed out a few hours after he left the system, and had not slept since. 
He did not want to sleep. 
As he passed out on the cockpit, the images of Eris’s mangled body, Red’s screams for help, the scattered bodies of Beta Company, the fleet of Covenant starships raining hell on him flooded his nightmares. The last he saw, as he stood on a mound of sand and rocks, was Eris, Red, Colt, and every Spartan on that godforsaken planet surrounding him, their lifeless bodies rising up and staring directly at him.
Their visors all focused on him, and him screaming as he woke up in a cold sweat.
Now, he was afraid to go back to sleep.
Delsin forced himself up, and looked at his right arm again. He could see his gaping gash was mostly closed, and noticed other small cuts and punctures around it, brushing it off. Delsin slowly walked into the corridor out of the hull, as he left, he turned around to get his helmet, but stopped in his tracks as he found the helmet was still facing him somehow.
“You left us to die,” a hushed female voice cried. 
For a second, Delsin thought the voice was coming from the helmet. 
Delsin quickly scurried out of the hull, avoiding eye contact with his SPI headgear. A few minutes of walking, and Delsin found himself in the cockpit of the Black Cat. He stared out to the dark void of space, as he pondered his next move.
 
Delsin had enough supplies to last him for a bit, but the Black Cat was already burning up fuel. He knew the craft had only a few weeks before it would be an aimlessly drifting tomb in this unknown region of space. 
Maybe it was better that way. 
Delsin leaned back on the chair, closing his eyes. He did not want to sleep, but exhaustion was getting the better of him. A sudden beep opened his eyes, as he looked at the panel in front of him. 
A green light blinking.
He was not sure what it was, as he leaned into the panel. Delsin’s eyes widened when he realized what it was signaling. 
A communication hail.
Delsin quickly got on his feet, frantically pressing buttons and switches to respond quickly. Delsin looked out the window, and, from a distance, could make out a cluster of spacecraft making his way towards him. 
“This is Sierra Two-Four-Zero. Do you read me?”
 
A male voice swiftly came over the comms.
“We read you, Sierra. This is the Silverback. We got your SOS during our patrol; can you give us a status update on your ship and crew?”
“Silverback, the Black Cat is low on fuel after a Slipspace Jump. It’s just me. I’ve been busy tending my wounds.”
“Repeat, Sierra. It’s just you?” 
“Yes, Silverback.” 
“Sierra, are you a UNSC asset and is this craft a UNSC-owned vessel? 
Delsin was taken aback by such an odd question. 
“Y-yes, Silverback.”
There was a silence, a silence that lasted a little longer than Delsin would have liked. 
“Silverback?” 
The male voice came back, this time in a slightly sterner tone than the relaxed voice he had. 
“Sierra, are you armed and ready?” 
Now, Delsin was concerned. 
“No, Silverback.” 
Delsin watched from the cockpit, as the ships got closer and closer. He could make out the familiar silhouette of a Mako-class corvette that he saw a while back during his first days of combat, flanked by patrol ships. He could not find any UNSC insignias and markings on these ships. 
“Sierra, we’ll escort you back to safety. You will be held under our custody. Try anything, and we’ll treat you as hostile.” The rigid voice and delivery of that message confused Delsin. The entire tone of the conversation had shifted, as if he was an enemy combatant. 
“What’s going on? Why am I being taken prisoner?” 
Then, it dawned on him. He was not being rescued by UNSC naval vessels. These ships belonged to entirely different party. 
Rebels. 
Delsin sighed at the realization, as he was in no position to fight back or even escape. He had no idea where he was, and where to go. Besides, even if he could, he had no urge to fight. Not anymore. Whatever was coming, Delsin accepted it.
“Sierra, how copy the last transmission?” 
Delsin quickly pressed on the button to respond before they started opening fire on his craft. 
“Sierra copies, it’s your show, Silverback. You’re going to have to be patient with me; I’m not used to handling this kind of ship.” 
“Roger that. I’ll guide you in as best I can.” 
Delsin disengaged the autopilot function, as he sat back in his seat, and watched the Corvette take the lead. At the edge of his vision, he noted the Patrol boats at his flank, slightly closer to him than he would like. The tired Spartan slouched down, and took control of the Black Cat, piloting the damn ship as best he could. He did not know what was going to happen, and what these rebels were going to do with him. Frankly, Delsin did not really care. 
Not Anymore.
***
Several Hours Later…
The sky was clear, the sun shining through the few, small clouds. It illuminated a dense, striking jungle, filled with colorful flora and fauna and healthy trees populating the valley. Like a bird, a Black Cat prowler, with a pair of S77 Crow fighters flanking the craft, slowly descended across the valley. 
As the trio of ships climbed over an opaque mountain range, a lagoon came into view, where a large, shanty settlement resided. Fishers on canoes in the bay look up to see the crafts fly by them. The ships flew over the cobbled, steel and wooden houses and buildings, as the various settlers walking the alleys and markets looked up hearing the loud hum of engines, witnessing a craft that they had never seen before. 
After flying past the village, the Crows break formation as the descending Black Cat arrives at a small industrial facility resting at the edge of the oceanfront, as the base’s personnel were frantically clearing a runway and landing pad for the incoming ship. A squad of armed men and women, in rag-tag military gear, rushed out to the landing pad, encircling the area with their rifles at the ready.
The Black Cat hovered over the landing pad, slowly descending until its landing gears hit the metal floor. As the engines powered down, the armed militaries slowly closed in on the ship, as the hatch flung open.
 
Delsin, in his full SPI armor, emerged slowly from the ship, as the nervous and aggressive troopers quickly surrounded him, their MA37 and M392 rifles all pointed at the weary Spartan. One of them, a pint-sized, scraggly soldier, approached Delsin closely. 
“Your hands up!” the soldier screamed. 
Delsin raised his hands slowly, wincing in pain as he let go of the left side of his ribs. Blood dripped from his arms onto the pad, as Delsin stared down the barrel of a MA37 assault rifle. 
“On your knees!"
 
“Nope”, responded Delsin nonchalantly, as if he was politely denying advice, instead of refusing orders.
“I said on your kne—“ 
“I’m in immense pain, and my body is ready to shut down from sheer exhaustion, if I get down, you’re going to have to drag me around”. Delsin knew this was a dumb thing to say, but he did not really care. He was tired, in utter agony, and he was in no mood for this contest of egos.
Hell, if he was going to end up shot, Delsin figured he might as well get it over with and be done with this whole affair. The soldier, clearly annoyed, got up to Delsin, shoving the rifle’s barrels to his bulbous helmet’s visor. Delsin looked into the young man’s green eyes hiding under the brim of his patrol cap, filled with anger, but also anxiety, as if this was his first time pointing a gun at someone. 
In fact, it probably was. 
“Do as I ordered, scum! Get on your knees, asshole!” 
“Look, I don’t want to start trouble, but I don’t think I’m going to get on my knees.”
Delsin stood his ground, as the scene became still. The surrounding soldiers, looking at each other, as they watched this green armored figure refusing this order. The young soldier, now seemingly embarrassed, kicked Delsin’s knee hard, trying to bring the green brute down to his level. 
The Spartan briefly looked down in response, a bit perplexed at the action. 
“Really?” remarked Delsin in an annoyed tone. 
“Alright, that’s enough,” a female voice boomed from behind the soldiers. Delsin looked over the shoulder of his tiny adversary, and he could see a woman weaved through the line of soldiers around the Spartan. She donned a black sweater with tan cargo pants, wearing a tactical vest over her sweater. 
Delsin noticed her brown eyes and short black hair. Judging by her rugged and weathered face with small scars, she was a veteran combatant and the likely leader of this outfit. 
“If our guest wants to stand, let him. He has been accommodating for us from what I’ve heard, let’s grant him this request”. 
The young soldier backed away from the Spartan quickly, allowing the woman, who was only slightly taller than the gun-toting brat that threatened him, to face Delsin.
 
“It seems the UNSC troopers upgraded to this green armor. I have to say, maybe it’s the scratches and cuts, but I’m not impressed,” remarked the woman. 
“I’m not a regular trooper, ma’am”, Delsin responded meekly. 
“Oh? He has manners! That’s nice. So, tell me, what are you then, chiquito?” 
“I’m a Spar—“
Delsin bit his lip, stopping himself from finishing his sentence. “Special Forces, ma’am.” 
The woman raised an eyebrow in suspicion, clearly not buying that overly simple explanation, even if it was the truth. She smirked, as she motioned for the troopers to move in on Delsin. “Don’t worry, chico. We’ll get the answers we want soon enough. For now, please follow my soldiers to your new living quarters. It’s a bit cramped, and we haven’t fixed the roof, but the bed is sturdy!” 
Flanked by a pair of soldiers from each side, Delsin walked down the stairs off the landing pad, as the other soldiers and technicians entered into the hatch of Black Cat for search and inspection. Delsin walked past several soldiers and civilian workers alike across the station grounds, as they all gave him unwelcoming and suspicious looks. He even noticed one looming figure watching from a balcony of a steel building near the base’s runway, wearing normal, tattered clothing, flanked by two soldiers. 
“Hey, Chico!” yelled the woman from the top of the landing pad. A weary Delsin stopped and looked back up top, seeing his warden shoot a sarcastic sneer at him.
“Welcome to Curdan’s Keep, I hope you have wonderful stay in Paradise.”
===Chapter 9===
Two Sangheili warriors, adorned in their red armor, walked the darkened, purple corridors inside their grounded Covenant heavy corvette, which was undergoing some repairs after engaging some Human forces in orbit. The sleek, purple halls were still and silent, as the Elites conversed in their language, their guard completely relaxed as they walked to meet with their shipmaster. 
From the other end of the hall, a pair of bullets were zipping towards the aliens. 
Two bullets exited out of one Elite’s face, as his lifeless body fell face first. Startled, the other Elite turned around, drawing his Energy sword at the same time, seeing a nimble, green-armored figure charging at him, firing its silenced pistol before dropping it when it ran out of ammo. 
“A Demon?!” 
The green, armored figure jumped in the air, getting in a handstand on the Elite’s shoulders. The “Demon” then quickly turned her body around, before swinging back down and wrapping her arm around the Elite’s neck in a reverse chokehold. The Spartan wrenched on the neck until she could hear the sickening break, letting go of the limp body as soon it stopped moving. The Spartan, donning a CQC helmet outfitted with an uplink module and wearing her MJOLNIR Powered Assault Armor, briefly observed her handy work. She picked up her silenced sidearm that she dropped to perform the maneuver, slotting it back in on her left thigh. 
“Sierra Two-Five-Five, sitrep?” rang a female voice from her COM. 
“Inside the target vessel. Making my way to the target, ma’am,” responded the Spartan, her voice in a hushed tone. 
“Make it quick, Spartan. I don’t need you to be hanging around more than you need to.” 
Behind her helmet, Giulia rolled her eyes at the order. “Kill all the fun, why don’t ya? I’m closing on the HVT, Sierra out.” 
Giulia-B255, a Spartan Headhunter for Naval Special Warfare, was tasked with the neutralization of a Covenant special operations commander, as this alien warrior was wreaking havoc on UNSC troops on the planet of Freya IX, commanding specialized Covenant commandos in the field from the comfort of a Corvette hovering over the urban centres of the planet. Giulia was able to make her way onto the Indigo-colored, bulbous alien starship, thanks to a Banshee she hijacked from a nearby Covenant encampment.
Giulia jogged across the narrow corridor, her combat knife now in her right hand. She took a sharp left on the corridor, following the blue arrow on her HUD directing her to the ship’s bridge. She was getting closer to the command bridge located near the bow of the corvette, sidestepping or quietly putting down any aliens in her way. She was hoping to catch them off-guard by not triggering the alarm. 
“But where was the fun in that?” Giulia lamented, as she shoved her combat knife into a sleeping Grunt sitting in front of a purple door. The pointer on her HUD indicated she was at the target area. The door slid open, revealing a cavernous war bridge, and Giulia could see a gaggle of Elites walking around and looking at the holo-tank in front of them. Giulia dove towards a low purple barrier, hiding from plain view, as a few Elites looked back to find nothing as the purple door slid close. 
Giulia looked at her tracker on her HUD, indicating eight Elites were present in the room. She peeked over the barrier, spotting her target from the crowd of the typical red armored Elites; a white armored Sangheili, donning a special helmet covering the head completely, and ending downwards with a large curved projection. 
She ran through the multiple approaches in her head, as she slid her M45 shotgun off her back, and readied it with a pump. 
“Four…Three…Two…” 
The Spartan jumped over the barrier, sprinting to an unaware Sangheili who had its back turned to her. She jumped in the air and kneed the alien at the back of his skull, hearing a loud crack upon colliding. As she landed, a startled Sangheili next to her turned to see what had happened.
A loud buckshot into said Elite’s head rang out inside the room. 
The six remaining Elites, including the white-armored commander, became alert to the commotion, readying their Energy swords and activating their shields to engage the green-armored demon before them. 
“C’mon, splits, give me a fight worth my time”, Giulia mocked as she pumped her shotgun. 
One Elite charged her, swinging his sword widely. Giulia dove under it, as she fired her shotgun into its back, killing it instantly. Another tried to ambush her as it jumped towards her with its blade, only for it to be staggered by a swift strike, knocking its shields out, allowing Giulia to finish off the Sangheili by sweeping the legs, standing over the alien, and unloading another buckshot into its head.
 
Another Elite tried to stab her from behind, only to get the wind knocked out of him as Giulia elbowed him into its chest, sensing her attacker’s approach. She turned around and unloaded another shotgun blast into the dazed Sangheili. She pumped the forend of her weapon once more, and finished the Elite with a buckshot shattering its skull. 
“Counted six shots.”
Giulia turned around to see her final three opponents, including her target, staring her down. Knowing she was out and would not have time to reload, the Spartan threw her M45 to the side. She craned her neck, popping it, and unsheathed her combat knife, getting into her combat stance. Behind her helmet, Giulia cracked a smirk. The Spec Ops commander roared, clearly challenging her through his guttural cry.
“Alright, come on then.”
The Spartan charged, avoiding an errant Energy blade swing to the side, and shoving her combat knife into the neck of the Elite that swung at her. Removing the knife, she flung it into the eye of the last red-armored Elite approaching her, as its body fell back. Now, it was just the Spartan and the looming Elite before her, face-to-face, the holotank of the planet illuminating the darkened, war bridge, now with Sangheili bodies surrounding the two warriors left standing. The closed helmets staring at each other, awaiting the first move. 
Giulia made the first move.
As Giulia rushed forward, she avoided a thrust from the Elite’s sword. She wrapped around the Elite’s sword arm with her own, as she used her free hand to palm strike the Elite in its face, stunning him. She immediately broke the Elite’s sword arm, as she locked its arm straight and struck the elbow joint with her palm, the arm contorting upwards. The Elite yelped in pain, as it dropped the energy sword and staggered back. It looked at its broken arm, flailing the sagging limb around. The Sangheili commander looked back at his Demon foe, still at the ready with her arms up and fists clenched.
The Elite flung a desperate punch with its only able arm, which Giulia dodged as she responded with a vicious roundhouse kick that brought the barely-conscious Elite to its knees. Giulia approached and put the Elite in a front-faced guillotine chokehold, and began squeezing tighter and tighter. “Enjoy your Great Journey,” Giulia coldly mocked as she continued to crank at the neck. 
Giulia cranked back until she heard the sickening crack of a broken neck. She quickly let go, the Sangheili's body dropping to the ground. Giulia opened her COM, as she pulled her combat knife out of the eye of a nearby Sangheili corpse. 
“Control, target neutralized. On my way back.”
“Copy Sierra, take a Banshee from the Hangar bay and rendezvous at Firebase Warden,” a soft, female voice responded.
As Giulia picked up her shotgun, she noticed there was one Elite still alive, crawling away from her slowly. She quickly walked in front of him, stopping the Elite. The Spartan stared at the wounded alien for a bit. It was in pain, as her knee had clearly caved in the back of his skull. The Elite mumbled something, but struggled to create intelligible sentences, even in its alien language. 
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you, this will be over soon.” Giulia kneeled down, as she took the Elite’s arm over her shoulder, carrying it, and rested it in a sitting position on a purple barrier, getting the split-jawed alien warrior comfortable. She stood before the suffering alien warrior and pulled out her Pistol, as the Elite looked back at the golden visor staring back at him. Giulia raised the pistol to its forehead, and she motioned to her eyes to indicate to the alien to close them. The Sangheili nodded slightly in affirmation, and closed its eyes.
Two muffed shots echoed the bridge.
Giulia slid the pistol back on her thigh, as she exited out of the war bridge. The door closed behind her, as she entered into the purple corridor, where a lance of Covenant warriors ran down towards Giulia, the door sliding shut behind her.
Muffled shotgun blasts and the dying cries of Covenant aliens could be heard from behind the closed door.
In the courtyard of a once-beautiful public park that ran from a small lagoon on the right side, now riddled with plasma and bullet scarring and filled with Covenant comm nodes and supply crates scattered about, a gold-armored Elite General, the energy sword in his hand the only means of defense, ran out from the Pavilion, now surrounded by the corpses of Sangheili Ultras and Grunts. As it retreated into the courtyard, the split-jawed creature looked at the sole being responsible for this carnage, who emerged from the same Pavilion, trailing the Elite; a green-armored demon twirling her metal blade in her hands like a toy.
“It’s all over. Nowhere to run. You can come quietly as a prisoner, or you can try your luck!” yelled Giulia, letting the knife dance around her hands as she slowly walked up to the Sangheili General, the last survivor of the Covenant command post she was sent to neutralize, to boost efforts to retake the coastal city of Eleos from the Covenant invaders. 
The Elite roared in defiance, and prepared to charge headlong as its hand tightened its grip on the hilt of his blade. Giulia followed suit, bringing her shoulders in and ducking her head, as she held her knife like a hammer, pointed towards the Elite.
“I was hoping you say that.”
The Elite charged Giulia, swinging his blade fruitlessly as Giulia was able to dash and dodge from the slashes with ease. She waited for an opening as she did, and got it as she dodged a wild swing from the increasingly frustrated Elite. Getting behind her opponent with that dodge, Giulia climbed the Elite’s tall back, reaching its exposed neck.. She pulled back her knife-wielding arm, as the Elite tried to shake her off.
A swift jam into the back of the neck, and the Elite stopped flailing and fell to its knees. Giulia stood over her lifeless foe, pulling her knife out and flicking the purple blood off. A male voice came over her COM device inside her CQC helmet.
“Sierra Two-Five-Five, this is Sunray, how to copy?
“Go for Sierra.” Giulia slipped her combat knife back into her sheath on her armor chestplate, as she looked around the courtyard.
“Status on the Covenant command post?”
“Neutralized. It should help in taking back control of the city.”
“Negative, Sierra. We’re pulling out. The system is lost. Covenant vessels are overwhelming our battlegroup, a full retreat order has been issued. A couple of Hornets are on their way to extract you from the area and take you to Bluford Airbase for evac with remaining ground forces before the Covenant orbital bombardment."
“Again?!”
Giulia began to scour for her shotgun that she discarded when she ran out of ammo earlier during her raid. As she scrounged the courtyard for her weapon, flipping over alien corpses and looking over the overturned flaming wreckages of Ghosts, she couldn’t help but feel frustration boiling over. It was another day, and another planet lost. Another defeat. It was a recurring theme with her these past couple of months.
“What else can I do? Is there something else I have to do? How do I get stronger?”
No matter how hard she fought, how many lives she saved, how many Covies she killed, it was just never enough to stop the onslaught of glassed worlds. She was tired of watching the orbital bombardments that turned beautiful worlds into glass and ash from the observation deck of a cruiser on a near-weekly basis. She was tired of seeing maimed and dead Marines and troopers carried away and moving by her, watching graveyards of naval vessels torn into pieces by the superior Covenant starships as they retreated from system to system. 
She was just tired of it all.
Giulia wasn’t sure how she was going to keep her promise to herself and family, how she was going to protect those back at Earth if things continued the way they were going. She thought back to her stepfather and mother, how they fed her, clothed her, and taught her, and to her step siblings like Yoshi and Momo, who looked out for her when she was with them those first couple days. 
She was going to protect them, no matter what it took.
“Ahh, there you are," Giulia said with some glee, as she found her M45 shotgun, hidden underneath the corpse of a red-armored Elite that she blasted away earlier in the fight in the park’s garden. As she slid her weapon on her back, Giulia sensed something behind her and looked back at the courtyard. 
She saw an Elite, donning a glistening white harness with red streaks and symbols lined in and a face helmet with bright, blue eyes, standing behind her. After noticing the corpse of the Sangheili General nearby, this Elite immediately grabbed the hilt of its energy sword from his waist, igniting the blade. 
“Oh, did I upset you? Was this your buddy?” Giulia mocked. “If it helps, it was a quick death, but still, he kinda went out like a bitch.”
Suddenly coming into Giulia's view from behind some metal fencing nearby, two other white-armored Elites, both of them wielding a pair of plasma rifles. appeared and held their fire as they covered both flanks of the Spartan.
Giulia faced the trio of Elites, slipping out her trusted knife from the sheath on her chest as she got back in her CQC stance. As one Elite approached from Giulia’s right, the sword-wielding Elite put out its hand, and barked an order in its alien language. The dual-wielding Elite backed off, lowering its weapons slightly. Then, their leader approached, getting in his own stance with his energy sword, pointing it towards the Spartan.
“Oh, just you and me? Alright then, don’t disappoint me then. Show me what you got, split-jaw..”
Giulia and the Elite charged at each other, making simultaneous swings with their respective blades at each that they both dodged with side steps. Giulia leaned back to avoid another swipe, countering with a lunge that the Elite also avoided with a sidestep. The two warriors tried to land their fatal blows, but both demonstrated a keen talent for evasive movements, dodging, leaping, sidestepping each slash, lunge, and stab that came their way.
“Ok, Ok, this one ain’t a slouch, I’ll give it that. I guess I can’t goof off here.”
After flipping away from another swipe, Giulia went for a straight lunge into the Elite’s neck, only for it to bob his head away from the strike. The Elite spun around to land a back kick that pushed Giulia back hard, putting her on a knee as she clutched her ribs.
“Sonuva...Ok, ok, you wanna play, let’s play.”
Giulia charged, making another slash at the exposed neck of the Elite. The swing was interrupted by a block by the alien’s free arm. The alien quickly grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly to force the Spartan to drop her knife to the floor. As the Elite raised its blade-wielding arm to finish an open Giulia, it was immediately stunned by a desperate Somersault kick by the Spartan that struck the Elite on its lower jaws.
The Elite staggered back, as Giulia flipped back to get distance. Seeing an opening as the Elite tried to shake off its daze, Giulia charged in, and struck a series of short straight punches into the Elite’s torso area. The body blows that struck forced the Elite to move back, trying to regain its bearings while trying to defend itself at the same time with wild swings. After another jab made the Elite hunch over slightly, Giulia quickly grabbed the large head, driving it down to her rising knee. The vicious knee strike knocked the alien down, with his back falling to the floor, and sent the energy sword flying back.
“Good try, splits, but you’re done now.”
Seeing a chance to finish the fight, Giulia sweeped up her knife nearby and leaped into the air, as she tried a jumping strike onto the Elite to deliver the decisive fatal blow. However, the Sangheili intercepted her, recovering enough to block and grab her knife-wielding arm just before the tip of the blade reached its throat.
“Shit.”
With its superior strength, Elite’s arms pushed the knife and Giulia away from him slowly, as the Spartan tried to force the knife in with a futile push. Suddenly, one of the Sangheili’s large hooves came up and kicked Giulia square in her face, sending the Spartan flying back as she lost her knife again. Giulia rolled backwards, stopping as she got on one knee. Giulia’s eyes fluttered, as she was now in a daze of her own. 
“Is..is this what it feels like getting kicked by a horse?” wondered Giulia, as she noticed a crack running along her visor.
 
The Spartan and alien stood up at the same time, staring each other down. The pair of Elites paid close attention to the fight, studying their Ultra commander’s and the demon’s movements during that exchange with awe. Behind their helmets, both Spartan and Elites had eyes filled with focus and determination, realizing that a worthy warrior stood in front of them. With both now without their respective blades, it was clear to both that this fight was to be settled with their fists. 
Craning her neck till she heard the pop, Giulia switched into the fighting stance that her stepfather had taught her years ago, bending her knees slightly as she got her lead hand out, while holding her dominant right hand in fist and close to her chest. She starts to slightly bob up and down, keeping herself loose. The Elite returns the gesture, as it spreads its arms and widens its legs as if it were to tackle her. 
As both took their first steps for one last exchange, two lines of bullets kicked up near the Elite, forcing it to leap back.
Giulia turned and looked up to see a pair of small AV-14 Hornet VTOLs closing in on the courtyard, firing its twin machine guns at the Elites. The accompanying Elites fired their plasma rifles at the VTOLs, retreating behind some supply crates and the barricades to avoid the incoming fire.
“Spartan, hop in!” yelled the Pilot over Giulia’s COM. A hornet quickly landed in the courtyard, while the other continued to lay down suppressive fire on Covenant. Giulia ran and leaped onto the Hornet’s jump seat, which doubled as a landing skid. The Hornet quickly lifts off, and Giulia stares back down, hanging off the jump seat, to get one last look at her Sangheili foe, who was also watching from behind the cover of the barricade.
“...Better live long enough to settle our score, split-jaw.”
As she slid into her jump seat, flying the past the scarred streets below and zipping between blown-apart buildings, Giulia couldn’t help but feel some disappointment, a hinge-head that actually made her sweat in a fight and she didn’t get to finish it.
“Just as it was getting good.”
***
The Sangheili Ultra watched the two human aircraft disappear into the tall buildings ahead. The smoke from the structures concealed their movements, and the Sangheili realized that they would be long gone by the time the Banshees arrived. One of his subordinates approached, the hilt of an energy sword in its hands. “Delegatus Konaree, your blade.” Dyzo ‘Konaree turned to his subordinate, taking the hilt and sliding it back on its waist. 
“Thank you. Are you well my brothers?” 
“Yes, Delegatus. We are unharmed”, said the Elite solemnly, head bowed in respect.
“Good.”
“Delegatus, I have received reports that the humans are retreating, they have abandoned the city and their ships have begun to flee the world. Shall we give chase?”
“No, let the Banshees and Seraphs do their jobs. Besides, there is not much left to chase. Let them flee, we’ll find them again soon enough.”
The subordinate Elite looked up to see Konaree still gazing out at the skyline of the city, in the direction of the human ships.
“It was an excellent fight. You held your own against the Demon, and would have slain the filth, if it did not resort to cowardly tactics to escape.
“Cowardly? I fought no coward…”
As Dyzo walked around the desolate courtyard, inspecting the bodies of his fallen brothers, he realized that this demon was a formidable foe, seeing the wounds inflicted on the corpses. He noticed something glistened near a bush, and walked over to it. Crouching down to inspect the object, he picked a steel blade, inspecting closely.
The same blade that the demon was using.
“Urvo, call for a Phantom, let us leave before this place becomes glass.”
“Yes, Konaree.” The two Sangheili left Dyzo’s side, as they manned a nearby Comm node to carry out his order.
Using this opportunity, Dyzo tucked the blade into its harness. It was forbidden to carry human weapons or trinkets, but this wasn't a trophy. It was a reminder. To know that the humans cannot be underestimated, and, if the opportunity arises, to hand the blade back to the demon in their next encounter.
“Survive Demon, let us finish what we started.”
Giulia, still in her Mark IV armor and holding her CQC helmet close to her waist, sauntered the cramped metal corridors of the Prowler, moving past other crew members that walked by her. Wearing a confident smile, Giulia nodded and greeted the passing by crewmembers, making her way to the small armory on the ship. Giulia was only a few months into her new assignment, but felt she was where she needed to be. 
After some combat deployments with her fireteam, the Spartan Commando was quietly transferred out of Beta Company, due to her unique combat talents, and she was now to be a Headhunter, doing special operations for Naval Special Warfare Command. Giulia was not fond of leaving behind her team, let alone Beta Company. However, she knew this was an opportunity to do more than what she was already doing. Ackerson was rather convincing in his reasoning for transfer, and Commander Ambrose approved. So, who was she to refuse?
Giulia desired to be stronger, to protect those close to her, including the family she left behind on Earth. This was the best way she could achieve her goals.
It was the only way.
A small, petite woman, in her naval officer’s garb, came up to Giulia as the Spartan was about to enter through the steel doors of the armory.
“Spartan, your presence is needed for the bridge," the woman remarked. Giulia shot an affirming nod, as she followed her messenger down to the corridor to the bridge. Waltzing into the bridge, Giulia locked eyes with the Captain, a weathered, gray-haired older man, with the most relaxing eyes she had ever seen, standing in front of a window looking out to space. 
“Spartan. I take it your mission went well?”
The bridge was calm, as the other officers focused on the pads, panels, and screens in the room.
“Business as usual, Captain.”
Suddenly, the monitor behind the Captain switched from its star map and other numbers to a live feed of a darkened command center from another location. Suddenly, a long-haired, redheaded woman in a gray sweat jacket appeared. She wore a relaxed, but stern face as she took seat in front of her camera.
“Ma’am! It’s nice to see you again”, said the Spartan in an excited, gleeful tone.
“Likewise, Spartan. Sorry that I couldn’t be there in person. It seems we’ll have to delay our little rematch”.
Giulia lightheartedly sulked, as she sarcastically snapped her fingers. “I’m going to hold you to that, Ma’am. Hey, I used the arm breaker technique you taught me in our spar.”
Liberatore smirked, which quickly faded as soon as it arrived.
 
“Well, I’m glad it came in handy. But, I wish you used your weapons more often and not take such risks in CQC”. Giulia rolled her eyes as she heard those words leave the woman’s mouth. “Alright, Mom.” Giulia sarcastically responded with a childish tone.
“Gooden” said the redhead as she turned her attention to the Captain.
“Liberatore” the Captain replied respectfully.
“How close are you to the next AO?”
“Hours away, ma’am.”
“Good, we need the Spartan there soon for this op. I will send over the mission briefing in thirty mikes. Giulia, Weathers will give you the briefing over your next operation.”
“Looking forward to it, Ma’am”. Giulia turned to head to the briefing station, taking a few steps before being suddenly stopped.
“There is one more thing, Spartan. You need, uh, to hear this.”
Giulia returned her focus on the monitor. She noticed a slight change in Liberatore’s demeanor, her eyes looking down as she slightly bit her lip.” There is something wrong though”, Giulia noted, as she became slightly more attentive to the large monitor, paying close attention to the Lieutenant Commander's facial expressions.
Liberatore looked up to the camera, where Giulia’s eyes met hers.“I was hoping to tell you this when there was some downtime. However, the news is better to hear now than later.”
Karina slipped out a small sigh.
“About a week ago, Beta Company conducted an operation to take out a key Covenant factory in the 51 Pegasi System. They were successful, as the entire facility was apparently wiped from the galaxy.”
Giulia smiled in satisfaction. She had no doubts that her former team and the other Beta Company Spartans could handle a mission like this. She never felt more pride in her comrades than she did now. However, she noticed the small frown creeping along on Liberatore’s face.
“Ma’am, what’s wrong? This is good news, right?”
“Giulia, there is no easy way to say this. So, I’ll be straight. Intel underestimated Covenant strength and Beta Company took heavy casualties. The Spartans were still able to set off the explosives, but it took out the entire area within seconds”.
Giulia’s face turned confused and concerned.
“Ma’am, I don’t underst—“
“Giulia, the entire Company was wiped out. As far as I know, all three hundred of your fellow Spartans are…” The bridge became silent, as the news reached the ears of anyone in the small room. It was clear what Liberatore was getting at. 
“Giulia, I’m sorry. Take a bit of time for yourself if you need it. I’ll reconnect once you arrive at the AO.”
The live feed ended, as the monitor switched back to the all-familiar all-seeing eye logo of ONI before going black. Captain Gooden and the crewmembers on the bridge all looked towards the green-armored Spartan, who remained still as she stared blankly at the monitor.
Giulia was in shock, her dark eyes were confused with her familiar smile practically gone from her visage. There were no tears, cries, or anything else. Just pure shock and a blank face. 
“Spartan, are you alright? Do you need some time?” asked the Captain, as he approached her, placing his wrinkled hand on her armored shoulder.
“Of course, Captain, I need a--. Hold on. Just give me a bit of time, Captain.” Keeping her head down, Giulia rushed out of the ship's bridge, as she brushed past other Prowler personnel as she marched down the steel corridor. She noticed an empty quarters and rushed through the doorway, as she slammed the button that slid the door shut behind her.
Giulia sat on the bed, her face blank and white as a sheet. 
“No... No. They aren’t-, no, that can’t be right”
The thoughts of her old team ran through her head, as Giulia recalled the faces of her three teammates. She remembered their training, the bonding, and the brief moments she fought alongside them during CARTWHEEL. She remembered their smiles, the jokes they told, standing by each other in the toughest times.
Now, these memories were all she had.
“Kaito, Daria, Ahmed…”
She remembered training with Kaito, bettering herself because he brought the best out of her. Daria’s loud and stupid wisecracks that never failed to make her laugh and Ahmed’s cool head and oozing confidence that made the entire team feel unstoppable.
They were all gone. Just like that.
Tears began to stream down Giulia’s cheeks, as the realization slowly began to hit. She would never see them again, and she was not there. Not there to make a difference.
“I should’ve been there. I could have—“
Then, a flash of other faces from Beta Company she met flooded her thoughts. Adam, Arlo, Lucy, Jericho, Delsin, Eris, and an endless sea of her brothers and sisters in arms that she came across at Onyx. Faces she would never see again. Giulia tightly held her mouth, as she tried to stop herself from yelling as the tears flowed down her cheeks. 
She could not hold it back any longer.
Giulia let out an agonized howl through her mouth. It was muffed, but loud enough for a few passing crewmembers to stop in their tracks, as they heard the agonized scream from behind the steel door that they walked by.
Several minutes passed by and the door slid back open, revealing Giulia. now wearing her CQC helmet, as she headed back to the bridge for her briefing. The Spartan walked with purpose, and renewed resolve. She remembered that promise she made when becoming a Spartan. Behind that visor, Giulia eyes, red and strained from her sobbing, were no longer relaxed and jovial.
Those eyes now seared with determination and renewed vigor.
==Part III: Come Together==
===Chapter 10===
In the darkened room, with the monitors covering the wall in front of her and other ONI analysts and technicians sitting at their desks, Karina Liberatore, wearing her gray naval officer’s uniform and her red hair in a ponytail, watched closely on the large main monitor. She observed the live feed of a Spartan headcam, with a yellow name, “Giulia-B255”, on the lower left corner of the screen, with a timestamp just below it.
On the feed, Karina could see the Spartan navigating through the dense jungles of a moon that she was deployed to, hidden by the midnight sky above. She watched as the Spartan pushed through the shrubbery and tall plants, leaping over fallen tree trunks, and running through an empty river bed surrounded by trees. She watched the feed attentively, looking for anything off.
“Sierra, what is the ETA for your arrival at the objective?”
“Ten mikes, ma’am.”
“Good, be snappy about it, Spartan.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No backtalk? No snark? Jesus, she has been taking it hard.”
Normally, Karina would be telling the overly-playful Spartan to double time it, and the Spartan would reply with sarcasm and teasing. 
Now? The Spartan responds quickly and directly, never cracking wise. 
Since she broke the news about Beta Company nearly being massacred on some suicide mission, there was a change in Giulia’s behavior. Even when Karina told Giulia about there being two survivors later on, it is as if the news did not register with the Spartan at all.
As if they were still dead to her.
Ever since then, Giulia had quadrupled her efforts. She became more efficient, if it was even possible for a Spartan of her caliber. She stopped taking needless risks, like engaging Covenant in needless hand-to-hand action and stopped rushing headfirst in any situation. She trained herself in a wider range of weaponry, such as Battle Rifles and DMRs, even though she was far more proficient with CQC weapons, like shotguns and SMGs. 
“Closing in ma’am, five mikes till I’m on the site”, chimed Giulia, as Karina watched her leap over a ridge, sliding down a grassy slope into a forested valley.
On one hand, it was nice to see Giulia mature and refine her approach in battle. On the other, it was clear she took the news very hard. Even in between missions, there was a subtle shift in Giulia’s behavior.
Sure, she would see that Giulia was still sociable, respectful, and was still shooting out smiles to everyone she met on the ships and bases. However, the small talk was shorter; she was training longer and harder, and was volunteering for more missions on a constant basis. These last couple of months, Giulia spent more time in the field than on the Prowlers and Cruisers, hopping system to system for her next battle.
It saddened Karina to see a young girl lose her innocence so quickly. Then again, Giulia was a Spartan, she was built for this and, if Humanity was to survive, Spartans like her are needed for this war. Besides, it is not like she could not help guide the young one through such difficulties.
After all, she was like her once, a Spartan.
Karina watched as Giulia’s helmet cam showed the Spartan peer over grassy ledge, where a large Covenant encampment came into view below, as Grunts and Elites were moving metallic devices and pieces along the valley, as they constructed extractor devices and structures for some kind of supply base.
“Objective in sight ma’am.”
“You know what to do, Sierra, get to work.”
A lone, blue-armored Elite, armed with his plasma rifle, stood atop a grassy ledge, overlooking the busy construction site for a Field Assembly Forge. Surrounded by tall trees the Sangheili looked down, seeing Grunts and Elite busy constructing recharge stations and small refineries on the plains below, as they had been working around the clock for days on end. The Sangheili yawned, looking up towards the night sky, seeing the two orbiting moons in the night sky.
It was the last thing he would see.
A swift strike from a flying knee forces the Elite face first into the grass. A green-armored Spartans leaps in the air, violently landing on the Elite’s head with a double foot stomp. A sickening crunch could be heard, as purple blood spurts out from underneath her feet. The Spartan jumps off, ignoring her handiwork, as she crouches to avoid being spotted.
“I’m in position” states Giulia over the COM, as she crouched over the ledge to get a view of the Covenant encampment herself with her binoculars, where she took note of the dozens upon dozens of Covenant warriors, Elites, Jackals, Grunts, and even a few Drones, scattered about the entire area. She also spotted a large, round, bulbous structure at the center of grassy plains, likely acting as a command bunker of some kind, dubbed “Citadels" in the intel reports. She took note of the familiar, bulbous purple mortar tanks, Wraiths, and the pinkish, sleek, winged, insect-like vehicles, Ghosts, that sat parked in several rows and columns on the grassy plains. Giulia also picked out the purplish, vibrant recharge stations at the edges of the encampment, and noted other small Covenant watchtowers and barriers placed all around the jungle plains. Giulia also spotted a lone Phantom, floating at the far end of the valley, as if the large, curved, purple aircraft was waiting for someone. 
It was clear the Covenant were building something massive here.
“Got my work cut out for me.”
Giulia was deployed behind Covenant lines for a covert sabotage mission on the planet of Angitia, a desolate, jungle world now being used as a Covenant forward staging post for incursions into UNSC space. Covert recon drones discovered supply bases, refineries, and other military installations were under construction.The entire planet became key point in Covenant logistics, and wreaking havoc on these Covenant facilities would lengthen the supply lines for their fleet and slow their advance.
This was where Giulia came in, as she was covertly inserted into the world to take out Covenant supply hubs and stations before jetting out of system. She had already taken care of a Covenant communications outpost, blowing it sky high, while also leaving a Covenant motorpool of some kind in a burning heap of purple-blue flames.
Now, she needed to deal with this monstrosity before her.
Something caught Giulia’s attention at the corner of her vision, as she noticed a group of crimson red and orange-armored Elites emerging from behind the base of the Citadel in what looked like ceremonial headgear, wielding Energy swords. She focused her attention on them, as these Elites were surrounding a figure she could not see.
“Control, are you seeing this?”
“Copy, stand by…”
As that last transmission ended, Giulia saw a lithe, gangly figure with a serpentine neck and elongated emerge in front of the Elites, sitting on some kind of floating throne. This alien was draped in a white cloth, with white, gold-trimmed headwear. Giuilia watched as this alien entered into the Citadel’s central keep resting on the grasslands, amidst the trees and shrubbery. 
“Ma’am?”
“Copy on that visual, Spartan. That is a Prophet. They hold significant religious and political power in the Covenant. This one probably has military significance considering it is all the way out here. Mission just became more vital, Sierra”
“Copy that. Going radio silent, Control.” Giulia switched her COM device, to ensure that her communications weren’t intercepted and detected by the Covenant. It was enough of a risk just talking to her now.
Giulia slid her binoculars behind her, next to the small, low-yield FENRIS tactical nuclear bomb hanging behind her back. Giulia quickly leaped over the grassy ledge and climbed her way down to the jungle plains below. She rushed in, evading two sleeping Grunts near a Comm node, and dove behind a purple Covenant barricade, where a Grunt was sleeping just beyond the barrier.
A hand snatched the startled Grunt, dragging it behind the barrier, where the sounds of knife piercing flesh and muffled alien yelps could be barely heard. Sheathing her combat knife, Giulia peered over, seeing a pair of Elites conversing by a purple, blocky Covenant weapon repository, relaxed and their blue plasma rifles pointed down to the ground.
Taking out her silenced pistol, Giulia quickly peeked out, aiming her pistol at the unaware aliens.
Two shots, two lifeless Elite corpses on the floor. Giulia dragged their corpses by the collar of their body armor, hiding them behind the barrier with her.
“Their shields aren’t activated, Good. I could get this done quickly.”
She was just supposed to set the bomb and get out quickly, but the Prophet’s presence changed everything, now she needed to “confirm” the kill before she could set off the FENRIS. There was too much risk of escape, when the device was on timer for more than 30 minutes. 
Giulia ran out from behind a purple barricade, as she sprinted to a Wraith, finding cover on its rear. She slightly peered over the tank, watching another pair of Elites walk by her and the Wraith. With their backs turned, she quietly bolted past them. She floated and weaved past other Covenant vehicles and barricades, avoiding the roaming alien sentries, before finding herself in cover behind a purple recharge station, surrounded by defense barriers.
“So far, so good.”
Giulia turned and moved to the outside of a squared purple warehouse filled with plasma and supply crates, hugging the wall with her shotgun ready. As she reached the edge of the building, she found the Citadel’s towering keep, where the Prophet was likely inside. Between her and the entranceway into the Keep was wide, open ground, with a towering methane-mining device in between being her
“I can’t stop now.”
Giulia sprinted to the structure, hoping she was quick enough to reach it. She galloped over the grass and rocks swiftly, never hesitating. Within seconds, the Spartan crashed her body into the metal base of the structure. She glanced around, no Covenant noticed yet, and she could see the entranceway was one good sprint away. Giulia dashed out from behind the Covenant drilling device and out to the open ground again.
“That’s it. Keep it goin'.”
All of sudden, she felt a sharp, sudden pain in her right side, as her energy shields went out. Blaring, repetitive beeping rang her ears, noticing on her HUD that the blue bar over her eyes was empty, and blinking red.
“What happened?!”
Giulia stopped in her tracks, and looked up to her right, where a large, bulky tree loomed over the area on the ridge. On a large tree branch, wide enough to walk on with two feet, Giulia spotted the familiar bird-like frame of a Jackal perched on the floor, its deadly purple Beam Rifle trained on her.
“Sniper. I should’ve known.”
A beam round flew right past her back, nearly hitting the FENRIS device. Giulia regained her focus, shrugging off the pain she felt, and began running back behind the cover of the methane mining drill, avoiding another beam that whizzed behind her head. She took cover to avoid the Sniper’s gaze, and to let her shields recharge to their full strength. 
Alerted by the firing and commotion, dozens and dozens of Elites, Grunts and Jackals around the grassy valley rushed to the statute in front of the Covenant Keep. Giulia looked around to see the endless lances of alien warriors surrounding her, their plasma weapons at the ready. The Elites activated their shields, as a bright shimmer covered their entire bodies briefly. The Spartan reached over her shoulder to get her shotgun, pumping it and aiming it at the approaching Covenant warriors around her.
“Shit, I’ve been had.” 
Giulia could see that she was surrounded, and tried running different plans of attack. All of them ended with her being ripped by plasma fire. “Dammit, Giulia, you should’ve known better!” she thought, agonizing at what different steps she could have taken.
Out of the Keep’s entranceway, the Prophet emerged, flanked by his crimson-colored Sangheili guards. Giulia turned her focus to the skeletal, lanky alien, sitting on his floating throne. 
The Spartan and Prophet locked eyes; the alien wore a smug grin, waving the Spartan off as it turned its back to leave with its bodyguards. The ugly-as-hell alien said something to the Elite in its alien language, clearly giving out an order of some kind. With its Elite Guards shielding the Prophet, Giulia could only watch as the Prophet and his guard approached and boarded the nearby Phantom, the bulbous, dark pink ship darting off from her view.
Suddenly, Giulia’s COM came back to life, with Karina’s panicked voice coming over the line. “Giulia, listen, we need to—“. Giulia cut her off before Karina finished her order.
“Ma’am, it’s been an honor.”
The COM became silent for a few moments, as Giulia held her focus on the encircling aliens slowly approaching. Judging by the fact they had not fired, they were going to try to take her alive, probably what that gangly alien ordered before it left. 
She was not going to give them the satisfaction. 
“I’ve got about 10 seconds, at best, before my shields go out. So, I’ve got to be quick on the draw. I’ll crouch down; it’ll buy maybe an extra second or two”.
For another few seconds, Giulia calculated how long her shields could hold for her to set off the FENRIS device, believing it would be enough.
The COM came back on.
“The honor was all mine, Giulia.” 
Giulia let out a smile to the response, and she slowly moved her left hand off the shotgun’s pump, readying it to reach for the device. Suddenly, memories of Kaito, Diana, Ben, Adam, Min, Delsin, Red, and all the Beta Company Spartans she trained and fought alongside came to her like a small movie of memories. 
Tears began to well in the corner of her eyes.
“I hope I made you all proud, guys.”
A blue-armored Sangheili, with plasma rifles in their hands, advanced with other Covenant warriors following close behind it. Giulia slowly moved her left hand closer to her backside as she watched it get closer, waiting for the moment to arrive.
Her final moment.
“BANG.”
An armor-piercing round flew into the right side of the Elite’s skull, and the lifeless alien crumpled to the floor. The Covie warriors were dumbstruck by the sight, and Giuilia’s eyes widened with surprise, pulling her hand away from the device on instinct.
“BANG…BANG.”
Another round went into a pair of Grunts, killing them both in one shot, while another entered through the eye socket of a stunned Sangheili.
The COM crackled with an unfamiliar, stern male voice.
“I suggest you do something other than standing there like a moron.”
Another round hit a Covenant power node resting near a pile of plasma batteries, causing a set of explosions behind Giulia that tore through the Covenant warriors that were caught near the batteries and node, sending their scarred bodies scattered across jungle plains. This created a hole in their encirclement.
“There’s your way out, now move!”
As bewildered Covenant forces opened fire on the sniper in the building, Giulia frantically galloped to the opening of the encirclement. She hurtled and leaped over the Covenant bodies and debris, as a flurry of green and blue bolts flew past her. An Elite, on its knees and disoriented from the blast, slowly stood up, only for Giulia to crack the unaware Elite’s head with a running knee as she sprinted into a row of parked Wraiths nearby.
“Is that like an ODST? I thought they were busy with the Covenant armories on the other side of the planet.” Giulia knew that Orbital Drop Shock Troops, from the Special Purpose Forces, were deployed on Angitia for similar direct action operations, but she figured that they were in different regions.
As another shot rang out followed by an explosion, Giulia turned mid-run to see another explosion where the methane drill was, the area now engulfed in a blue, plasma explosion that consumed other Covenant warriors that were giving chase to the Spartan. “Who is this guy? He’s one helluva shot to hit a device in the right spot precisely from that distance.” thought Giulia, seeing the chaos and distracted Covenant warriors desperately firing their weapons at the sniper picking them apart. 
Giulia took cover behind Wraith, catching her breath. She suddenly remembered her FENRIS device, pulling it out to examine its condition. She set the timer for forty minutes, armed it, and shoved it into the opening hole of the exhaust port on the back of the Wraith.
She noticed a column of parked Ghosts, and smiled in relief as she began to piece together her escape plan.
***
With a volley of green and blue plasma bolts crashing around him, a black armored Spartan, clad in his prototype Mark IV ZACHARIAS power armor and crouching on one knee, reloaded his SRS99 Sniper Rifle, loading in a fresh magazine and pulling on the charging handle. Next to him was a Jackal face down in a pool of purplish blood, the aftermath of a blade cutting across its throat. 
At the corner of his view, he watched as the green-armored Spartan he just saved jumped in a Ghost, and watched the ugly pink, winged vehicle rush out and disappear into the jungle tree line.
“Fuckin’ hell, that was close. She was really going to blow us all to hell. Hopefully, that screw-up is out of my hair now.”
Looking through his wide sniper scope, undisturbed by the barrage of incoming plasma bolts, the Spartan picked out his next four victims, four red-armored Elites directing traffic in the chaos. He could see those aliens barking orders to attack his little Sniper’s nest, while trying to organize a pursuit of the escaped Spartan. 
Ryne fired off four successive shots at his targets, and now they were no longer in charge. 
As the last round blew the Elite’s skull apart, the clad –in-black Spartan threw his rifle down, now out of ammunition, and slid his DMR off his back. He began to sprinkle fire below, picking off cowering Grunts and retreating Jackals, wanting to get a few more kills in before leaving the area.
Suddenly, a female voice came over his COM.
“This is Sierra Two-Five-Five. To the sniper in the tree, get ready, I’m coming up the ridgeline to pick you up”.
Behind his yellow visor, Ryne rolled in his eyes, and shook his head at the transmission.
“Negative, Sierra. I can handle myself, and I have my own mission. I do not nee—“
“This is not a request, unless you want to be evaporated by a second sun,” the female snapped back, cutting Ryne off before he could finish his response. Her wording for a second or two mystified Ryne, but his eyes enlarged as he realized what she meant.
“….she didn’t…”
“I’ve set the timer for forty minutes, and we already burned through five minutes I think. So, get your ass out here, now!” yelled the voice on his COM again.
“She did…”
Ryne slid his DMR on his back, as he quickly walked over the edge of the tree branch. The Spartan looked down, seeing a two-story drop to the solid grassy ground below. Without any hesitation, Ryne jumped, landing on the ground
“Coming up on you.”
Within several seconds, as the Ghost engaged its boosters, the small, speedy vehicle reached Ryne, parking right next to the tree and him, the green-armored driver watched Ryne cling on the edge of the Ghost.
“Another Spartan? Neat! Thanks for the he—“
“Shut up and drive!” yelled a flustered Ryne, who was panicking internally that the bomb could go off at any second.
“Oh, right. Sorry”.
With Ryne hanging off the top of the vehicle, the Ghost sped off down the dirt pathway, flying over fallen tree trunks and flora, as it raced through the jungle trees. Ryne, hanging on the front of the Ghost with all his grip strength, saw a pair of Ghosts, driven by Grunts, tailing them in pursuit. Ryne grabbed his DMR and aimed it with his one free hand, holding on to dear life with the other. As the Ghost bounced up and down, Ryne tried to line up his rifle, his eyes trying to align the pathway.
“PANG…PANG.”
Ryne fired off two shots, one ricocheting off the hull of the lead Ghost pursuing them and the other round hitting the tip of the head of the Grunt driver of said Ghost. The dead Grunt fell out of the driver, which forced its now unmanned Ghost to spin out in front of the other Ghost, crashing into it and creating a blue inferno that blew both vehicles into pieces. Giulia looked back behind her to get a glimpse of the wreckage behind her, looking back at Ryne, who slid his rifle on his back, and grabbed the Ghost again with both hands tightly. 
“Holy shit. What a shot.”
After twenty minutes, with the sun reaching its highest point on the planet, the Ghost climbed over another ridge, as it glided across into the grasslands as they tried to get out of the bomb’s proximity. The Ghost went into a gulley, vanishing into the jungle forests.
===Chapter 11===
In a small hollow, covered by drooping grass and vegetation, two Spartans took a rest inside the dirt burrow, not saying a word to each other, as they minded their own business. The Ghost was sitting just outside, resting on the grasslands.
Giulia, sitting next to her CQC helmet, fiddled with her fingers as she stared at the dirt below her, alone in her thoughts. Ryne, also with his helmet off, was busy looking at his TACMAP on his wrist, trying to plan out his next move. Giulia meekly looked over to the blonde-haired Spartan, observing his black armor and his perturbed scowl.
“I think he’s mad. Oh yeah, definitely pissed.”
As Ryne looked back at Giulia, she turned away quickly, pretending she was looking around the small cave. The small cove was filled with an awkward and uneasy silence; it bothered Giulia to no end that this Spartan barely acknowledged her existence. Letting out an anxious exhale, Giulia stood up and approached Ryne, who was still fiddling with the wrist pad.
“Just wanted to say Hi. I’m Giulia by the way, tag number B255.”
Giulia stuck out her hand, but Ryne was still fixated on his TACMAP on his wrist, pressing and swiping his finger on it. It was as if he did not hear her. After awkwardly standing there with her hand still out for several seconds, Giulia slowly put her hand down.
“So, uh, I just wanted to say thanks, for saving my ass back there. I owe y—“
“I didn’t do that to save you, I did that to save myself.” scoffed Ryne, still not looking at Giulia.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Ryne sighed, as he pointed behind Giulia towards the view outside the cave. A small mushroom-shaped cloud laid on the horizon beyond the woods, where the Covenant encampment used to be. 
“What about it?” asked Giulia, confused by what Ryne was trying to convey. Ryne finally looked at her, wearing an exasperated look, as if she was some kind of idiot. “You were about to blow yourself up. I saw you through my scope, reaching for that device that was hanging off your hip. However, I would also be caught in your suicide boom, and I have better things to do than dying needlessly because you screwed up.”
Giulia's eyes narrowed in annoyance, clearly feeling the disrespect from this Spartan’s tenor. “How do you know I was going to blow myself up?” Giulia glibly asked. “How do you know I wasn’t doing something else?”
“Oh, so you weren’t reaching for the FENRIS behind your back? Tell me, what were you doing with your free hand? Pulling a second shotgun out of your ass? Don’t play with me, dumbass.” The unfeeling sarcasm and resentment dripped from Ryne’s remarks, only causing Giulia’s face to furrow in agitation. 
“Prick,” Giulia whispered under her breath. 
Ryne turned back down to his TACPAD on his wrist. “Anyways, I’m busy right now. I’m trying to track my target, since you scared him off.” Ryne hoped she would stop bothering him with her blabber, hoping he made it clear he was not interesting in small talk,
“That Prophet was your mission?” Giulia asked again. Ryne sighed; clearly, she did not get the message.
“Yes, and your stunt at the square drove him off. Now, I am back at square one, and I need to find him before he gets off-planet. So, if you don’t mind...”
Giulia frowned as she turned back, walking to pick her helmet up. Clearly, this asshole was not interested in any kind of company. She slid her green CQC helmet back on, her short, dark hair disappearing from view. She began to pump and inspect her shotgun, making sure it was free of defects, but also to stop herself from mingling with that jerk. 
“God, I can’t believe I would find someone that was more of an asshole than Karina. I can’t believe that’s something I would ever say.”
Giulia had dropped out of contact with Liberatore when they left the city outskirts, but not before relaying that she had escaped her jam. She could not make out the last transmission before losing contact, making out only a few garbled words. She was hoping to hear from her soon, if only to break up the silent tension now consuming the whole cave.
Suddenly, Giulia’s COM came back to life.
“Sierra Two-Five-Five, this is Control. Do you read?” Giulia smiled, hearing the familiar crabby voice of Karina in her ears. Ryne also noticed Giulia’s body language shift, as she stopped what she was doing.
“This is Sierra. Go Control”, Giulia replied, as Ryne stopped and paid attention to the Beta near him. 
“She got in contact with someone.” Ryne could hear her brief remarks, like “Yes, ma’am”’ and “Understood”, trying to piece together the exchange, but she was not exactly giving detailed responses.
“Copy, I’ll get it done.” Giulia then turned to see the now-attentive face of the blonde-haired prick, seeing that he had been watching her and was no longer screwing with his TACPAD. She impishly grinned underneath her helmet, knowing he was curious about her conversation. 
“Oh, now he’s interested in what I have to say? Let’s see how this asshole is gonna take this news...”
“You got in contact?” asked Ryne, as he picked up his black Operator helmet resting on a small boulder inside the hollow. Ryne watched Giulia approach, as she slid her shotgun on her back. “I’ve got new tasking from my superiors.” answered Giulia, cranking her neck and stretching her arms out to loosen herself up.
“Well then, have fun and don’t try to get yourself killed, because I'm not gonna bail you out next time.” Sliding his helmet back on, Ryne began to head out of the cave, ready to track the escaped Prophet's movements. However, Ryne was stopped in his tracks, as Giulia held her hand out in front of his chest armor. Ryne looked at the Spartan, his visor hiding his confused eyes.
“You’re going to want to hear this.”
***
“Un-fucking-believable...”
Ryne stewed and seethed as he pushed and shoved past the bushes and vegetation while trekking the forest, closing in on his target. He briefly looked back, seeing Giulia closely following him, as she watched the rear while they trekked through the forest. 
“Why the hell would they give her my assignment? I can handle this crap all by myself!”
Ryne was trying to wrap his head around the news that Giulia was now tasked with killing the Prophet on this planet. His mission. According to her words, the mocking tone of her voice when she told him still echoing in Ryne’s thoughts, ONI seemed to think Ryne was taking too long, and now she was tasked to finish his mission, since Ryne dropped out of contact and they could only assume he failed.
Ryne could not believe it, jis combat record as a Headhunter spoke for itself; Ryne proved he could handle anything on his own. For nearly seven years, Ryne has assassinated several Covenant commanders, wiped entire Covenant strongholds and outposts off planets, and his kill count was in the triple digits. 
All of these acts, all done by himself, and it meant nothing. 
“I would be done with the mission if she didn’t botch her own mission. I don’t understand. They know I am capable. Why saddle me with deadweight?!”
Now, Ryne had this annoying Beta Company brat tagging along. He could tell that she enjoyed this new wrinkle, feeling the Spartan’s smirk behind her visor as she told him the news about an hour ago. Someone who got herself in a situation he had to fix. He could not understand what made this girl so special that she was just given his mission. 
However, there was no time to moan and whine, as the task was still at hand. 
ONI surveillance drones scanning the planet located a Covenant excavation site. The UAV drones were able to locate the Prophet’s Phantom at the site, and even spotted the target inspecting the site and conversing with the Split-Jaw commanders, protected by his guard/ It wasn’t far from where the Spartans were, so the hike through the densely-covered woods wouldn’t take more than an hour. 
As Ryne shoved a brush away and stomped over some flora, he found himself at the edge of a small ridge, overlooking a valley below. Right in front of him, resting in the flat plains below, Ryne could see the familiar shaping of purple structures and figures of Covenant warriors moving around in some encampment being built. 
As Giuilia pulled up behind him, joining the Spartan in observing the valley below, Ryne pulled out his binoculars, scanning the Covenant excavation site. Zooming in, Ryne spotted a horseshoe shaped building with four gates in its base, neighboring the dig site below. It was like the head of some giant insect, with mandibles extending to surround a courtyard and a door set between its jaws. 
Switching focus, Ryne examined the excavation site, surrounded by dense jungles, as he noticed Covenant Elites and Grunts walk around the stone ruins and rocky totems that towered the site. He could see the Covies moving around crates, walking about, and just staring at the carvings within those ruins.
However, he did not locate the target. The Prophet was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, the purple doors of the Covenant outpost slid open, Ryne spotted something that caused him to mutter “crap”; a pack of gorilla-like, hulking aliens were thumping into the site, shoving past Grunts and brandishing their signature spike rifles and red plasma rifles. The ape-like Brutes marched through an underground passageway nearby, within the site itself, and disappeared from his view.
“What is it? Giulia asked, as she began to take out her own binoculars to observe the site below.
“Brutes. Those bastards aren’t going to make it easier for us”.
“Neat.” Giulia answered with a slight hint of excitement in her voice. Ryne looked back at her, shaking his head in disapproval as he slid his DMR from his back, and began to attach a silencer to it.
“So, let’s just get closer, and wait for the Prophet to emerge, so I can put a bullet in its ugly dome and we can leave for the exfil.”
“What about the dig site? We’re going to leave that alone?” Giulia asked, still observing the valley below.
Ryne, of course, wanted to wipe the dig site out, but the Prophet was the priority, and then fighting through an entire Covenant force was going to be a challenge that may not be worth all the trouble, especially since Ryne doubted that this girl could keep up with him.
“Well, I’ve got a better idea.” Giulia plainly stated, putting her binoculars away as she readied her silenced sidearm.
“Blowing ourselves up is not an idea,” Ryne glibly snapped.
“Funny. Maybe don't be so slow? Maybe they would not have me picking up your slack and we would be off this dirt heap sooner.” Giulia’s sarcasm and teasing was starting to get to Ryne, as he bit his lip to stop himself from talking back. 
“Listen here, jerk. How about you provide overwatch over at the ledges, while I get in and do my thing. Easy, right?”
Ryne looked at his new, green-armored headache, her hand gripping her silent pistol tightly and the gold visor staring intently at him. 
“Pshhh. Fine. We’ll do it your way, but my focus is on the Prophet. I’m not gonna bail you out if you screw up again.” Giulia looked over the edge of the ridge, seeing a dirt slope that could soften their jump over the ridge.
“You won’t need to,” Giulia chirped as she jumped off the edge to the ground below. Ryne watched her slide down, as if she was snowboarding down a rocky path. Rolling his eyes at the sight, Ryne followed suit, as he slid down the slope to the valley.
***
With gray clouds merging for the coming rain, a Grunt, operating the plasma turret on the floating platform of its purple watchtower, felt its eyes droop, trying to fight off sleep. A firm smack on the back of his head woke it up, as a blue-armored Elite warrior growled at the tired Grunt. As the small alien refocused its vision, it noticed something odd.
A glint, hidden within the trees and shrubberies overlooking the valley, not far off from the tower. 
The Grunt was not sure what it was looking at, as the glint flashed in and out of its view. It was trying to squint and lean in for a better look.
Suddenly, a bullet zipped through his head, right between the eyes.
Seconds later, the Elite turned to see the Grunt slumped over the turret. Thinking it fell asleep, the Elite kicked the Grunt with its hoof, only to find said Grunt fallen over and dead. Before it could react, the Elite heard the whooshing sound of its gravity well that led up to their platform. It looked up to see a green, bulky figure in the air, leaping towards it with a knife in hand.
The knife found its way through in the Elite’s throat, before being thrusted across its neck.
“Clear,” Ryne’s voice came over the COM softly, as Giulia stood up from her fresh kill. She leaped off the platform and crashed into the grass and mud below, landing next to two Jackal corpses, two bullet holes in their skulls.
Giulia, with her shotgun now drawn close to her, walked through the shrubs and trees as the rain began to fall, carefully scanning the area around her. Through his scope, Ryne watched Giulia advance into the Covenant site, laying on his belly, resting over a rocky edge that gave him a decent, elevated view of the area before him. 
A crouching Giulia walked across the grassy terrain, crawling under a fallen tree that covered a small ditch that gave her a good overlook of the excavation site. Giulia peered in, hidden by the tree bark, getting a better look at the stones, rock walls and totems, with odd and unfamiliar symbols carved in.
“Moving position”, Ryne chimed as he carefully stood up and walked along the edge of the rocky pass above. Giulia continued to observe the area, watching Sangheili and Grunts stroll around the ancient grounds. She waited for an opening to move in, readying her legs to jump out and sprint to the nearest cover.
As a roaming Sangheili turned its back and walked back to a gaggle of Grunts behind some stone rubble, Giulia lurched forward before the COM came back on. “Wait! Don’t move a muscle!” Ryne said, his voice trying to find the balance of a whisper and a shout. 
Giulia stopped in her tracks, and wondered what the holdup was. “Look at your twelve o’clock, near that tree”. Giulia did so, seeing a tree and some bushes, but nothing else. She was about to ask Ryne if he was messing with her, before she caught it.
Shimmers.
“Two Elites, Active Camo.”
Sinking back into the ditch, Giulia started to make out the shape of the two Sangheili commandos walking across her just a few feet away, their shimmer being more noticeable as raindrops pelted them and disappeared behind the trees as they walked around.
“Damn, I didn’t even see them”.
“There may be more. This changes things. We’re going to have to go loud”. Giulia had the same thought. Going in quiet was going to be tough with invisible Split-Jaws now roaming around the area. 
Might as well go loud.
 
“I’m in position, on your kill, Beta.” 
“Copy.” 
Giulia crawled out from under a fallen tree, slowly making her way to the two camo Elites, shotgun aimed at them. As she was right behind the unsuspecting Sangheili pair standing around, Giulia violently smacked one camouflaged alien in the back of her head, with the butt of her shotgun. Hearing his fellow warrior’s thud to the ground, the other invisible Elite turned to see with the barrel of the shotgun staring in its face. 
Through his scope, Ryne watched Giulia shred the Elite’s head with a booming shotgun blast, and followed with another blast to the back of the fallen Elite she stood over. Ryne whistled at the sight of the killings.
“Alright, she isn’t that hopeless, I’ll give her that.”
Alerted by the loud shotgun blasts nearby, Grunts and Jackals poured out of the stone ruins to the source of the noise, as Elites began to gather and bark commands. The Grunts and Jackals with their plasma shields watched a green-armored human emerge over a mound, about to fire their plasma pistols and Needlers. 
However, a flurry of bullets crashed into their skulls and chests before they could even squeeze their triggers, as Ryne fired off his DMR with precise and successive shots at the small Covenant foot soldiers below. 
Taking advantage of Ryne’s sniper fire, Giulia charged forward up the stone path and into ruins, ignoring the small alien pests and her shields eating incoming plasma bolts. Leaping past the stone structures, Giulia found herself in front of a Sangheili, wielding dual plasma rifles and firing at her. Brushing off the bolts hitting her shields, Giulia let off another shotgun blast, sending the Elite’s body flying back. 
From behind her, a red-armored Elite wielding an energy sword emerged, about to swing its blade as Giulia turned to see the incoming Covenant warrior. Suddenly, bullets crashed into its armor, its shielding rippling and stunning the Elite as it tried to swing its blade. Seeing an opening, Giulia unleashed a back kick into the Elite’s chest, knocking it down to the ground and bringing down what was left of its shielding.
The Elite raised its head, as it tried to get up, only for a bullet to burrow in its temple.
Giulia looked behind her, spotting Ryne sliding down the rocky mud. The black-clad Spartan loaded a fresh magazine as he jogged towards Giulia, with the rain now starting to pour and the drops crashing into their MJOLNIR armor. 
“Getting lonely up there, huh?” Giulia asked as she loaded fresh shells into her M45. Ryne looked at her, scoffing at the remark. “We’re about to head into the main dig site and I don’t see a good overwatch spot to cover you. Besides, the Prophet is my kill.” Giulia just rolled her eyes, as she pumped the sliding grip of her shotgun with one hand.
“You're an asshole, you know that? Right?”
"Yeah, what's your point?"
***
Plasma bolts grazed and crashed into a stone totem, chipping it away piece by piece, as Ryne leaned on it, readying himself to return fire. A few feet away, Ryne could see Giulia taking cover by an overturned purple Covenant crate, firing her pistol sporadically to keep the Covenant forces back. 
On the other side of the site, the remaining Covenant fighters, led by the surviving Elites, unleashed heavy fire from the cover of their purple barricades, ancient ruins, and a purple, bulbous horse-shaped building. The structure came with a courtyard in the front with a gate in the center with low walls surrounding it like mandibles of an insect.
As Ryne prepared to return fire, he noticed a steel platform on an elevated mound nearby, overlooking the Covenant encampment and ruins. A pair of pink, sleek, bulbous ground vehicles sat parked, with plasma cannons mounted at their rears.
“Giulia! Ten o’clock! Specters!” yelled Ryne over the COM.
Giulia looked to see the unmanned Spectres on the platform, immediately realizing what Ryne’s idea was. “Cover me while I make a break for it!” said Giulia, as she slid the shotgun on her back, preparing to make a run for the platform. Ryne emerged from the stone totem, taking plasma bolts to his shields as he fired his DMR at the entrenched Covenant warriors.
Giulia leaped over the stone barrier, as she ran to the platform with Covenant forces distracted by Ryne. She clambered over the front of the Covenant vehicle, reaching the turret at the rear. Now in control of the turret, she turned the cannon one hundred and eighty degrees towards the Covenant forces, facing them at a slightly elevated position.
The alien warriors looked to see that the Spartan was about to use their own weapon against them, but the realization came too late.
A mixture of Plasma bolts and bullets tore through the Covenant warriors for the next several minutes, with Grunts and Jackals easily killed by the barrage as they tried to flee, while the remaining Elites were eventually overwhelmed as the firepower and precise shots ripped into their bodies. The firefight ended within minutes, as the last remaining Elite fell back after bullets ripped into its chest and gasped its last breaths.
Ryne emerged from behind the tall stone totem, and Giulia leaped off the Spectre, regrouping in front of the Covenant building near the dig site. They looked around the ancient excavation site, seeing alien bodies strewn around the primordial site with the rain cleansing the purple and blue blood off the stone paths and walls.
“Looks like the area is secured” remarked the black-armored Spartan, as he began to check his chest pouches for an equipment and ammo check. Giulia scanned the purple, Covenant structure, seeing the bulbous shape and the posts sticking out like a sore thumb. “Looks like it,” responded Giulia, as she turned to face Ryne.
“So, tell me, wasn’t my plan great? Better than waiting god knows how long for that stringy alien freak to pop out again, huh?” Giulia said, a confident smile cracking across her face under her helmet, crossing her arms waiting for the Spartan to admit she was right. 
“Your plan only worked, because I was covering you while you had your dumb fun with the hinge heads. Do you think your stupid plan would work without me, sniping the Jackals and Grunts that would’ve fried you with plasma while you played with the alligators?” Ryne responded, as he began to check his rifle and the scope. Giulia’s smile faded, as she gritted her teeth to fight the urge of socking Ryne in the back of his head.
“Besides, the job’s not done.” Ryne stated as he motioned to the open entrance leading into an underground pathway. “We need to get inside the tunnel and kill that Prophet, and then you can start patting yourself on the back.” 
With their weapons at the ready, Ryne and Giulia entered through the open, underground stairway, climbing down the stone steps as the darkness slowly consumed their vision. The lights on their helmets turned on, as it illuminated the pathway, as it cut through the pitch black. Giulia looked around the tunnel, seeing strange markings and symbols etched into the stones around her. “This doesn’t look like Covenant, maybe another alien species? Maybe their ancestors or something, maybe another species that died out a long time ago. What do you think the Covies are hunting for here?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Just focus on what’s in front and behind us” responded Ryne, which drew a frown from Giulia behind her visor. Giulia and Ryne made a turn to their right, following the stone path. Several minutes passed walking in darkness before they made another turn, making a new discovery as they fixed their eyes on what was over the bend.
Surrounded by Covenant supply cases and a communication hub, a large, smooth, steel door stood in front of the Spartans, thin blue lines strewn across the silver, metallic surface. An unfamiliar symbol, with circles and triangles overlapping each other, was at the center of this door.
“Holy shit.” Giulia blurted out on instinct, slowly approaching the door. Ryne followed her closely, also just as shocked by the sight. The two Spartans looked around the door, failing to find a device or panel to open it.
“Do you think that our target is inside that thing?” asked Giulia, staring at the giant alien door in awe.
“Did you see a Prophet on our way down here?” 
“...No?”
“Then, I guess that our target is inside, huh?” said Ryne, venomous mockery dripping in his voice. 
“Thanks, how about you say that again without the sarcasm?” Giulia responded angrily. Ryne could tell from the tone that he was getting on her nerves, so he kept quiet and focused on the door.
Although, he did get a small kick out of it.
As they got closer, the door began to shift and move, forcing the Spartans to ready their weapons in response. The door vanished as its steel plates slid back, revealing a sleek, silver, cylindrical hallway that led downwards. Without trying to enter, Ryne and Giulia peeked over to see how far down it went, before moving back. 
“We’re going to have to go deeper underground. Going to update control, let ‘em know we are going in' ', said Ryne as he backed away to get the best signal from his COM device. Giulia remained where she was, still gazing at the symbols and patterns inside the hall. “Control, this is Sierra. Confirming the excavation site is secure and the presence of a hi-tech alien facility underground. We are going in pursuit of the target. Be advised, we will likely lose comms as soon as we make our entry.”
Liberatore’s authoritative voice chimed over the COM.
“Control confirms. An extraction team will be moving in for immediate insertion to secure the site and extract you once the mission is done.”
Done with the communique, Ryne walked towards Giulia, who was still in awe of the advanced alien architecture before her. Ryne gently brushed past her, shaking her out of her trance and she followed him into the steel hall. The door shifted and the plates moved back behind them, closing the entrance behind the Spartans.
===Chapter 12===
A blue-armored Sangheili warrior fell back, its blood streaming out of a hole in from its headwear on its forehead. Black, armored legs stepped over the fresh alien corpse, as an empty magazine fell near the dead alien's head. 
After reloading the rifle, Ryne readied himself and began to walk down the steel, cylindrical hall again, as Giulia followed closely behind him, flicking the blue blood off her combat knife as she walked past a pair of dead Grunts. The two Spartans walked down the narrow, steel corridor, where another metallic door slid open, revealing a silver, circular room shaped in a dome, surrounded by steel totems, with the floor and walls lined with alien patterns and symbols. A bright light from the ceiling above illuminated the room.
In the back of the arena, an elevated platform, the Spartans could make out a gangly, serpentine figure, sitting on its purple throne, staring at a small, metallic object, a cylindrical crystal, floating inside a glass tube. Two Sangheili warriors, adorned in their bright red and orange armor, wearing their ceremonial headwear, flanked the Prophet and observed the strange alien crystal encased alongside it. Hearing the doors into the arena behind them slide back in, the Prophet and Elites turned around to see two Spartans, staring back at them with their weapons at the ready. The Sangheili guards growled, as they drew their Energy Swords and stepped in front of their Prophet. 
The Prophet quickly raised its hand, and used its thin, long fingers to point towards the two demons looking up at their target.
“Just those two Elites? Where are the Br—.“ Ryne’s train of thought was immediately cut off by red plasma bolts flying towards him and Giulia coming from both flanks.
On the left, emerging from the shadows of a set of tall metallic cylinders, two Brutes, armored, hulking Gorilla-like aliens, emerged and fired their red plasma rifle, while five Brutes ran out from behind the purple Covenant cases on the right, firing their Spikes from Spiker rifles as they charged the Spartans.
“Ambush! Should’ve figured.” Ryne thought, angry that he did not think of that risk quicker. 
Ryne focused on the plasma rifle-wielding Brutes on his left, firing his rifle at the exposed parts not protected by their armor. Giulia, with her shotgun pumped, fired at the incoming Brutes from the right flank. 
Ryne focused his fire on the chest of the Brutes, as their blue armored-plating only covered their ape head and broad shoulders. However, even as the bullets from his rifle crashed into their flesh, the Brutes absorbed them and fired back. 
“Damn apes.” muttered Ryne, as his shields ate the plasma bolts and a loud beeping in his helmet went off, indicating low shields. The two Brutes rushed Ryne, looking to finish off their kill. One Brute leaped, with Ryne avoiding a stomp by rolling away. The other Brute then swung a punch at the vulnerable Ryne, knocking him back as his shields were now depleted.
Shaken by the blow and on one knee, Ryne looked up to see his two attackers, the gorilla-like beasts snarling and laughing at him. Ryne gritted his teeth in rage.
“Bastards, gotta finish them off quick and help the brat with the rest of the Br—“. Ryne’s eyes widened in shock as he looked past the two Brutes, seeing the surprising results of Giulia’s skirmish with the other alien apes.
Ryne could see one Brute on his knees, clutching his neck as a combat knife was firmly lodged in the left side of his neck. Nearby, the body of Brute laid face up, a pool of purple blood circling around the corpse. Beyond, the two brutes could see Giulia’s back turned to him, as she faced down a trio Brutes who were cautiously stepping back from the green-armored demon, as they aimed their spike rifles at her.
Ducking the incoming spikes flying to her, Giulia charged the Brute in the middle, shoving the barrel of the shotgun into its chest before she pulled the trigger. The violent blast sent the Brute’s body flying back, as the two other Brutes backed up as they frantically tried to reload their empty Spike rifles.
Giulia turned to see Ryne, on one knee, trying to get up with two Brutes looming over him.
“Hold on, I’m on my way.” The Spartan refocused on her next target on her left, aiming her shotgun at a panicked Brute that was finishing his reload. She pumped her weapon to ready her next shell, determined to finish off these Brutes quickly.
“I’m not gonna let anyone die under my watch.”
As he watched Giulia blast a Brute away, Ryne could feel his rage boil over, watching Giulia easily dispatching these apes while he struggled to deal with a couple on his own. Dropping his rifle, Ryne unsheathed his combat knife as one Brute raised his foot to stomp on his body.
“No, I’m not that weak boy, not anymore. I won’t be like him again!”
Ryne leaned back, narrowly missing Brute's large, hairy foot. He then shoved the knife into said foot, where the Brute screamed in pain. Seeing an opening, Ryne jumped up to the Brutes head, shoving his pistol under its jaw. Ryne squeezed the trigger several times, the bullets zipping out from the top of the ape’s head, until Brute's red eyes went dead and fell over.
Standing over the corpse of his kill, Ryne turned his focus to the other Brute, now enraged at his pack brother’s demise. Dropping his red plasma rifle and charging at the Spartan, the Brute went berserk and went for a tackle, driven by his desire to crush the black-armored demon’s skull.
Ryne moved back, firing his pistol into the enraged beast’s chest as it dove for him. Ryne rolled under the frenzied charge, as he threw a blue, plasma grenade he picked off the dead Brute’s corpse. The Brute turned to see a blue, fizzling light fly into its chest; it looked up at the Spartan, seeing the yellow visor stare at him in its final moments.
The Brute roared in defiance.
BOOM.
The bright, blue explosion hurled its body to the interior walls of the room. Ryne gazed upon the gaping hole inside the ape’s purple-blooded chest, smirking at the sight. Ryne turned around to see how Giulia was faring. However, as he turned his head, the Spartan could hear the familiar growl of an Elite on his blind side.
Ryne turned to see that one of the Prophet’s guards had snuck up on him, towering over him as he held his energy over its head, about to swing it down on the demon before it. Ryne raised his pistol to fire, but he knew that in that moment the slash was going to reach him before he could get his shots off. 
“Dammit. Not like this.”
Time moved slowly for Ryne, as he could see the glowing plasma of the blade draw closer to his visor. Ryne could not help but feel upset that this was how it was going to end, but also some relief that it was at least all over now.
Suddenly, the familiar figure of a green-armored Spartan flew over his head, and Ryne watched in surprise as Giulia struck the Elite with a flying kick to its face. The Elite flew back, as Giulia landed in front of him with her back to a dumbfounded Ryne.
“You good?” asked Giulia in a earnest, warm tone, still focused on the Elite in front of her, watching the bright-armored alien guard slowly get up, shaking the daze off caused by the stiff blow to its head. Ryne looked back to see that the two remaining Brutes were now dealt with, seeing their now lifeless bodies lying motionless amongst their dead brethren, purplish pools of blood slowly forming around the corpses. Ryne turned back to see Giulia calmly approach the Elite, her fists at the ready with the clear intention of taking the Elite head-on.
“How did she—“ Ryne suddenly remembered there was another Elite with the Prophet, and scanned around the arena for it. Like before, the Elite tried to sneak up on him, as it leaped off a tall, steel cylinder towards the Spartan. Looking up, Ryne raised his pistol, diving back to avoid the incoming slash.
Ryne squeezed the trigger, only to hear a click from his pistol. Hearing the click as well, the Elite marched towards Ryne, its energy sword at the ready. Ryne looked to his left, seeing his DMR, lying near one of the Brute corpses. Sprinting to his rifle, Ryne was given chase by the Elite, as the alien warrior attempted to intercept him. Ryne dove for his rifle, rolling into a firing position at the incoming Elite warrior also leaping towards him. Ryne was able to get off a few shots, the bullets creating ripples on its shields.
It was not enough. 
The Elite closed the gap between it and the Spartan, and was about to deal an overhead slash on the Spartan before its shields would go down.
Ryne used his rifle in an attempt to block the slash, only for the energy sword to cut through the DMR like a knife through butter. The edge of the blade cutting into his chest armor, ripping up one of his pouches as it slid down. Ryne fell back, finding himself vulnerable again as the Elite began to trudge towards him with his energy sword at its side.
“If I’m going out...”
Ryne grabbed his frag grenade hanging off his waist, ready to trigger the digital timer fuse. The Elite approached and stood over the demon, about to thrust his blade into his quarry, as Ryne readied himself to trigger the grenade.
Suddenly, the dual tips of the energy sword appeared through the Elite’s chest. The stunned Sangheili looked at the blade sticking out of him, making eye contact with black armored demon before him.
Ryne sat there, just as shocked as the hinge head, and watched the alien fall face first, revealing Giulia standing right behind it. She walked over the Elite’s body, the rest of the blade sticking out from its back, and approached Ryne, standing over her fellow Spartan. Ryne looked behind Giulia, seeing the other fallen Elite, noticing that it was slumped over with its neck and head contorted, likely a neck snap of some kind. Ryne looked back up, seeing Giulia stick her hand up to help him. “I’ve got you, Spartan,” Giulia’s confidence coming through her warm voice. Ryne glanced at the hand, before looking back up at Giulia. 
As he began to reach out, Ryne noticed something green and glowing approaching behind an unsuspecting Giulia.
“Move!”
Ryne quickly stood up, and shoved Giulia away as a large, green plasma bolt flew between them. Both Spartans turned to see the Prophet, sitting on his anti-gravity throne, armed with a plasma pistol. Ryne approached the fearful, gangly alien, reloading a magazine into his pistol as plasma bolts crashing his armor, which had it's shields fully-charged again by now.
Walking up to the alien, Ryne fired off a round, hitting the Prophet’s shooting hand that knocked the pistol out of his control and ripped one of its fingers clean off. The Prophet yelped in pain, clutching its bloodied hand. Ryne, now up close, grabbed the Prophet’s stringy neck, and yanked him off his throne. The Spartan proceeded to put his knee on its neck, and pistol now pressed on its bulbous head. 
“You filth!” screamed the Prophet. “You dare lay hands on me?! Your kind will be wiped from the stars!” Ryne and Giulia looked at each other, surprised by the alien’s words. “You can speak our language?” asked Ryne. The Prophet smirked, as he weakly tried shoving Ryne’s knee off his neck.
“I’ve had Unggoy transcribe your disgusting language for me, so yes, I can speak your vile tongue!” 
“Good.” responded Ryne. “I’ve got a few questions then. For starters, what is that crystal that is floating inside that glass tube? What do you want from it? What is this place? How do we get it open?”
The Prophet only laughed. “So many questions, yet you will get nothing from me.”
“You don’t seem to understand," Ryne coldly whispered. "I can make your death as painless or painful as I want it to be. So, tell me, or I'll start shooting your fingers off.”
Ryne moved the pistol to the alien’s bloodied hand, pressing it on the wound, as it began to screech in pain.
Observing from a few feet back, picking up her shotgun that she had to drop during her skirmish with the Brutes, Giulia watched Ryne’s “questioning”. She was uneasy by this Spartan’s vicious methods. She understood the utter, intense hatred that most people harbored for the Covenant, especially from her Beta Company brothers and sisters. Giulia had no hesitation in killing these aliens without a second thought, and felt no remorse in killing them. She was willing to stack as many Covie corpses as she could to protect her brothers and sisters, her family on Earth.
This was different though.
For several minutes, Giulia watched Ryne pummel the alien with pistol whips, shooting off another finger from its gangly hand, and even taunt it and mock the Prophet, trying to break him and get the alien to spill everything. She did not need to see behind the helmet’s yellow visor to know that Ryne was enjoying this. Ryne pressed the pistol on the Prophet’s head, now bleeding from the mouth and covered in bruises and cuts from blows. It coughed some blood, trying to speak again. 
“Even If I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you how to open the casing for the sacred crystal. We have been trying to open it for some time, and nothing has worked this far. So, do your worst, human. The crystal is safe from your wretched hands!”
“Really? In that case, I guess we’ll find out what else you’re hiding.”
Ryne resumed his beating, fists hammering down on the alien as it yelped like a wounded animal in pain. Giulia winced and turned away, trying to avoid the sight.
“...Ah man, I think he’s got issues. Lots of issues.”
Trying to distract herself from the grizzly scene, Giulia walked up the steel steps towards the elevated platform, sliding her shotgun on to her back as she walked away. Reaching the silver, steel platform, Giulia found herself in front of the crystal, stuck in a glass tube and suspended in the air. 
As she approached to get a closer look, a greenish, holographic panel lit up over a pedestal in front of Giulia, startling the Spartan. Giulia studied the brightly lit holo-panel, trying to figure out what to do next. Upon closer inspection, Giulia noticed a large, blue-green circle symbol at the center of the panel, sticking out as if it wanted to be pressed.
“Well, might be a bad idea, but what the hell. Better than watching grumpy back there have his fun.”
Giulia moved her hand towards the panel, hovering over the large circle in the middle of the panel. She was having second thoughts, as her hand remained over the panel. Giulia looked up the crystal, seeing a teal colored rock floating in the tube, staring back at her.
“Eh, screw it,” Giulia murmured.
Giulia pressed her green glove on panel, tapping the circle. The circle slowly slid down, and the holo panel faded from the pedestal. The glass tube began to slide down, leaving the crystal where it was, floating in plain view of the Spartan.
Hearing the shifting and sliding of metal and glass from the platform above, Ryne turned to see Giulia approaching the crystal, no longer encased by the glass. Giulia carefully grabbed it and began to inspect it herself.
“I’ve got it!” Giulia yelled, as she ran down the steps from the platform, gleefully holding the crystalline object close to her.
“Impossible!” garbled the bruised and bloodied Prophet, now freed from the grip of Ryne’s knee.
Ryne stood up, as he walked towards Giulia. Giulia presented the crystal to Ryne, who looked at a small crystal rock before him.
“Can I?” asked Ryne, with a hint of respect in his tone. Giulia grinned, realizing that Ryne was actually being nice to her for once. She handed the teal rock over, and Ryne examined it closely, lifting it up towards the light above for a better look. He could make out small, imprinted circles and lines connecting to each other on, and other symbols and shapes. 
“Filthy mongrels! You are not worthy to be in possession of such a gift from the Gods! You only desecrate it as you to—“
“BANG.”
Without taking his eyes off the crystal, Ryne pulled out his sidearm and fired off a shot, and the Prophet fell silent. 
For good. 
Ryne brought the rock down to eye level, still gazing on it intently. "Why do you think the Covies wanted this so bad?” asked Giulia, as she peered over Ryne's right shoulder to look at the crystal again. 
“Let me consult my manual of weird alien shit, maybe it’ll have an answer.” Giulia glared back at Ryne, an annoyed expression hidden behind that visor.
“Can you not be a prick for more than five minutes, and just give me a straight answer? I have half-a-mind to knock you back on your ass after saving it. Twice!”
“I'm sorry, who shoved you out the way of a plasma bolt that would've fried you while you were gloating like an idiot?" Ryne asked sarcastically. "Oh that's right, that was me! I guess we're even. So, be quiet while the grown-up here does his job.”
Giulia wound up her shoulder, her fist balled up and ready to crash into the back of Ryne's ZACHARIAS helmet.
“Why you little...”
All of a sudden, the silver, steel doors began to shift and move. Ryne pulled out his sidearm, as Giulia reached for her shotgun off her back. The door slid open, and six black-armored, human soldiers busted in, their Battle rifles and Assault rifles at the ready and scanning the alien arena around them.
Ryne and Giulia collectively sighed in relief, as the sight of ODSTs meant they were in the clear. Ryne slipped the Crystal in one of his empty pouches on his chest, gently placing it so as to not risk any kind of damage.
“Clear!”
“Room clear!” 
“What is this place, Sergeant?” an ODST chimed in a youthful voice filled with confusion and awe as he looked around the silver alien amphitheater, gazing upon the tall cylinders sticking out and the slick architecture. 
“Above my paygrade, kid. That’s what.” replied the Sergeant in a similarly-awestruck tone.
Ryne and Giulia approached the troopers, with the ODST Sergeant approaching them, his Battle Rifle lowered close to his chest. 
“Sergeant Contreras, you must be the two Spartans we are supposed to pick up before we leave this dirtball.”
“You’d be correct, Sergeant.” remarked Giulia. 
Ryne recognized that voice, and the name but he couldn’t place it at the moment. It bugged him because he knew it was going to bother him for a while if he didn’t figure it out. 
“Sergeant, have we met before? Done ops together?” asked Ryne to the ODST Sergeant. The Sergeant looked at the Spartan, his body language conveying confusion.
“No, I don’t think so, why do you ask, Spartan?”
Ryne shrugged, realizing he wasn't going to get a satisfying answer. “No reason, Sergeant.”
“Alright, manos y manas, let’s get the hell out of here." the ODST remarked. "Our Pelican pilot is probably getting restless as we speak. Lead the way, Spartans.”
Ryne and Giulia were the first to walk out of the arena, as the ODSTs followed their lead, The steel doors moved and slid shut behind, as the last ODST stepped out of the room. The trooper looked at the large silver door that sealed the area shut behind them.
“Freaky,” the shock trooper remarked, turning and running to catch up with the rest of the group.
***
A helmetless Sergeant Contreras, his scruffy hair and five o’ clock shadow visible to all, was leaning up against the metal wall inside the bay of a Point Blank-class ONI Prowler, which had escaped from the Covenant-occupied Carine System, just making its way into the UNSC-held space. The Sergeant was casually conversing with two of his subordinates in his stick, as all three were making guesses on a developing situation just a few feet ahead of them.
“Man, those two have been staring at each other for, like, forever.” one Trooper remarked, as the blonde-haired soldier leaned on the wall with her shoulder, next to her Sergeant. Contreras could tell those two were not exactly “buddy-buddy”, ever since they walked out of that underground alien room at that dig site, and boarded the Pelican dropship out of that god-forsaken jungle.
“Yeah, maybe one is just a sodding asshole, like you Petrova”, remarked a clean-shaven trooper with a mohawk standing in front of the two ODSTs leaning on the wall. Contreras could not suppress his chuckle at the dig by the Scot. “Piss off, Steele” snapped Petrova, who also tried to hide her smirk from the playful.
“Might they be havin’ a rammy. Those two Spartys remind me of me cousins, who threatened to pagger each other every weekend on th’ pitch when I was kid, Sergeant.” Contreras didn’t get the same vibe; he knew they didn’t like each other, but there was also respect between them. In fact, Contreras was more concerned on why the Spartan thought he knew him. The Sergeant has fought and worked alongside many Spartans, but never encountered the black-armored one in his life.
“Maybe he wore a different armor suit when we met? I don’t recognize his voice though, but they all kinda sound the same.”
“Sarge?” Steele prodded, looking for an answer from the Sergeant that was lost in thought,
“Relax, Corporal. It won’t come to that”, responded Contreras, as he pushed himself off the wall, about to head to the conference room, where he was supposed to show Lieutenant Commander Liberatore, an old friend from Project ORION, the crystal rock that the Spartans found at the Covie excavation site. 
“At least, I hope it doesn’t.”
***
Two Spartans sat across, helmetless, staring at each other from their seats inside the hanger bay of the Prowler. ODSTs and ship personnel casually walked between, ignoring the tension that anyone could feel in the bay with the two Spartans. They sat in silence for several minutes, just staring at each other. Ryne could see a shit-eating grin breaking across Giulia’s face, and he knew why. Giulia had saved his ass, not once, but twice back at the underground alien site, and she knew it.
Ryne gnashed his teeth, realizing that they were now more than even. 
“Well, do you have something to get off your chest?” Giulia asked in a sardonic tone that she clearly learned from Ryne. 
Ryne sighted, realizing that he was not going to win this. 
“Fine. Thanks for saving my ass. You happy now?!”
“Keep going.”
Ryne shook his head, knowing Giulia was not going to let up. The disrespect he showed and the insulting comments he made towards her were coming back to bite him in the ass. 
“You are also not the useless Spartan that I made you out to be, and you’re a helluva fighter and...can probably...maybe...stand toe-to-toe with me.”
“Ahh, see? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? You can be nice!”
“Oh, bite me”. 
The speakers of the Prowler boomed out, as the ship’s female AI voice came over to relay an update.
“ETA ten minutes until rendezvous with the Gorgon.”
Giulia’s smile switched from glib to sincere, as she looked at a half-embarrassed Ryne trying to look away from her. She could not pick it out, but she found him to be amusing to be around for some reason. 
An asshole? Sure. Enjoys killing and torturing aliens a little too much? Maybe. 
 
Still, this jerk still saved her life back at the city, and covered her at the Covenant dig site. He even shoved her out of the way of an overcharged plasma bolt. She could not ignore all that. 
“Maybe he’s just prickly? Maybe, he is just fuzzy underneath all that stone.”
Giulia leaned back, still focused on the blonde-haired Spartan before her. She chuckled under her breath, seeing him trying to pay her no mind.
“Hey, uh, listen.”
Ryne's eyes shifted towards her, now seeing her expression shift into a more subdued mood. 
“Thanks. Seriously. You saved my life back there, at the Covenant camp. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
Ryne was puzzled by the gratitude.
“Did a Brute give you a concussion? I told you that I only saved you because you were going to blow us all to hell back at the camp.”
“If that’s the case, then why not just shoot me and move on? Would’ve been more expedient for you.”
Ryne was caught off-guard by the answer, tilting back with a surprised twitch.
“Your mission was just to kill that Prophet, isn’t that what you said? You could have just domed the Prophet and me when you had the chance. No one would ever really know, and you probably have ONI brass cover for you from any kind punishment if the truth came out. Just from the brief moments sticking with you, I know those thoughts crossed your mind.”
Ryne could not believe what he was hearing.
“So, why save me?”
Ryne bit his lip, unsure how to respond. He relaxed his shoulders, and looked back at Giulia’s attentive glare, as she lurched over, waiting to hear his next words.
“You’re reading too much into it. I, uh, just did not think of it all. If I did, I, um, would have done as you suggested.”
Giulia noticed how uncomfortable the blonde-haired Spartan now was, trying to avoid eye contact with her after being asked such a question. He did not like being thanked it seemed. Even going as far as to paint himself as a cold-hearted bastard to not be given gratitude. She did not buy his answer.
Not for a second.
She sighed, shrugged her shoulders, and leaned back into her leather seat. “Even so, thanks anyway.” Giulia said in resignation, knowing she wasn't going to get an answer.
“I have a proposal for you actually. As you know, I can outmuscle and kill Covies with my bare hands,” remarked Giulia as she smashed a fist into her hand. “You are a crack shot that can kill Covies without them ever knowing what hit them.” Giulia then made a playful, dual finger gun gesture, playfully aiming both finger guns at Ryne's eyes.
“Bang,” whispered a smiling Giulia as she exaggeratedly pulled her hands back like it had recoiled. 
“How about I teach you how not to get your ass handed to you, while you show me how you make your rifle sing for ya, huh?”
Giulia watched Ryne ponder the question in her seat, seeing him fighting himself and trying to talk himself out of something under his breath. Before he answered, the Prowler’s PA came back on.
“Five minutes to rendezvous with the UNSC Gorgon.”
Realizing that his ride was nearby, Ryne stood up, collecting his helmet, as he looked at Giulia.
“Maybe another time.” Ryne began to walk away, holding his helmet by his side, as he made his way out of the Prowler’s bay, heading to the shuttle that would take him to the Prowler that was supposed to pick him up.
“Hey, I never did catch your name, Spartan?” Giulia yelled as he walked away. Ryne turned back with a sarcastically perplexed look on his face.
“Really? Huh, that’s a shame.”
Giulia watched Ryne turn his back and walk out of the bay, the steel door sliding down as he vanished from her view. Giulia could only smirk. 
“Such an asshole.”
Looking out into the void of space, Ryne observed UNSC spacecraft and orbital platforms float about in the stars. Wearing military cargo pants paired with a gray sweater, Ryne was laid back on a bench, inside an observation deck within an orbital station looming over the planet of Reach below. He had his in his sweater pockets, watching the ships outside jump in and jump out of the system. Ryne yawned, having just woken up an hour ago. 
“God, that shot of espresso didn’t do shit for me. Probably going to hit some push-ups to wake me up.”
It had been about a week or so since the wet work job on Angitia, and Ryne was now itching to get back in his armor and back into the war. He had been taken back to Reach, for his debrief by his former handler, Pietro. He could picture his veins popping out of his head again, as he gave him the kind of ass-chewing that gave him flashbacks to boot camp.
Ryne recalled biting his tongue, as he was yelled at for “fooling around” and ridiculed for his “recklessness” at the dig site. 
“It wasn’t my idea to begin with; asshole was losing his mind at the wrong person.” Ryne recalled one question that Pietro asked him in that debrief, the same one that Giulia asked him back at the Prowler a couple weeks ago.
“Why didn’t you neutralize the Spartan if she was a hazard, why take the risk of saving her and compromising the mission?”
Those words echoed in Ryne’s thoughts, before Giulia’s words rang out.
“Why save me?”
Ryne bit his lip in frustration; he was not sure why those questions bothered him. He’s killed humans before. Why did he not just leave her? He never cared for the Spartans and troopers he worked alongside beforehand. They were just tools and pawns in the grand scheme of things. What was one more death to him? Quite simply Ryne was trying to answer one question in his head.
“What changed?”
Hearing the room’s metal door slide open, Ryne turned to see a red-haired woman in a thin, silk navy blue coat, donning a cap where her long ponytail poked through the cap’s small hole. She had her head down, looking at a data pad in her hands. 
Ryne was surprised, expecting Pietro, but got this woman instead. The woman raised her head out of the data pad, and Ryne immediately recognized the woman, as their eyes met each other. The Spartan nearly fell over trying to stand up at attention.
“At ease, Spartan.” Lieutenant Liberatore stated as she motioned for the Spartan to sit back down, to which Ryne complied as slinked down into the metal bench. “I know you were expecting Pietro, but I’ve got news, I’m your new handler for your upcoming missions. I’ll now be overseeing the team, and provide you two with the support available at the time.”
“Thank you, Lieu- Wait, hold on, team?”
Karina let out a slight exhale, dreading breaking the news to Ryne, considering what she read on his psych profile. 
“Ryne, the brass want to pair you up with another Headhunter, feeling that you and your new partner will be more effective, especially considering what you two accomplished on your last mission.” 
Spacing out after hearing "new partner", Ryne was trying to process what the Lieutenant was saying, but also trying to keep his temper under control at the same time, as he was not happy that he was being saddled with someone else for these missions.
“Wait, hold on, first of all, you don't mean-“
The room’s metal doors rose up again, and Ryne turned his gaze towards the open doorway to see who was walking in. A short-haired woman with familiar green eyes walked through the doorway, wearing the same military cargo pants and a light-green t-shirt, crossing her muscled arms as she stood next to the Lieutenant. Ryne’s eyes widened, as he immediately recognized the familiar cheeky smile and black hair that he knew all too well a few weeks back. 
“Hey, Ryne!” Giulia said eagerly, flashing a hand wave to the befuddled Ryne.
Ryne looked back at the Lieutenant, both sharing the same strained and annoyed look towards each other.
“No.” Ryne snapped huffily, standing up as he moved towards his new handler.
“Ryne...” Karina calmly called to the Spartan, trying to get him calm,
“Absolutely not.”
“Ryne...”
“No. No way.”
“Ryne, be professional.”
“Why the hell would you put me with a partner, and with her of all people?!” yelled Ryne, now slightly towering over Karina.
“I’m right here, you know” Giulia chimed in, meekly looking on the stare down occurring between Ryne and Karina.
“This is bullshit, Lieutenant, and you know it. I can handle myself just fine.”
Ryne was trying to fight the urge to shout and tell the Lieutenant off, but the impulse to raise his voice was palpable. The Spartan buried his head in his hands, as he paced the room. Lieutenant Liberatore just stared unamused at Ryne, simply letting him get his tantrum out of the way. She was well aware the Spartan was difficult to work with, but this was an experienced Spartan, she still expected more. Ryne was a far cry from the other Spartans she worked with, but he was also one of the more promising. 
An excellent sharpshooter, expert infiltrator and tracker, and driven and focused on the mission. She needed to harness those talents, manage his god-awful social skills, and bring out the best in him.
“Tall. fucking. task,” were the three words that flew through Karina’s thoughts as she read the Spartan’s file during the trip to the ONI orbital station.
As Ryne was about to storm out of the conference room in a huff, Giulia stepped in front of Ryne, stopping him in his tracks. A stoic Giulia stared up at the pissed Spartan, looking right into his eyes, making Ryne uneasy. Giulia leaned in to stare Ryne down, the angry Spartan leaning back a bit to get some space between them.
Giulia suddenly flashed a smile, amused by Ryne’s uneasiness. “Relax, Ryno. This will be fun. We make a great team, and you know it. Besides, who else is gonna save your ass again when you need it?” said Giulia, placing her hand on Ryne's shoulder, as she shot him a wide smile, Ryne grumbled and gritted his teeth in annoyance, that damn smile in front of him reminded him what he was going to be seeing for the foreseeable future. 
“This is my hell,” muttered a defeated Ryne, wearing a frown as he retreated back into his seat in the conference room. Giulia took a seat next to him, while still wearing her goofy child-like smile, ignoring to her new partner's agitation. Karina pinched her eyes, as she tried to return her focus back on the briefing at hand.
“These fucking two…”
===Chapter 13===
Dirtied combat boots stomped on plants and grass, disturbing the stillness of a quiet night in the jungles of Curdan’s Keep. A tall, brown haired soldier, outfitted in camouflage fatigues and a green patrol cap, was vaulting over fallen tree trunks and jumping over small crevices, constantly scanning the jungle around him.
“Where is he?!” the soldier lamented, trying to avoid the armored soldier that took out his patrol. He was the last left, and he needed to make it back to base. Finding a boulder, the young trooper slid behind it for cover, trying to catch his breath. He peered over slightly, checking if his hunter was close behind.
All he could see were tall trees and plants shrouded in darkness. He moved back behind cover, and turned to see someone standing behind him.
A man, with pieces of armor covering his chest and arms, a pistol raised to his head.
The soldier instinctively went to rip out of his hand, only for the armored trooper to seize on the arm and proceeded to lie on the young soldier’s back, putting all his weight on him as he hooked and pulled back his arm into his body, painfully stretching his muscles
“Good try,” said Delsin, his SPI helmet covering the smirk on his face.
“Dammit! I give! I give!”
Delsin let go of the hold, grabbed the pistol he dropped onto the dirt, and quickly stood. The former Beta Company Spartan slid the pistol to his side, and reached his hand out to help his defeated foe up.
The frustrated soldier looked up, and grabbed his hand, being lifted off the ground by Delsin’s brute strength.
Suddenly, rays of light shone on them, as a transport Warthog drove up behind them. A woman, donning her combat vest and black fatigues, jumped out and sarcastically clapped.
“Well done, hijo. You lasted about fifteen minutes against Delsin this time, a new record!”
Sylvia Vargas, leader of the Militia on Curdan’s Keep and Delsin’s “warden”, approached the two young men, wearing a deceptive smirk. Another field exercise, and another win for the “bad guy”. Delsin was being used as a glorified training dummy to help in training Sylvia’s militia, which was nothing more than a band of kids and old folks, for combat scenarios.
Obviously, the exercise only showed they were a work in progress, as the Spartan made quick work with during training.
“Jonathan, how many times do I have to tell you to be aware of your surroundings? Huh?” scolded Sylvia, disappointed by her young soldier’s reckless approach during their weekly field training. “Delito here, practically walked up behind you and didn’t even notice.
“Sorry, Commander Vargas,” the soldier meekly replied, holding his hurt shoulder that Delsin was pulling the arm out of. “I’ll do better.” 
“Get in the back, we’ll drive back to camp to meet with the others, and put some ice on the shoulder.”
As the soldier walked to the rear of the hog, Sylvia approached Delsin, who removed his helmet, revealing his long, scruffy hair. The Spartan had a buzzcut when they found him floating on a Black Cat prowler some months back, and now, his hair is a bit longer, scrunched and scruffy.
“Commander Vargas, impressive, right? I used the hold you taught me, and–Hey! Ow! Stop! Ow!”
Vargas reached up, pinched, and pulled Delsin’s left ear, pulling him down to her level. “Del, how many times have I told you to restrain yourself? My kids are not hopped up on steroids like you are.”
“I’m not on steroids, Commander. There–Ow! Ow!”
Delsin was yelping in pain while Sylvia dragged him to the Warthog. As they reached the Warthog, Sylvia sharply pointed at Jonathan, who was massaging his shoulder in the passenger seat. “Look at him, pobrecito. He is going to have to take a week off and see Doctor Brigette. Don’t get me started on what you did to Pav and Nele last week!”
“Ma’am, stop! Ow! I’ll be more careful I promi–Argh!”
Letting go of the ear, Sylvia shoved Delsin in the back of the ‘Hog, and the Spartan began to massage his left ear as he tried to get comfortable for the long ride back to camp.
“Jesus, I didn’t mean to hurt him,” complained Delsin, pouting about Sylvia reprimanding him for about third time this month.
“That’s what you said last week in our last field exercise, asshole.” Jonathan responded, still wincing from his shoulder. Delsin frowned, clearly feeling bad that he hurt someone again during training. Sylvia looked back, clearly seeing Delsin was remorseful, and turned back with a deep sigh.
“What am I going to do with you?” Sylvia muttered, as she started the Warthog, driving her and her two soldiers through the dirt road surrounded by the dense, darkened jungle. After some awkward silence during the drive, Sylvia softly spoke up. "You applied the technique correctly, Del. Just, next time, don't wrench on it too much, tontito.
"Yes, ma'am." Delsin softly responded. Sylvia seeing the sour looks on her trainee and "prisoner", decided to change the mood. 
"Blake is whipping up waffles for breakfast back at camp."
"Sweet!" Loud cheers erupted in the back and passenger seat, Sylvia smirking as she heard them. 
"You two are too easily impressed."
A large, sleek, silver colony ship loomed over the darkened waters of a lagoon and a small, fishing village nearby, resting on the water. The village was busy with life, as villagers came out of their wooden and steel huts to begin their day. Some had already gotten the jump on their day, as a few locals were already on their cobbled-together wooden and metal boats, netting the sealife that resided in the lagoon. 
At a nearby hut, made of wood and metal sheets, Delsin, wearing a green, shabby sweater and a torn-up pair of black jeans, was placing metal boxes and canisters on a shelf inside some makeshift metal-plated pantry of some kind, while two small kids, a boy and a girl no more than 9, watching him place the the containers, as if he was under their supervision.
“Hurry up, Delsin, or I’m telling Misses Vargas!” teased the girl, messing with her ponytail. “Yeah!” the boy yelled, joining his friend in bullying Delsin, who could only chuckle as he grabbed another canister to shove at the top of the shelves. 
“Oh no!” Delsin said sarcastically. “Please, not Miss Vargas!”
A middle-aged, brown-haired woman, with freckles on the bridge of her nose and washing a tin cup with a cloth, appeared in the doorway, hearing all the commotion from the next room over. She could only smile, seeing her two kids torment her would be helper.
“Alright kids, go outside and play, let Delsin here finish up. He is very busy today!” the woman softly said, and her kids immediately followed her request, but not before sticking out their tongues at Delsin before leaping out of the hut. 
“I’m so sorry, they think you’re still a prisoner.” the woman said, as she went over to place the cup in her cupboard. “It’s fine, Miss Wharley, being bullied, even by those gremlins, builds character. At least, that’s what I tell myself.” Miss Wharley chuckled, and proceeded to help him in placing their food supply in their pantry. 
It had been a little more than two months since Delsin was released from his custody, and allowed to live among the locals. Before that, the Spartan could not eat, drink, shower, or even piss, without someone right neck to him. In that time, Delsin was confined in a dusty, old hut that was used for storing dead fish to eat later, and sleeping on a dirty, brown mattress that he strongly suspected wasn’t brown to begin with. 
Delsin recalled his interrogation, how he was asked about who he was, and how he ended up here. Delsin kept his mouth shut for days, still grieving and in shock over his dead comrades on Pegasi Delta, the ones that he left to die. Eventually, Delsin gave up and relented, realizing no one was coming to find him, as they likely thought him dead too.
Delsin told Commander Vargas and Zane, the “Governor” of Curdan’s Keep,, along with the pair of guards that watched over him, everything about who he was and what happened to end up on the planet. The Covenant, Jericho VII. Onyx. his augmentations, Pegasi Delta. 
Everything.
At first, no one believed his fantastical story. Sure, Del looked like a teenager, but there was no way he was a supersoldier, right? UNSC sending kidnapped orphans to their deaths, after making them undergo horrific training and science experiments to make them supersoldiers against an unstoppable alien empire? Utter nonsense everyone thought.
Everyone except Sylvia Vargas.
Sitting across the steel table from the Spartan, Sylvia questioned him, and paid attention to every word Delsin said, quietly sitting and listening. She never once called him out for lying or even tried to try her “enhanced interrogation” tactics. Delsin found her response odd, as if what he said didn’t really surprise her. Vargas was apparently a spec ops vet, according to the guards that gossiped around him during his imprisonment. Delsin figured she had seen some shit that made his story believable, or something like that.
Still, Delsin was their prisoner, and he was watched by the militia that took turns in guarding him. A lot of these soldiers were either young teens or older, weary men and women. No in between, really. He could’ve broken out, but then where next? Show up, get declared AWOL and thrown in another brig? That was assuming the Covenant hadn’t already crushed the UNSC at this point.
Delsin had no idea what was happening in the war, and it loomed over him like a dark cloud. The planet’s militia and their tiny flotilla decided to shore themselves up, once hearing Delsin vividly describe how the Covenant armada glassed entire worlds as they laid waste to the UNSC’s Navy and their ground forces on dozens upon dozens of worlds. 
Delsin recalled seeing a woman crying on a staircase, while being escorted from his hut to eat at their cafeteria. It was Miss Wharley, who learned about Jericho VII being glassed into nothing. It was apparently her home, where her family was. 
Delsin wished he could tell her that her family was fine, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t give her any hope, because it would make a liar out of him.
He was already a coward, no need to make things worse for yourself.
As he and Miss Wharley placed the last containers on the shelf, Delsin began to walk out, as he now needed to head to the colony ship, as Mr. Yankovich needed help with lifting some cargo off the ship.
“See you tomorrow, Miss Wharley.”
“Wait, Delsin!”
Wharley stopped Delsin in his tracks before he went out the doorway.
“Can you stay for dinner with us? Bill has fresh fish and some veggie medallions ready.”
“Damn, I do love Bill’s medallions.” Delsin closed his eyes, salivating at the thought of biting down on the chewy potato flavor of Bill’s medallions. However, he frowned when he realized he wasn’t going to be there, even if he wanted to.
“Can’t.” Delsin glumly responded. “Yankovich wants me to help offload some more cargo from the ship, then I’ve got to report back to Commander Vargas for something.”
“Ah well, another time then.”
Delsin waved bye, as he exited the doorway and out into the narrow alleys, walking into the wet market. Old folks and kids waved high, as their tall “prisoner” walked past them and also smiled back at them. Delsin peeked at the fish and meat on display, gathered by militiamen who went on hunts in the dense jungles.
Delsin, after months of good behavior, was now allowed to walk around the settlement without guard. During his imprisonment, the Spartan did as he was told, never talked back, never tried to escape, never got violent. Even when a few guards got rough with him, a punch here, a shove there, Delsin kept his calm. 
Eventually, Vargas realized that this “Spartan” wasn’t going to cause problems, and decided to put him to work. After weeks of unloading cargo off the colony ship, construction work on small huts, helping in repairing their old Warthogs, and even maintaining the outdated weapons in their armory under supervision by Vargas herself, Delsin came to slowly ingrain himself with the tight-knit community on Curdan’s Keep, their frosty attitudes thawed and transformed into warm hospitality. 
As Delsin walked around the wet market, he took a sudden sharp turn into a narrow alley surrounded by storage boxes, detouring from his route to the wooden docks that surrounded the colony ship. Delsin walked until he found himself in front of a workbench, hidden by a canopy within the market, seeing a brown-haired sixteen year-old, wearing goggles and an oversuited mechanic jumpsuit, was busy tinkering away at Delsin’s SPI helmet with his welding tools. Over his shoulder, Delsin noticed that his SPI chest piece was sitting on the bench, scratched up but now coated with new green paint.
“I tried buffing out the scratches, but those streaks and scarring aren’t going away, maybe the new green coating will help hide them.” remarked the brown-haired teen, his greasy face turning to face Delsin, lifting up his goggles to reveal his hazel eyes. “Well, the Commander always tells us scars make you look cool, maybe it will do the same for the armor,” Delsin replied jokingly. Wilky stared at him blankly, clearly unimpressed by the Spartan's attempt at comedy.
“Uh huh, anyways, me and Dad put it back together as best we could. We’ll have your wrist and leg pieces done in a few weeks.”
“Uh, Thanks, Wilky”, Delsin said, awkwardly patting his shoulder as he began to walk away, but not before he felt a tug on his sleeve, turning to see it was Wilky holding his sweater sleeve.
“The Governor and Commander are looking for you.” Wilky said. “It sounded urgent.” 
Delsin was puzzled, why would the Governor Zane want him for, that bald-headed douche hasn’t said so much as a word to him the last few weeks. What was the matter? Was he in trouble? Because the last time he spoke to the “Governor”, it was to get yelled out for exploring that old stone temple a few miles outside of the settlement, with some of the militia boys and girls a few weeks back without Vargas’s or his permission.
Delsin rolled his eyes, and nodded at Wilky, acknowledging his message. As he walked past several huts and houses cobbled by metal and wood, Delsin’s thoughts raced on what he could be in trouble for. 
“Gah, if it’s about the dip in the lagoon, how was I supposed to know that the crate Jonathan dropped were frag grenades? I would’ve handled it better had I known, and not killed a bunch of fish.”
Delsin soon found himself standing before an ugly large two-story home, mostly covered in generic metal, unlike every other house and hut in the settlement. God, it was such an eyesore. Sure, the village ain’t nothing much, but it looked better than a crappy villa, whose gunmetal walls were just hideous to look at.
Climbing up the small set of stairs to the front door, about the only wooden thing in this place, Delsin knocked a few times before blurting out “It’s Delsin, you wanted to see me?”
“C’mon in.” said Zane. Delsin slowly pushed the door, entering a living room surrounded by bookshelves filled to the brim. Zane’s voice blurted out again from his office, the door ajar. “Wait in the living room, we’ll be with you shortly Delsin.” 
Delsin saw a worn-down, leather couch, tinted in a hideous dark shade of brown that made the Spartan cringe every time he saw it when he visited. “God that color is hideous.” muttered Delsin, as he planted himself on the couch. Delsin began to look around living room, seeing books and holo-pictures of Zane in his early days, some of them showed him smiling and with hair.
Delsin shivered at the sight. “That is not the Governor, right? He actually looks happy, and he has hair!” Delsin noticed the photos showed him in some kind of gray uniform. Navy perhaps? All he knew was that Zane was the Captain of that colony ship when they touched down, and it made him head honcho of the settlement when things went to hell.
During his imprisonment, Zane and Vargas paid a visit for another round of questioning, and Delsin turned it around on them by asking what this planet was, who they were. From there, Zane regaled the tale of Curdan’s Keep, a new world that was set for colonization in 2526. Captain Keon Zane, and his colony ships with a small CMA naval escort, were the first to arrive, touching down and setting up shop as they awaited for the rest of their expedition to show up.
They never did.
At first, they thought that they were delayed by some incident, but, as months turned into years, it became apparent that they were abandoned for some reason. A distress beacon was sent out, but no one answered. Zane took matters in his own hands, and became “Governor” as he tried to lead around 30,000 colonists for about the next two decades. Delsin had to admit the old curmudgeon did a pretty good job. 
The colonists took up farming and fishing, constructed their own settlement, and formed their own government. Zane even set up a military and refueling complex, with help from the CMA escort ships that decided to stay and help the colony. Things could’ve gotten ugly, but Zane and Vargas apparently steered the ship and kept everything on track. Now, the settlement, called Zane’s Landing, was functional and thriving. At some point, the colonists and CMA personnel would break off from the UNSC and CAA, angered by the sudden abandonment and basically declaring their independence, even though no one really noticed.
“Zane’s Landing? He probably would’ve named the damn planet after himself if he could. Hell, he still might.”
Now, everything was clear, the war with the Covenant was the cause for Curdan’s Keep abandonment, and why the UNSC never came looking for them.
“Alright, come in, Delsin.”
Delsin stood up and walked into Zane’s office, where Zane, wearing glasses as he was looking at a datapad, sat behind his desk with his hand. Much to his surprise, Sylvia was there, sitting on his desk, as she shot him a warm smile. 
“Commander? I didn’t expect you here. What is this about? Is this about the-” asked Delsin.
“Relax, Del. You are not in trouble, it’s not about the grenades blowing up in the lagoon.”
“Wait, what happened with the grenades?” Zane sharply asked. Sylvia waved her hand off, trying to move off the subject. “I’ll tell you later.”
Delsin sighed in relief, but now was even more curious about why he was summoned.
Zane put down his data pad, took his glasses off, glaring at Delsin. “Delsin, you’ve been on your best behavior, since you’ve gotten here. You could’ve been a problem, but chose not to be. After being released from Vargas’s custody, you decided to be a productive member of our community and help Vargas with training her militia.”
Delsin felt odd hearing such praise from Zane, who barely gave him a passing glance ever since he got here. Zane took a deep breath and resumed his speech/“Vargas and I have been discussing something for a few weeks now. We have been repairing, refitting, and refueling the ship you arrived at for some time.’
“The Prowler?” Delsin asked.
“The very same. I’ve been going over the manifesto, as Vargas and her militia has been stocking it with supplies to get you to get to the Epsilon Eridani System, I’ve already punched in the coordinates to Reach for your slipspace jump, and the supplies are there to last you incase the four hours aren’t enough, but should be if my calculations are correct.”
It dawned on Delsin what was happening, like a brick smashing into his head.
“Wait, hold on, you’re letting me go? Why?”
Vargas and Zane looked at each other, and Sylvia approached the confused Spartan. “Delsin, there is no need for you to be here. There is a war going on, and it’s going to need people like you. All we’re doing here is keeping you here for no reason.”
Delsin frowned at the words "people like you”, as the somewhat dormant memories of what happened on Pegasi Delta. Looking down on the floor to avoid eye contact, Delsin closed his eyes as memories flashed in his head. He saw Eris’s dying eyes and her body stretched out on the red sands, hearing Red’s cries for help, and the battered corpses of his brothers and sisters, as he ran away from the battlefield.
“No, they don’t need people like me.”
Delsin looked up, seeing Vargas and Zane still fixed on him, hanging on his next words.
“Thanks, Governor, Commander. It's a nice gesture, but I'm not going anywhere.”
Vargas sighed, “Del, honey, please-” Delsin cut her off, “Commander, I’m where I need to be. You have no idea when the Covenant are going to show up, their capabilities and you need someone that has fought them to help you if that time comes. I’ve lost my family, and then I abandoned my new one. I’m not about to relieve both experiences again.
Vargas slightly frowned, but quickly transformed into a smirk as she turned to Zane, who had his arms crossed as he closely listened to the exchange. “Well, Zane, what do ya think? Is he part of our little family now?”
Zane sat there for a minute, looking into Delsin’s eyes, seeing a determined teenage face that looked ready to argue for the next hour if he needed to. Zane cracked a smile as stood up to walk to Delsin.
“Ma’am, I think the Governor has a twitch? He is doing something weird with his mouth,” said Delsin, seeing the notoriously stone-faced Governor smile, freaking him out a bit as he leaned back as the Governor came face to face.
“Well, then. Welcome to the family, Delsin.” said Zane, as he patted the newest member of his settlement on his shoulder. Delsin let out a half-smile.
“Now, what happened with the grenades again?”
The campfire was crackling, flames spitting out into the night. A trio of parked, green-coated M15 Razorbacks sat in a row, resting alongside a dirt road. About six people, donning military fatigues, sat around on the campfire joking and arguing, while a few other militiamen stood around shooting the shit and drowning in whiskey. A pair of small flood lights helped illuminate the areas the campfire flames couldn’t reach.
Several miles away, a large, stone temple was looming over them, like some bystander observing a party. Delsin, resting on a Razorback’s tire in his fatigues and sporting an undercut now, stared back at the quiet temple, with some earbuds in his ears and a small digital player in his right hand. The player was a “Christmas gift” from Katya, a newly-trained up, twenty-years old militia girl that was charged with handling the weapons at the armory at their outpost. 
Under Vargas’s orders, Delsin had taught her how to handle and clean weapons for the last weeks, and answered any questions she had while also helping her aim at the range back at the settlement. This music player was a gift from her, as a way to say thanks.
It had a weird mix of music, ranging from electronic beats, to jazzy piano, to violent guitar and drum thrashing, to groovy beats to bob his head to. Delsin never heard much music in his time in Beta, so it was nice to hear something new, rather than recalling the hushed lullabies and ukuleles his mother and uncle used to sing to him when he was a little boy. 
Suddenly, a pair of Militiamen stood before Delsin, and the former Spartan removed his earbuds, the sounds of melodic, bluesy guitar riffs could be heard bursting from the buds.“Sup, guys!” greeted Delsin, seeing a scruffy Jonathan and Katya standing over him. 
“Sylvia is calling us together for a toast.” remarked Katya. Jonathan reached out his hand, and helped Delsin up. “Well, let’s not keep la puta waiting.” Jonathan cringed when “puta” left Delsin’s mouth. “Do me a favor, don’t call her that in front of her.”
Delsin was confused. “What?” Isn’t it just Spanish for the boss? Raul said so.” 
“Raul says a lot of things, none of which you should trust,” Katya bluntly stated. As the trio walked over to the campfire, Katya tugged on Delsin’s jacket, trying to get his attention. “So, how do you like my gift?”
Delsin looked at the player and ear buds, seeing the worn, red player and white earbuds in his hands. “Well, it’s either assaulting my ears with loud guitars or screaming, or it makes me sad and lonely.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, the music selection is not my choice since it belonged to-”
“I love it, Katya.” Delsin cut her off before she could apologize, shooting a reassuring smile to the young armorer.
With everyone gathered around the campfire, Sylvia put herself at the center, near the fire for everyone to see. It was close enough that Delsin worried that a piece of her Jacket could catch fire. Sylvia had a silver cup in her hand, no doubt something from her “stash”.
“Ladies and germs, thank you for being here, as you know, it’s Christmas Eve! So, we had a little shin-dig before you all went off to your homes for your annual Christmas break! First off, I would like to thank Governor Zane for letting us continue our time-honored tradition of getting shit-faced the day before Christmas.”
Sylvia was clearly buzzed, and was probably going to slur her words by the end of the night, maybe even pass out before midnight. 
“Anywho, this occasion is special, because this the first Christmas for Delsin, at least his first Christmas with us!”
Delsin hadn’t celebrated a holiday since his childhood days on Jericho VII, as his life as a trainee and a Spartan in Beta Company had all but consumed whatever freedoms he had left. Now, he was a civilian, so to speak.
Sylvia raised her cup, nearly throwing out the tequila, and a few militiamen followed suit and raised their own tin cups brimming with whiskey and tequila. “A toast to our newest member of the family, and one of our newest squad leaders, Delsin!” Sylvia and the gang knocked back their cups, chugging the drink down their throats. “Now, who wants to chug another one for Delsin, since he is not of age.”
Laughter broke out, as hands were raised trying to volunteer for another shot. Delsin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the wisecrack. It was going to be torture for Delsin, as the guys and gals would never let him forget that their newest, and best soldier wasn’t even sixteen yet. 
It was weird for Delsin, being so young, yet he had more experience in the military than everyone put together, with a few exceptions of course, like Commander Vargas. Two days ago, Vargas decided to make Delsin a squad leader, and he would be forming his own squad to lead and train in the coming weeks.
“A leadership spot? Really? For a coward like me?” Delsin thought to himself, recalling his reaction to Sylvia's offer.
Delsin was going to reject it, happy to serve as a grunt like everyone else. However, Vargas convinced him, as she was aware of Delsin’s difficulties and trauma from his time as a Spartan. Sitting next to him while at a makeshift bar in the village, Sylvia shared that she made her fair share of mistakes during her time in Army Special Forces, and wasn’t sure she was cut out to be a leader either. However, Vargas imparted some words that were drilled into his head for days.
“Delsin, mi hijo, you can’t let shit like that rule your entire life. We all falter, even when the chips are down.”
“This is a second chance, a chance that rarely ever comes, can’t you see that?
“What would your friends want you to do? Your familia?”
Delsin took a seat on a log, sitting in front of the campfire, flames flickering as he thought about Eris, Red, Adam, Min, and everyone in their final resting spots on Pegasi Delta. He owed it to them to move forward, and not curl up and wait to die. Maybe they despised him now and, in whatever afterlife they shared, didn’t care for him. 
Even so, Delsin wanted to make things right, that was the least he could do.
As horseplay and dancing broke out, Sylvia took a seat next to Delsin, while Katya, Jonathan, and a drunken soldier sat across from them. The drunk began to sing, like a space cat that was being mauled to death, making Delsin wince and prompting Sylvia to toss her cup at the drunk to shut him up, drinking his head, as he fell over and passed out. With his acoustic guitar, a clean-faced Wilky, the only other person that wasn’t wasted out of his mind, took the drunk’s seat and began to tune his guitar over the sound of nasally snoring. He then started to play a song, or, at least, he tried too, trying to get his fingering right.
Sylvia ruffled Delsin's as she took another swig from her cup, rocking back and forth, as Katya and Jonathan snickered at the sight, before both militiamen drunkenly tried to smooch each other. Delsin could only smile and laugh at the scene, feeling something he hadn’t felt in months.
That he wasn’t alone.
Laughs and singing rang out the night sky, as Wilky’s sloppy, but soulful guitar playing tried to keep up with the off-kiltered drunken chorus that couldn't make up what song they were singing together.
===Chapter 14===
“Delsin, wake up.”
Sylvia’s voice rang in Delsin’s ears, as his eyes fluttered open, seeing Sylvia standing over him and his bunk bed, wearing her vest and cargo pants as if there was another field exercise. Delsin looked over the holo-clock, flashing 4:30 AM. 
“Commander, what the hell? I’ve got two more hours of sleep.”
“Two more hours, mi nalgas. Get up, quietly,” whispered Sylvia, more forcefully as to hurry the sleepy-eyed Delsin from his bed. Delsin slowly got up and stretched, switching out of his shorts and t-shirt into some thrown-on fatigues as quickly as he could.
“Can I at least grab a cup of Joe, jeez?”
Sylvia shushed him, and Delsin switched attitudes, seeing the visible concern from Sylvia’s face. 
“Something’s going on…”
After quietly stepping out of the bunk house with a few other sleeping soldiers, Delsin and Sylvia marched across the huts, still filled with sleep folks. Delsin tried to piece together what got Sylvia bothered as he walked. 
Delsin truly grasped the urgency of the situation when he quickly realized that both he and the Commander were heading out of the settlement, and to the Militia’s military complex, resting over the cliff sides of the lagoon, where he took his first steps on Curdan’s Keep. On their way to the central command center, Delsin spotted a small group of militiamen, loading and checking weapons frantically, while the mechanics were checking the ‘Hogs and their lone Scorpion battle tank sitting underneath a large canopy.
“Ok, they’re all freaked out right now, what is happening?” thought Delsin, as he entered into a rustic, steel building housing the command center. Delsin walked into a scene of nervous and scared Militiamen and women scurrying about, barking orders and status updates. In the center of the room, on a slightly elevated platform, a holo imaging table was surrounded by Vargas’s trusted Lieutenants and Governor Zane, who was carefully watching imaging of the planet.
Delsin noticed the imaging showing the flotilla gathered closely over the planet, as if it were about to engage in a fight.
Walking up the table, Delsin approached, coming face-to-face with Zane from across the table, who was flanked by Sylva. “Governor, what’s happening?” asked Delsin.
“We’re hoping you could tell us.” Zane replied, his gaze still fixed on the table. 
Vargas interjected. “The long-range sensors were picking up pings near the system, unknown ship signatures, not UNSC that’s for sure.”
Delsin quickly picked up on what was happening, and why he was summoned.
“Are you asking me if…”
“Yes," Zane sternly replied, cutting to the chase before Delsin could finish his thought.
Delsin stood there in silence, looking at the holographic table, seeing red pings on the projection, signaling anomalies and unknown signatures. He didn’t know for sure, and ran through a dozen other explanations, unmarked human ships, rebels, meteors, anything that could explain away these pings. Delsin didn’t want his worst nightmare to come to pass, trying to shove that thought out of his head. In the end, the Spartan knew, deep down in his gut, what these sensors were actually picking up. 
“I think it is, Governor. The Covenant are here.”
Zane and Vargas looked at each other, with Zane nodding to Sylvia, who immediately marched off outside, and Delsin could hear her barking orders as she went outside, order that the rest of the militia be on combat alert, dispatching some of her men to gather the Militia and wake those who were still sleeping at this time.
Delsin, knowing that one Covenant cruiser could take them all out in one fell swoop, came to one conclusion on their next course of action.
“Governor, we need to evacuate the planet.” Delsin blurted. Zane finally looked at Delsin, the Spartan now grabbing his attention. “One Covenant ship can wipe out the entire settlement and our forces,” Delsin continued. “I don’t know if Captain Sands and the CMA ships can even take one Covenant ship, let alone an entire battle group if it comes to that.”
Zane stood there silently, pondering the words of the militia's newest squad leader. Zane then turned to a couple of militia personnel behind him. “Get the word out, I'm issuing a mass evacuation order, get the Banta transports ready and be fast.”
“Why not just use your colony ship to get everyone off?” asked Delsin.
“We salvaged too much off the ship to get it up and running quickly. We used parts and material to build our facilities and settlement here, and to keep the flotilla going all these years,” Zane hastily responded. “It would take time to get to an operational state, time we clearly do not have. We’ll have to use our Banta-class transports from the hangars to get our people off-world.”
Delsin nodded, glad to see Zane was on top of things. “Alright, we can use my Black Cat, as well, it can help with getting more people off this world. I’m going to see Wilky, get my armor and gear.” Delsin began to walk off approaching the open doorway out of the command center, his thoughts only focused on preparing their defenses.
“Delsin," Zane called out. Delsin quickly turned to face the Governor, seeing his somber eyes now trained on him.
“Thank you, for sticking by us when you didn’t have to.” said Zane, showing some warmth towards the Spartan “prisoner.”
Delsin acknowledged his words with a nod and walked out of the building, now motivated to get these people to safety.
As Delsin walked across the runway, he spotted Vargas, rallying squad leaders and barking orders. The Spartan approached from behind. “On my way to Wilky to get my armor on, do you need anything ma’am?”
“Don’t bother, I had Wilky deliver your armor and gear here in the armory last night.”
“Why?” asked Delsin, following the Commander to the armory amidst the busy and panicked personeel on the base gathering weapons and equipment, alongside the pilots and engineers rushing to the hangars rushing to get the transports ready.
“It was to be a surprise, since he finished a few days ago. We tried repairing as best we could, but that shit is well-above Wilky’s and his dad’s expertise. The HUD is barely functional, sorry. We were going to customize it for you with paint and artwork from Wilky and Katya, to commemorate your stay.”
Delsin and Sylvia arrived at the steel doors that led into a large, square steel bunker. The doors slid open, as the lights turned on. Delsin eyes widened at the sight before, seeing his repaired SPI armor pieces sitting on a steel table, covered in a new coat of dark, green paint and his bulbous helmet’s visor now tinted gray. 
“Hope you like it.” Vargas watched at the doorway, seeing Delsin slowly walk right up to the dusty, steel table, where his armor pieces were sitting. The Spartan also noticed a custom M392 DMR sitting on the table, spray-painted black, all cleaned-up, a telescopic scope, and topped out with a long-barrel. As he inspected his armor pieces, noticing ammo pouches added to the chest piece and metal leg pieces that could be strapped on, Delsin grabbed and lifted his SPI helmet to his face, barely able to see the reflection off the gray tint. 
A faint whisper flew into his ear, hearing the haunting voice of Eris.
“Gonna finally fight, coward? Took you long enough. Just know, they’re all gonna die anyway.”
Delsin's eyes became fierce and intense and he quickly grabbed the chest piece, and the Spartan turned to face Sylvia.
“There is one more thing I think you should do, Commander…”
In the dense jungles, shrouded by large flora and fauna with the Curdan’s tropical trees providing shade overhead, Delsin, now clad in his old SPI armor, sat over a ridge, alongside Jonathan and a six-man team of Militia fighters laying on their bellies, overlooking a dirt road below that carved into the jungle. Delsin held a small, cylindrical device in his right hand, with his thumb slightly hovering over a red button on top of said device. 
Delsin spotted the other fireteam of Militia fighters on the other side of the road, in position and their weapons ready.
“Good, they're in position. We only have one shot at this”
This wasn’t what he expected at all. 
About an hour ago, a strike force of Covenant ships arrived in system, and, as expected, made quick work of the CMA flotilla. Sitting in the command center back at the base and listening into the comms, Delsin could hear the cries and screams of Captain Sands and his crew, as they were slaughtered, unable to stand against superior Covenant ship technology. All they could do was buy whatever time they could for the Cargo transports to load up the civilians, get off the planet. and flee the system. 
Delsin and his squad hastened the evacuation efforts, trying to evacuate as many as they could before the Covenant started glassing Curdan’s Keep.
Except the Covenant seemed to have a different idea.
Instead of Covenant battlecruisers raining plasma fire on the planet, a lone Covenant Heavy Corvette dropped to the surface, and Phantom dropships poured out to ferry Covenant infantry and armor to the surface. Watching the holo-projections back at the outpost, Delsin couldn’t help but remember that eerie image of Covenant troops and aircraft that swarmed Beta Company on Pegasi Delta. How helpless he felt. How scared he was. 
“Never again.” murmured Delsin. 
Recon drones, a final gift by the fallen CMA personnel, were able to track the Covenant troop movements, allowing Vargas to plan their defense. Delsin and his squad were going to ambush the Covenant vanguard, buying time for Vargas and the rest of the Curdan Militia to quickly set up whatever defenses they could around the settlement. Delsin and his team would quickly retreat to join them. A few transports were loaded up and fled, but there were still about a few hundred more Civilians to load and evacuate. They needed more time, and Delsin was determined to give them every second they needed. Delsin and his squad hastily placed MX-10 explosive bricks along the dirt road, ready to trigger at the press of a button.
Suddenly, the familiar rumblings of a Wraith and loud footstompin could be heard, approaching the curve on the dirt road.
“Everyone in position.” Delsin whispered, lowering himself enough to not be spotted over the ridge, with his fireteam following suit. Delsin watched the edge of the road, waiting for the Covenant to show up.
Sure enough, they did.
Delsin could see a couple lances of Covenant warriors, recognizing the ugly visages of the split-jawed Elites and the ugly, bulldog-like gremlins called Grunts, joined by the even-uglier, featherless bird-like, shield-wielding Jackals. A blue Wraith followed closely behind them, an Elite on the gunner position, with another lance following close behind.
“Jesus almighty, look at those things!” muttered one Militiaman, clenching his rifle and teeth in fear. “Are we fighting fucking monsters?” Jonathan spoke, loud enough for a Jackal to twitch in their general direction. Delsin had forgotten briefly that Curdan fighters never fought or seen the Covenant before. 
In fact, this was probably going to be their first taste of actual combat. 
Delsin turned to place his finger on his visor, to signal a “shush”. Delsin returned his focus to the road below, watching and waiting for the lead blue-armored Elite to reach the next bend. As the Elites got closer and closer to the bend, he stopped as he felt he stepped on something unnatural under his hoof. Lifting his leg up, a MX-10 brick, barely concealed by the dirt, came into his view.
“Surprise, bastards.”
Deksin pressed hard on the red button, and a violent chain-reaction of explosions consumed the entire road, kicking up clouds of dirt and grass in the air. The Wraith erupted into blue flames from the explosions, as the burning Sangheili driver tried to crawl out of its flaming cockpit, before succumbing to his wounds and his burning body slinking back into cockpit of the burning tank. 
“Open fire!” yelled Delsin, as he poked out over the ridge, spraying fire from his DMR into the Covenant aliens below, with his squad following suit.
The Covenant that had not been blown sky high, were now being shredded by rifle fire from the humans. Delsin focused his fire on the surviving Elites, knowing their shields were likely gone or greatly diminished. Through his scope, Delsin watched his bullet enter through their heads and chests, frantically squeezing the trigger.
Within minutes it was over, the entire column was wiped.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Delsin ordered. The Spartan looked over the carnage below, seeing a burning Wraith and dead aliens scattered about the road. Light cheering could be heard from the other ridge across, where the other Militia fireteam had been firing from, soon followed by some more cheering by Delsin’s team.
Over the comms, Katya, the fireteam leader and now Delsin’s second, was beaming with pride and confidence. “We got those bastards! Hey, Del! What were you so worried about anyw–”
Before Delsin could utter the words “stay focused”, she was cut off by a large green plasma ball flying and crashing behind her, engulfing the team in flames and sending Katya flying and crashing below. 
“Fuck!” Delsin flinched and looked up to see a purple, bulbous aircraft zipping over them.
“Shit. A Banshee.”
Delsin and his fireteam frantically opened fire to the sky, trying to desperately shoot down the Banshee that just wiped their entire team. “Fall back! Fall Back! Get to the rally point!” ordered Delsin. The panicking militia fighters did so with haste, running back into the jungles. Before Delsin followed them out, he heard a crackle over the comms, a female voice groaning in pain.
Delsin looked over the ridge to look at the small road below, and noticed Katya was alive and moving, reaching her hand out to the sky. Delsin blinked, and suddenly it was Erie laying there, her mangled SPI-armored body laying their as she was reaching out for him. Delsin shook his head to shake the image from his head. Delsin jumped down and rushed to Katya’s side. He examined her, not finding any serious wounds on her. “Del? I-” Katya weakly spoke before Delsin cut her off. “You’re fine. I got you.” Delsin quickly hoisted Katya over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, rifle in hand, and began to trudge away from the scene before the Banshee made another pass.
“You’re gonna save her? But not me? Or Erie?” Red’s hushed voice in his ear, contempt dripping in his tone. Delsin tried to ignore it, only to hear Erie again. “Del never cared about us, you shouldn’t be surprised Red.” Erie’s venomous words rang out like a faint bell, her words echoing in his head.
Delsin kept walking, a barely-conscious Katya over his shoulder, trying to ignore his ghosts as he disappeared into the jungle. 
***
Delsin sprinted across the jungle, DMR in his hands, avoiding the plasma fire and bullets flying over him. Busting through some shrubbery, Delsin charged and tackled a blue-armored Elite from behind, bringing him down to the dirt. Delsin violently smashed the butt of his rifle on the Elite’s skull a few times, until it stopped moving. The two Grunts at the Elite’s flank stood there, stunned and frightened at the sight of their lance leader being beaten to death. “What? Spartan got your tongue?” asked Delsin. Before the Grunts could even react and fire their plasma pistols, Delsin let off two quick shots from his DMR into their heads. 
“Alright, another Covie lance is down.”
It had been a couple hours since the Covenant landed, and Delsin and squads of Militia fighters have been busy trying to slow their advance to the settlement. Using the jungle terrain and their knowledge of it to their advantage, Delsin and Curdan fighters have been able to harass and inflict casualties on Covenant troops and armored columns trying to push through. Delsin checked the ammo counter on his DMR, the “06” flashing just below his scope. Delsin heard bullets whizzing by him, as Militia fighters from the other side were assuming there were still Covenant forces there. Delsin ducked behind a tree log to avoid friendly fire, activating the COM in his helmet. 
“Third Squad, cease fire, I got the Covenant already..You’re shooting at me now.”
The bullets stopped flying overhead.
“Roger, we’ll shift focus on the left flank.” a elderly voice came over. Delsin peeked over the log, seeing a few camouflaged troopers scurrying from behind the treeline. Suddenly, another voice chimed over the COM.
“Delsin, you still alive?” Sylvia’s voice blared in his ear. “Still kickin’” responded Delsin, as he sat behind the log. He could hear Sylvia’s labored breathing, something wasn’t right in her voice.”
“We’ve got issues at Sector Six. Fourth Squad ran into some ugly-ass blue tank, and they can’t do shit about it.”
“On it.” Delsin leaped over the log, and ran across the jungle. Climbing over natural obstacles, Delsin remained attentive of his surroundings, hearing distant gunfire, explosions, and plasma fire. Delsin had been running around the defensive line nonstop, traversing the flanks and defenses to provide whatever support he could for these last few hours. As he took a breather, Delsin caught the noise of rumbling engines above, stopping to look up at the sky. From a distance, Delsin could make out the distant silhouette of a Banta-class transport flying overhead, as it flew higher and higher before vanishing from view.
“Good, another one gone, can’t be much left.”
Delsin resumed his run, and within minutes found himself on a small knoll overlooking a river that split the jungle plains below. On his left, Delsin could spot four militia fighters dug in within a ditch, avoiding the large, plasma blobs crashing around them. Delsin noticed the Wraith and a few Elites on the other side of the river, laying down heavy fire. Without hesitation, Delsin ran down the hillock as fast as he could. “C’mon, get there, Delsin.” thought the Spartan, running as fast as he could to reach the Wraith before it found its mark.
As he reached the site of battle, Delsin jumped into the river, wading through the currents as he tried to reach the other side of split plains. After getting out of the river, Delsin carefully crept around the hedgerows behind the Wraith and Covenant warriors, readying a frag grenade from his waist. Delsin slowly crept behind the Wraith, towards the exposed rear where the exhaust port hid behind. Delsin watched the Elites nearby to ensure they didn’t notice, unaware of the human that was about to ruin their day. Coming face to face with the exhaust port, Delsin primed and threw the frag inside, running back and diving into the tall grass as it went off, igniting a violent, fiery explosion that blew the Wraith into pieces and flinging the nearby Elites in the air.
Delsin quickly stood up and moved in front of the tank, looking out to the otherside of the river. Two shaken-up militia fighters stood up to figure out what happened, and why the Wraith stopped firing. Delsin waved his hand towards the militiamen. “You guys good?” Delsin said over the COM.
“Yeah, uh, we’re good, thanks Del,” said a shaken maile voice, Delsin could recognize it was Jonathan’s from his familiar inflection. Out of the blue, Sylvia’s voice cracked over the COM. “Delsin, gather who you can and fall back to the settlement. The alien bastards have broken through on our left flank.” 
“Shit.” muttered Delsin under his breath. 
“Be quick, Del.” Sylvia said before the COM cut out.
Delsin reloaded a fresh magazine into his DMR, and signaled the Militia fireteam on the other end of the river to hold their position, as Delsin dove back into the river.
***
With the metal and wooden huts and towers now consumed by flames, plasma and gunfire flying every direction, Zane’s Landing was being torn to shreds. Across the settlement, Militia fighters and civilians who volunteered to fight desperately fired their rifles, shotguns, and pistols from behind barricades, within their homes, and overturned vehicles. The Covenant attackers slowly, but surely pushed into the settlement, clearing out each block of the settlement, but not without taking casualties. The bodies of humans and aliens strewn across the settlement, and buildings and huts being blown apart by Wraiths bombarding the area from a distance and Banshees flying overhead.
Taking cover behind a steel fridge inside the wet market, Sylvia was firing off her MA37 Assault rifle at the Grunts marching towards her. Also taking cover with her was an elderly man, donning military fatigues, as the man was dressing a plasma burn on the left side of her body.
“Chinga tu madre, Doc,” Sylvia cried, wincing as the gauss and bandage was hastily applied to her left side. Sylvia continued to fire her Assault rifle until the clip emptied, slinking down to cover to reload. Sylvia then noticed, coming around the corner, was Delsin, his SPI armor now more scratched up. Delsin ran to Sylvia, crouching down at her side.
“You okay, ma’am?” Delsin worriedly asked, noticing the gash on her side was still bleeding. Sylvia only smiled, sensing the worried eyes of her newest subordinate behind that grayed-out visor on that bulbous helmet. “Fine, mi hijo. Don’t worry about me.”
Delsin had been running across the settlement for the last hour, helping pinned down Militia and Civilian fighters in fending off these alien invaders. Vargas could tell the young teen was giving it his all, always on the move. She wondered if he was even exhausted. If he was, his calm voice and body language hid it well. At the same time, both Delsin and Sylvia looked up to the sky, hearing the roar of engines zoom over them. They watched another Banta transport zipping away from the settlement, and disappearing into the atmosphere. 
“That’s the last one. Now, it’s our turn to get off this rock.” Sylvia remarked, struggling to stand. Delsin pushed her back down. “You can’t move much. Doc, get her to the outpost, and then get the wounded ready for evac.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, De–Argghh!” Sylvia tried to move, but the pain was overbearing as the adrenaline seemed to be wearing off for her. Delsin looked at Sylvia, and then he looked around the wet market. Delsin saw scared folks, young teens like him or the elderly, huddled together behind cover and firing their weapons blindly in the Covenant’s general direction. Others were writhing and screaming in pain from the plasma burns and needler rounds hitting them, the overwhelmed medics and fighters trying to treat them, or, at least, ease their suffering. All this while plasma bolts grazed past them, and explosions went off around them. 
“I know what I have to do.” Delsin thought.
“Then do it.” a faint whisper responded from behind him.
Delsin turned his COM on. “All squads fall back to Outpost Gee-Two-Seven. I repeat, fall back. It's your turn to leave. Zane probably has the transport ready.” Delsin turned his focus to Sylvia, “Commander, take the Black Cat, stuff who you can and follow the last Banta out.” Sylvia’s face turned confused. “What are you-”
“I’ll hold them off, for as long as I can,” said Delsin. Sylvia's eyes became panicked, realizing what Delsin was doing. “No, nuh-uh, you’re coming with us.” Sylvia barked, with a quiver in her voice.
“They’ll be hot on our heels if I don’t delay them. This is the only way, Sylvia.” Delsin gave a quick, tight hug to Sylvia, a hug that he always gave to his mother, back on Jericho VII when he was a kid. “Now go!”
The elderly medic nodded, throwing Sylvia’s arm over her shoulder and walking her off with him behind him. Delsin turned and focused on the battle in front of him, firing his weapons at a pair of Jackals, but also doing this to avoid Sylvia’s pained expression, feeling her worried gaze behind him. Delsin loaded in his last magazine for his DMR, firing shots to keep the incoming Covenant Warriors back from advancing. As the battle dragged, he noticed that they were slowly falling back, but not much, as if they were going to regroup for one last assault.
Firing one last shot that domed a Grunt in between his eyes, Delsin threw down the DMR, and noticed Sylvia’s MA37, resting on the fridge. It had a fresh mag in, and Delsin immediately grabbed and retreated from the ruined wet market. 
“Well, Del, this is it. Maybe, you won’t screw up like you did back on Pegasi Delta.” Red’s voice chimed in next to Delsin, who refused to turn, knowing nobody was there.
“I promise, I won’t.”
***
Amidst the smoke and haze coming from burning structures and homes in Zane’s Landing, Delsin, with a M41 Rocket Launcher over his shoulder while holding his MA40 rifle, slowly walked to the centra; area of the now-hushed settlement. The Spartan walked right over the alien and human corpses, riddled and scarred by gun and plasma fire. Delsin did his best to ignore the sights, as he tried to keep his focus.
“Feels familiar, huh, Del?” Red’s bitter whispers sneaking up on him, and nearly stopping in his tracks.
Sitting before Delsin, finally reaching the village center, was a crossroad with a long pile of sandbags that shielded a tripod-mounted M247H machine gun, abandoned by some Militia fighters he ordered to retreat a few minutes ago. Finding himself surrounded by abandoned and war torn steel buildings and wooden huts, Delsin took his position behind the sandbags, dumping the launcher next to him and resting his assault rifle on the sandbags. 
Slinking down to the ground and resting on the bags, Delsin carefully removed his helmet, resting it next to him. He was going to take advantage these few minutes of respite before the Covenant came rolling in again. Delsin was going to buy enough time for the Banta and Black Cat to leave, fight off the Covenant assault for as long as he can.
Then, he could rest.
Hearing the distant rumblings and a series of hoove stomps getting closer, likely Covenant armor with an escort, Delsin, from a pouch on his chestplate, took out a pair of earpods and placed him in his ears. He clumsily took out a Katya’s player, pressing play. The Spartan knew he was going to die here and now, and he wanted to experience music one more time before he went. 
Not to mention, it would shut those buzzing whispers from his dead “friends.”
Delsin pressed the play button, and the harsh, mechanical sounds of drums, guitars, and other instruments he couldn’t name bursted into his ears. The violent crashing of cymbals and intense guitar strumming filled Del’s mind, recognizing the tune almost immediately through the harsh lyrics and bassline. 
C'mon/Get away and save yourself/Turn away and don't look back/Get away and save yourself/Grey skies are turning black.
“Fitting, I guess...” 
Delsin stood up, and manned the M247H, cocking the handle back and pointing down a narrow road shrouded by smoke. Delsin watched closely, his finger ready to squeeze, trying to wait for the smoke to clear a bit. 
Then, the Spartan saw it. 
Delsin spotted the familiar orange color of a Grunt’s armor and the blue shade of an Elite's harness through the smoke. Delsin quickly squeezed the trigger hard on the heavy machine gun, as the music in his ears grew intense, the lyrics from a gruff, pissed off male singer practically singing alongside the hail of bullets.
'Cause I will always/Hurt everyone I love/If I were you/I'd run away 'cause it's true.
As the rock music blared in his ears, Delsin could see a few Grunts get shredded from his line of fire, and saw some blue-armored Sangheili warriors desperately trying to charge forward at the Spartan, firing their blue plasma rifles. Delsin, unfazed by the plasma bolts flying right by him, kept his finger on the trigger, as he took down a few more Sangheili warriors that foolishly charged his nest.
From the smoke covering the main road, the familiar blue, bulbous chassis of a Wraith tank busted out of the smoke, firing its mortar at the Delsin’s nest. With a few seconds to spare, Delsin grabbed the launcher and leaped out of the way, barely escaping the blast, creating a small crater where the sandbags used to be. Quickly getting up, Delsin fired off a rocket at the Wraith, said rocket flying and crashing into the chassis. A violent explosion slightly pushed the Wraith back, but it was still operational and fired off its mortar cannon again in the Spartan’s direction.
“Ah, hell.”
Delsin attempted to leap out of the way again, but he was close enough to the blast for it to send him flying into a wooden hut, crashing through a wall. Delsin laid there, pieces of wood on top of him. Moving around, Delsin could hear rattling inside his helmet, as the earbuds had fallen out of his ears as he was flung in the air. Delsin peeked up, and he could see a pair of Elites with a few Grunts approaching the hut, the Wraith not too far behind them. Delsin slid off the M6C magnum from his thigh, and stood up slowly. The Covenant warriors slowly raised their plasma weapons at the sight of the Spartan, ready to fire. Delsin felt a calm, but also an anger within him, knowing the end was here, and it didn’t go like he wanted to.
“Man, to hell with this, and to hell with all of you.”
As Delsin raised his pistol, bracing for the barrage of plasma bolts about to shred his body, the Wraith burst into blue flames behind the Covenant warriors. The alien foot soldiers turned in reaction to the explosion, looking for the cause. Suddenly, Delsin watched a hail of bullets zip through the bodies of surprised Grunts and Elites.
“What the hell?”
Delsin quickly joined in, firing off his magnum at the alien warriors, killing one Elite with a precise headshot that had its shields depleted by the bullets that crashed into him. Delsin stepped out, the village center now surrounded by smoke and fire.from the burning towers and huts. Through the smoke, Delsin could make out five, no, six human-shaped figures approaching, their weapons at the ready. 
“Goddamnit, I told you all to fall back to the base, what are you-” Delsin stopped mid-yell, as the smoke started clearing up. The emerging six human soldiers were donned in black, tactical body armor, wearing black helmets with bluish silver color glass on their faceplates. Putting the images together in his head, Delsin let out a sigh of relief.
“ODSTs? Thank god.”
The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers set up a perimeter around Delsin, scanning the ruined settlement around them. One ODST, an MA5B assault rifle in his hands, approached Delsin, extending his hand for a shake, which Delsin obliged. “Oye, Spartan, you good? We got your SOS from Commander Vargas, and the brass was adamant that we ignore it. They thought it was an Innie trap.”
“You came anyway?” Delsin asked, noting that he heard this gruff, accented voice from somewhere before, but couldn’t place it. “Yeah, well, I figure a Spartan with Tier One intel was probably worth the risk.”
“Uh, yeah, Tier One.” Delsin had forgotten to make up an explanation for not having said Tier One intel. Back at the outpost a few hours back, Delsin told Vargas that she should send out an SOS message, saying they needed assistance because they had Spartan, who was in possession of valuable intel.
He didn’t actually think it would work, but it was worth a shot at least. 
“I’m in so much shit if I make it off here.”
Delsin's eyes widened, suddenly remembering Vargas and the surviving Militia fighters. “Vargas! The survivors! Are they-” The ODST lifted his hand to calm the Spartan. “They’re fine, the Banta and Black Cat were about to take off when we arrived. Vargas told us you stayed behind to buy time, so we doubled-time our asses here before you bit it. Looks like we got here just in time.”
Suddenly, plasma bolts flew between them, forcing Delsin and the ODST to duck out of the way. The other troopers opened fire on the source of the Covenant fire, slowly moving behind debris from fallen and blown apart huts. Delsin retreated back into the wooden hut he was hurled into, firing his Magnum from cover.
“Sergeant!” a male ODST yelled through the COM. “I’ve got more Covies here, the bastards are having another go at us!” 
Delsin looked out, suddenly saw a Banshee bomb crashed nearby, nearly hitting the ODST Sergeant. Delsin looked up to see the Banshee to make a turn for another run. Delsin then saw his M41 Rocket Launcher laying on the dirt ground, with plasma bolts and bullets flying in front of him.
“I guess that it’s, there is no way you have the guts to get out there and get that Spanker.” Erie’s voice rang in his head. Delsin could feel her voice, as if she was standing next to him. “Just leave, let’s get out of here while we still can,” Red’s voice chimed in, as if he suddenly replaced Erie. Delsin closed his eyes, trying to ignore these ghosts in his head. 
“Let’s go, Del,” Red and Erie’s voices rang out simultaneously. Delsin slowly opened his eyes.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Delsin ran across the open crossroads, weaving past the plasma bolts flying by him, as he tried to run to the launcher. As he was a few steps away, Delsin dove forward, grabbing the launcher, and rolling though into a firing position. The Spartan spotted the approaching Banshee firing its twin plasma cannons. The Spartan quickly aimed, and fired. The rocket flew out its tube, zipping up into the sky. Within seconds, the rocket crashed into the bulbous Covenant aircraft, blowing the craft into pieces in a fiery explosion.
Delsin, dropped the M41, and looked to a few ODSTs taking cover behind a pile of metal sheets and wood, who were glaring at the Spartan. “What?” Delsin asked. With plasma bolts still flying around, Delsin quickly joined the ODSTs, sliding behind the wooden and steel debris for cover.
“Good job, Spartan.” The ODST Sergeant came over the COM again. Delsin turned to find the Sergeant, who was firing his assault rifle from behind a hut nearby. “Now, help us, push these bastards out.” The Sergeant signaled with his hand to push forward
Delsin nodded in response, readying his Magnum. However, just as he was standing up, he was tugged back down by his wrist by an ODST next to him. “You’re not going out there with a pea shooter, Spartan.” said the female ODST in a firm voice. “Here, just take my MA5.” The trooper handed her assault rifle to the Spartan, which Delsin gingerly grabbed out of her hands.
“You, uh, you sure?” Delsin asked. He then saw the ODST pull a silenced M7 submachine gun off her thigh. “It’s fine, now go!” the ODST responded sharply. Delsin nodded and he leaped over the debris, firing bursts from his newly-gifted weapon. The ODSTs then followed Delsin’s lead, moving out of cover and firing their weapons into the smokey pathways from where plasma bolts were being fired from.
Delsin and the ODSTs moved forward, firing their weapons at the Covenant fighters hidden within the smoke, before disappearing into the smog themselves to engage the alien attackers. 
***
“45 minutes later....”
As they entered into the now-empty and desolate militia outpost, Delsin and the ODST troopers jogged across the runway, blazing past crates and steel buildings as they reached a sitting Pelican dropship. The ODST Sergeant led the charge, waving his free arm that wasn’t holding his assault rifle in the direction of the Pelican. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s go before the Covie bastards figure out what happened.”
The ODSTs and Delsin were able to force the Covenant fighters to break off the attack, after pushing their lances back from the ruined settlement. Using this brief moment of pause, Delsin and the ODSTs quickly retreated back to the Curdan outpost, as their evac ship waited for them. The troopers jumped into the bay, as the dropships' engine hummed to life. As Delsin and the Sergeant approached the bay themselves, a booming noise thundered the sky, and both soldiers turned to sky to see a Covenant battlecruiser break through the clouds. Suddenly, another cruiser appeared, and then another.
“I don’t get it.” Delsin said, turning to the Sergeant. “Why come here? Why not glass this world and move on?” The ODST, also looking up at the sky, remained silent for a moment, before turning to the Spartan. “My guess is that there is something they want on this planet. What it is, I have no goddamn clue.”
“Is it the temple?” Delsin recalling the weirdly-shaped stone temple hidden within the jungles, the one Governor forbade everyone else from entering. He wondered why the Governor made that place off-limits, and if he knew something that he didn't. As they watched, numerous small bulbous-shaped dots could be seen trending towards the surface, in the direction of the now-desolate and ruined settlement. Both Spartan and ODST stared back at each other and realized what was coming.
“Alright, time to leave.” The Sergeant remarked, climbing into the bay. Delsin followed him in, as the doors closed shut. The Pelican then slowly lifted off the runway, beaming away from the Outpost. Delsin looked through the window slit, seeing the jungle surface distance itself from him, before the view disappeared through the clouds.
The ODST Sergeant approached the Spartan from behind.
“We’re on our way to the Black Edge, our Prowler, and we will jump out of the system as soon as we can. Hell of a job, Spartan. It took a lot of guts to stay behind to make sure everyone was safely off the planet.”
“Guts? I wish I had that earlier.” Delsin muttered, the Sergeant faintly catching those words. “I’m sorry, Spartan?”
“Nevermind.” Delsin blurted, his eyes still focused on the window, as the view became darkened as the dropship was in orbit over Curdan’s Keep.
The Sergeant took off his black helmet, revealing scruffed, black hair, and a small beard forming on his face.“I forgot to introduce myself, Sergeant Contreras, AAG. Nice to meet you, Spartan.” Delsin turned, and went wide-eyed behind the visor of his bulbous helmet. 
“No way, it’s him?!”
Delsin remembered the trooper that comforted him back on Jericho VII, after he was rescued by a Spartan all those years. The reassurance he gave to find his family, as the medic stitched his cut inside some tent. There was an awkward silence between the two in the bay, with some of the troopers taking notice. “Uhh, Spartan?” Contreras was a little confused, why the Spartan was just staring him down. Delsin shook his head slightly, and began to take off his helmet. “Sorry Sergeant, just didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Again?” Contreras questioned. “We’ve met before? You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve met a few Spartans, but I don’t recall you.”
“Not as a Spartan, Sergeant.” Delsin said, as he removed his helmet, his earbuds falling from his helmet onto the steel floor. Watching the Spartan pick the buds off the floor, Contreras saw a young, teenage face in front of him. Then, Contreras quickly recognized the eyes and dark complexion immediately; it was the eyes and face of a scared boy he put on Pelican during the Battle of Jericho VII all those years ago. Contreras’s rugged face went from slight confusion to utter shock within seconds, as he put two and two together.
“Delsin-B240, nice to see you again, Sergeant.” The Spartan happily exclaimed, extending his hand out for a shake.
“Jesus christ. Those bastards, they did it again!” Contreras seethed, with anger in his voice that made the Spartan and his ODST squad, who never seen their Sergeant this pissed before, nervous. The trip to the prowler became quiet, as both Delsin and the ODSTs tried to give the clearly upset Contreras some space, as the Sergeant took a seat in his own corner of the bay. Delsin took his own seat, wondering what he did that made the man that saved and comforted so upset.
Delsin turned to a ODST sitting next to him in the bay.
"Did I, uh, do something wrong?"
***
Zane’s Landing sat in ruins, smoke and fire from huts and shelters, alien and human bodies scattered about, and a Covenant corvette now hovering nearby. A red-armored Sangheili Zealot, followed closely by a trio of blue-armored subordinates, wandered the area, inspecting their dead and the ruins of this human settlement. The blood red-armored Elite leaned down, inspecting the dirt now soaked in his brothers’ blood, their warrior spirits now one with the beautiful planet.
“Rest easy, brothers. You will be avenged, and the stains of your failures wiped away.”
“Ossva, the area is secure. It looks like the humans have fled. Our Kig-Yar scouts have also found another human outpost, it looks to be abandoned, as well. Dyzo and his warriors are on their way to see for themselves.”
“Good, once that human outpost is secured. We can send in our dig times to the temple.” Ossva exclaimed. “I want extra security for them, and the Minister once he arrives on the planet. I do not want a repeat of past incidents, the humans are getting bolder as their desperation grows.” 
“Should we have given chase to the humans, Ossva? It seems reckless to let them flee the system.” the blue-armored Elite meekly asked Ossva, who slowly turned to face his nervous subordinate.
“I had the same thought, but the Fleetmaster is prioritizing the security of the Holy Site and our excavation on behalf of the Minister. As I said, we must not make the same mistakes, and leave them vulnerable.”
Ossva walked towards the blue-armored Elite, his tall frame looming over the nervous Minor, as the other two Minors looked on, stepping back as if a storm was coming through.
“You are lucky that I’m sympathetic to your concerns, otherwise, your questioning of the Minister’s action would’ve had…consequences. Keep your thoughts silent, and focus on the temple. Go, and prepare the site for the Minister’s and dig teams’ arrival.”
“Yes, Ossva.”
As the trio of Minor Elites walked away to carry out Ossva’s orders.Ossva looked around the human settlement, spotting the wreckage of Banshee split into pieces from an explosion, as its remains nestled in the dirt. Ossva examined the human corpses, clearly these humans were not warriors, as they looked either old and broken, or young and frightened. However, Ossva was surprised at the amount of corpses his brothers-in-arms were scattered about, as if they were just something else entirely.
“There is no doubt, a Demon must’ve been here,” Ossva thought, recalling the scenes of carnages these Spartans have wrought on the battlefield. 
"This level of destruction cannot be caused by these untrained filth. Count yourself lucky, demon. Know I will hunt you and the rest of your kind until you are nothing but fleeting tales of childish terror.”
Ossva walked away, disappearing into the smog of the settlement, as Banshees flew over the area, underneath the shadow of a Covenant cruiser that loomed over the skies.
===Chapter 15===
Slowly stepping onto the hangar bay of a UNSC refit and mobile medical station from the bay of a docked Pelican dropship, Delsin looked around the hangar, seeing medical teams and military police scurrying around him. It was weird to be back at some UNSC space station, after a year or so away. Sergeant Contreras approached from behind Delsin, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. 
“Follow me, Spartan.”
Delsin trailed the Sergeant, walking past the squad of ODSTs removing their gear and checking their weapons. Delsin stopped in front of them and walked right up to the blonde-haired, female ODST that lent him the weapon, sliding the Assault rifle off his back, and carefully handed it to her. Both shared a silent nod of gratitude, before Delsin resumed his walk with the Sergeant out of the bay. Delsin closely followed a Sergeant to an elevator shaft, where the trooper pressed on a digital button to call for the elevator. Delsin and the Sergeant hadn’t said a word to each other on the trip, not after Delsin reintroduced himself to Contreras.
Contreras suddenly spoke up. “I told AAG of your presence, and they want to personally debrief you.” Contreras sighed, sensing the nervous air between them. “I’m not mad at you, Spartan. I’m mad because of you, if that makes sense.”
“No, not really, Sergeant," Delsin meekly responded. Contreras only sighed, clearly struggling to explain why he was so upset. “Look, nevermind. I apologize, I shouldn’t have lost my cool, it’s just that-”
Suddenly, a commotion could be heard from the hanger, and both Delsin and Contreras turned around to see what was happening. Making their way towards Sylvia, Jonathan, Wilky, and a few other Militia fighters were cuffed and being pushed and shoved across by security troops. 
“Hey, get your hands off me, cabrones!” Sylvia snarled at a UNSC trooper holding her shoulder. Delsin watched as the UNSC soldiers were shoving his commander and the surviving Militia fighters, like they were prisoners or criminals. Delsin power-walked to the scene, the Sergeant following close behind.
“What the hell is this?!” Delsin angrily yelled, catching the attention of the guards and the station personnel. “Del!” yelled Vargas, happy to see that the Spartan was alive and in one piece. Vargas was jerked back by a security guard. One of the guards, noticing a green-armored figure marching to them, quickly raised his assault rifle at the Spartan, forcing Delsin to lean back at the sight. 
“Hey! Put your weapon down, trooper!” barked Contreras, as he stood in front of Delsin to get the antsy guard’s attention and to shove the weapon to point downwards. 
“Sir, these Innies are being escorted to-”
“Innies?! We’re not fuckin rebels.” yelled Delsin, his voice rising in anger as he heard the guard utter the words “Innies.”
Contreras gently shoved Delsin back to keep his distance from the guard.
“These are not Innies. These are Colonial militia we rescued during our last mission. What is happening here, Corporal?
The security trooper looked at both the ODST and Spartan staring daggers into him. The Spartan’s angry eyes started to unnerve the young security trooper. “Sergeant, we’ve been ordered to take these rebels, their words not mine, to the brig for interrogation. Also, we have orders for that Spartan over there, he is to be taken into custody, as well.”
“Wait. Custody? Why?” Contreras asked, clearly confused by these orders. “He is a Spartan, with Tier One intelligence for-”
“Apparently, he was considered MIA a year ago.” the security trooper interrupted. “Now that he is here, he is now considered AWOL.”
Contreras turned to the Spartan, trying see the Spartan's reaction. Delsin's face was of shock and confusion. He just became a prisoner, again. This time by the people that made him like this and put him in this position in the first place. 
“Well, Del. Can’t say you didn’t have this comin to ya.” Red’s voice chimed in, annoying Delsin as his taunting voice echoed. 
“Get out of my head.” Delsin slightly muttered under his breath, just quiet enough so no one heard him.
“Nah, Del. It’s cozy here. Besides, I need a new place to spend my afterlife. Can’t wait till Eris hears about this!” Red’s southern twinge broke through as he jokingly remarked on Delsin's predicament. It sounded as if he was right next to Delsin himself. The Sergeant could clearly see the kid was upset, and the Spartan's eyes showed nothing but hurt and fear. Turning back to the guard, Contreras got in his face. “Whose orders were they?” Contreras bluntly asked.
“That would be us, Sergeant,” an older female voice boomed from behind the Sergeant and the Spartan.
Two individuals, donning naval officer uniforms, strolled right up to Delsin, one male and one female. The male stood face-to-face with the fearful Spartan, an air of arrogance written all over his posh, elderly face that only made Delsin want to hit him in his flat nose.
“The Office of Naval Intelligence has a lot of questions for you, Bee-Two-Four-Zero. Especially on how you are still alive? And what have you been doing this past year?” How did these Innies get their hands on you, and why did you stay with them for a year?’
Contreras immediately stood between Delsin and the ONI agents. “AAG is supposed to debrief him, we can handle whatever-”
“This is now Section Zero business, not Section Three, Sergeant. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it is now.”
The Sergeant grimaced in anger, being forced to, once again, engage in the bullshit office politics of Naval Intelligence that had plagued him throughout his service.
“Corporal,” said the ONI officer in a calm tone. “Take this Spartan to the medical bay for a quick evaluation. Then, take him to one of the dormitories, where he is to be placed under guard until his interrogation.”
A trio of guards surrounded Delsin, weapons at the ready, pointing for him to go in the direction of the Elevator shaft. Delsin, clearly upset and nervous, begrudgingly followed their commands and walked to the shaft. “I’ll fix this, Delsin. Don’t worry about anything.” Contreras assured the Spartan, as the guards slowly escorted Delsin out of the bay towards the elevator shaft.
As he entered the elevator, Delsin could see Sergeant Contreras yelling up a storm at the ONI agents, with a couple of his helmetless ODSTs keeping him back to create space between them so their Sergeant wasn’t tempted to do something…physical.
With the metal doors sliding shut and the elevator flying upwards, Delsin, now in a tight metal box with three armed-guards around him, could only do one thing as he reflected on what led him to this point in his life. "Did all that, Just to end up a prisoner," Erie's voiced whispered. "Probably would've been better to let the Wraith vaporize you back at Curdan's."
Delsin just laughed in response, catching his security escort off guard. 
That was all he could do.
The light droning of the lights, the slight thud of boots walking around and the noise of clicking and clanking that filled the armory room, as rifles, pistols, semi-auto weapons hung on the walls like ornaments. A few soldiers walked around the silver metal room, as a large UNSC banner hung on a wall nearby, and the armorer put and placed weapons on his table, as he took inventory.
In the middle of this busy armory were two Spartans quietly preparing themselves for their upcoming high-risk mission in Covenant space, both donning their sleek, spruced-up MJOLNIR Mark IV armor with the exception of their helmets as they mentally prepped for another "suicide mission". However, to them, it was just another day in the office as Spartans for the Asymmetrical Action Group. Ryne, sitting on a counter and clad in his black, OPERATOR Mark IV armor, his helmet sitting on the corner of the metal table in front of him, was closely inspecting his custom DMR as he turned it over and scanned for any signs of defects. He looked through the scope as he aimed towards the metal ceiling, before setting the rifle back down and grabbing the M6C SOCOM pistol on table for the same inspection. 
“91…92…93”
Across from Ryne in the armory, Giulia, also in her green MJOLNIR Mark IV armor, pressed herself up as she continued her push-ups in the handstand position. Giulia's CQC helmet sat in front of her, as it watched her push her arms up and down at a steady pace. It was only just now some sweat began to drip from her forehead and onto the floor. However, Giulia kept her stride and muttered each number under her breath. Ryne glanced over to her, rolling his eyes at the sight as he turned his back to his pistol, inspecting the barrel and sights.
“Quit showing off, Giulia. You are not impressing anyone,” remarked Ryne as he turned his focus back to his DMR after setting down the pistol.
“I don’t know about that, the dudes near the cases seemed rather interested”, said Giulia as she hit 99 on her push-ups. Ryne looked back to see a couple of Marines nearby in a corner of the room, conversing and watching the spectacle as they moved around some weapon cases.
“Besides, I’m trying to beat my personal record.”
“You beat your personal record about twenty pushes ago, or can you not count?” Ryne snidely stated.
“Yeah, I’m setting a new one every time I do another push-up though, so I’ve got to keep going until the briefing,” Giulia jokingly responded with a smile as she hit 102.
Ryne scoffed and nodded his head in annoyance. He began to attach the silencer on his DMR, as he watched Giulia continue her handstand push-ups.
“Hey, how about I do this with one ha—“
“No, knock that shit off.” Ryne cut her off before letting Giulia finish that train of thought. “Your showboating is annoying enough and I don’t need you hurting yourself over a dumb stunt right before an op.”
Giulia let out a small laugh as she moved on to attempt 106. “I think you’re just jealous, Ryno. You wish you had abs like mine.”
Ryne pinched his eyes, and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, but where is your gear and weapons? I am set with my shit. Where is yours?” Ryne asked in a desperate bid to change the subject.
After hitting 109, Giulia responded. “Eric has already got me set up, don’t ya Eric?”
The black-haired, grizzled armorer nearby leaned back on his steel chair as he gently placed a silenced M7 submachine gun and a pair of Magnums on the table in front. “Yes, ma’am. Ready and waiting for some proper action. Also, in this warrant officer’s humble opinion, I do think he is jealous, ma’am.” the Warrant officer said with a cheeky grin.
Ryne muttered some curses under his breath as he returned to focusing on his rifle, not wanting to engage with the trite.
Suddenly, in the open doorway that led out to the hallway, both Ryne and Giulia spotted men and women in unfamiliar military gear and uniform walking handcuffed, marching past the armory as armed station guards escorted them. Ryne stood up from the table to see what was going, as did Giulia as she landed on her feet and followed Ryne to the open doorway. As they reached the opening, both Spartans saw a line of these prisoners being escorted, with their upset faces showing some battle-scars. Ryne put his arm out to stop one of the security guards walking by.
“Hey, what’s this? Are these some rebels we captured?” asked Ryne.
“Not sure, they’re not standard Innies. We rescued them when some Covies invaded their planet. It was called Curdan-something. Never heard of the place”, replied the guard.
“Rescued? Why would we stick our necks for a bunch of traitors?” stated Ryne in a cold tone as Giulia tried to hide her look of disappointment at the callousness of his statement.
“Apparently, these guys had a Spartan with them.” 
Both Ryne and Giulia get a perplexed look on their faces, glancing at each other as if they had both the same question running in their heads. “A Spartan? Like as a prisoner?” asked Ryne.
“Did you catch this Spartan’s name or tag?” Giulia chimed in. 
“I don’t know if he was a prisoner, but he did fight alongside these guys when AAG ODSTs rescued them apparently, and I think the ONI brass that was talking to him referred to him as Bee-Two-Four-Zero.”
Ryne glanced back at Giulia, who went wide-eyed at the realization that another of her company comrades was on the ship.
“Beta Company? I don’t recognize the tag number from the other Betas I have met. Giulia?” asked Ryne,his gaze still fixed upon Giulia.
“No, the tag is not Tom, Lucy, Bodark, Sam, Mathilda, or any of the other Betas that are still alive, but it sounds familiar,” replied Giulia as she furrowed her face as she tried to recall to whom the tag belonged. 
The guard slightly waved his hand to get their attention again.
“I did hear them say that they needed to know what happened with something called Torpedo, or something like that.”
Suddenly, after attaching a familiar face to the number when she heard the mention of TORPEDO, Giulia’s eyes widened and she animatedly got in the guard’s face, scaring him a bit as he leaned back thinking he was about to get an earful.
“Where is he?” Giulia asked, with unhinged excitement in her tone.
***
Delsin, sitting on the gurney bed in the medical bay still in his beat-up, patched-together SPI armor, looked at his hands, observing how torn-up and withered his gloves were. He looked at his helmet, sitting on the table opposite of him. It looked as if it was judging him, mocking him. Then, Eris popped in his head, smiling at him with her toothy grin. Delsin quickly looked back down.
He wished he could forget. He longed to forget.
A white-uniformed, masked up doctor came up to him, and began inspecting his dirty, cut-up face. The doctor grabbed his head, turning it gently from side-to-side. “Some small lacerations, I’ll do some clean up and should clear up in a few days.”, remarked the doctor as she returned to her table, covered in some scalpels, bottles and a data pad with Delsin’s personal info on the screen.
Delsin, head down and still inspecting his hands, could only make out an acronym on the tablet as he looked across the bay.
“MIA”
The doctor took the tablet, and she began swiping to read the rest of the info on her patient. Soon, other doctors and medical technicians entered the room, and began preparing themselves, as they looked over the scanning devices and field dressings sitting on a small steel tray.
The doctor looked up to see the Spartan sitting still in the gurney. The weathered doctor, with her graying hair and slightly wrinkled skin, had seen these giant super-soldiers walk around her station for some time. It bothered her that they all looked so young, but she could see their determined and valorous looks in their eyes, a fire burning for victory. She could not help but be reassured by their glares.
This one, though. She saw none of that.
All she saw was a young man, scared, saddened, and unsure of everything. It brought back memories of the children she treated on Eridanus II and Harvest during her days working in a local clinic. She wanted to do more than check for wounds and treat them, but it was not her place to do anything more. The best she could do was make him a little comfortable. 
She approached the Spartan, who was still hanging his head and staring at the steel floor tiles, avoiding eye contact. “I’m Doctor Chandler.” said the doctor in a soft voice, her Londonian accent slipping in. 
“We’re just going to run through a quick examination, check for injuries, and you’ll be on your way.” She snapped her fingers, as one of the doctors handed her some gauss and an alcohol swab. She tilted Delsin’s head up, as she began to wipe the cuts on his dirty face. He winced a bit, but remained calm as she cleaned him up.
“Delsin, is it? Do you feel any discomfort? Anything hurting?” Delsin finally looked into the Doctor’s soft eyes, but his eyes then darted up to the ceiling to avoid making contact with them.
“My head hurts, and I think I messed up my right shoulder. Mostly, I’m just tired”, Delsin responded. Upon hearing this, Doctor Chandler stepped back as she returned to her table, examining the Spartan before her.
“Well, I’ll run some IMPACT tests and take a look at your shoulder. We need to get the rest of your armor off, so we can properly examine you. Then, you can go get some rest. Just from observation, you desperately ne—"
Loud thumps and banging could be heard outside the steel door that sealed the medical bay. The doctor looked at her assistants, who looked also confused as to who was causing a racket at the doorway.
“Jansen, go open the door and see who it is. Tell them I’m busy with a patient.’
The metal doors slid open, revealing a green, armored-clad but helmetless woman with an excited spark in her eyes. She quickly scanned the bay before her eyes met Delsin’s, as she saw a figure sitting on a gurney in the familiar-looking SPI armor she used to wear.
“Spartan, what do you need, I’m busy with a patient—,“ stated Doctor Chandler.
Taking a step forward and the doctor's words falling away from her, the shorthaired Spartan gets a better look at Delsin’s face, looking past the dirt and cut-up face. She recognized his eyes and she nearly gasped. Delsin, still trying to figure out who was eyeing him, notices a smile starts creeping across her face. 
He did not understand what was happening, and began to get nervous, as she drifted closer and closer to him.
Suddenly, she sprinted towards him and wrapped her arms around Delsin as she hugged him tightly. Delsin could feel his right arm go into sudden pain as he winced a bit. She nearly tackled him off the gurney, if it was not for that fact that Delsin gripped the nearby handle with his left hand to prevent his fall. 
Delsin, looking over the woman’s shoulder, noticed a black armored figure resting on the doorway, arms crossed and also sizing him up. He was a blonde-haired Spartan and did not seem as eager to greet him as the other Spartan that was still squeezing him to death right now.
The woman pulled back a bit to get face to face with Delsin. Looking at her bright, brown eyes and recognizing her short cut, Delsin realized who was squeezing the life out of him.
“Giu--, Giulia?” Delsin stammered.
“Delsin! You remember me!” replied Giulia as her voice went up an octave in excitement.
“I’m shocked you even remember me,” Delsin softly responded as he struggled to wiggle some comfort from her tight grip.
Giulia noticed his face wincing in pain, and realized that she was hurting him with her embrace. She let go immediately and took a step back from the gurney, getting a better look at Delsin. 
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt—“
“It's fine, Giulia. I’m just glad to see you’re doing OK.”
Giulia, looking relieved and elated, looked at Delsin’s face, getting a better view of his tired, bruised face.
“I thought you were, ya know, dead after what happened with TORPEDO. I thought it was just Tom and Lucy. I figured you were among the KIA cause you weren’t sele-”
“Wait, others survived?”
“Tom, Lucy, maybe a few others, and now you, as far as I know.” Giulia softly replied. 
Delsin, sitting upright now and stretching his neck, got good look at Giulia, now donning an armored suit far more advanced than his SPI and kitted out to the nines. Delsin's gaze met Giulia's, as she looked joyful seeing him, feeling her excitement bursting out of her smile. 
“Look at you, moving up in ranks," Delsin noted, trying to keep a light tone. "I wish I got gear like that. I guess it isn’t surprising that you turned out to be quite the badass.”
Giulia looked down at her armor with pride, but as soon as she looked back to Delsin, she finally noticed the darkened circles around his eyes and a forced smile that was stamped on his face. He looked tired, dejected and anxious, and, in turn, Giulia felt concerned at the sight of her old friend.
“Del, are you OK? Look, I can tell you have been through a lot. I can’t imagine what you went through on Pegasi Delta.”
Delsin went quiet as he stared back down the floor, avoiding Giulia’s gaze. The memories of him running from the battle as his brethren pleaded for help. He could not find the words as he tried to speak, or maybe he didn’t want to.
Ryne, who was still watching from the doorway, noticed the Spartan’s body language and how pathetic he looked, as this Spartan remained quiet in response to Giulia’s question. “Wonder why he's not answering her?” thought Ryne, the gears in his head going to work in his head.
Giulia got closer to Delsin, carefully placing her hand on his shoulder.
“Del, it’s okay. You can talk whe---“
“Enough. Giulia, the briefing is about to start and we need to get going. We don’t need to be wasting time with him,” Ryne coldly yelled as he rudely interrupted the moment. Giulia returned a piercing, annoyed glare towards Ryne, but she quickly realized he was right and that they needed to get going. Giulia turned back to Delsin, who was still hanging his head. 
“I’ll catch you later, Delsin. We’ll talk, OK?” said Giulia as she gently hugged Delsin again before heading out the medbay.
Giulia quickly brushed past Ryne, ignoring the smug look on his face, and to avoid the temptation of knocking it clean off. Ryne followed her, as he took one last look at Delsin, who raised his head to watch them both leave. "What a waste of oxygen," Ryne muttered under his breath as he walked off into the steel hall. 
Doctor Chandler, who was quietly watching the whole interaction, moved towards Delsin.
“It’s nice to see you have friends.”
“Sure,” replied softly a crestfallen Delsin. Doctor Chandler motioned for her assistants to begin removing pieces of Delsin’s SPI armor, and they began to take each piece, one by one.
Delsin was not sure whether to feel relief or shame when the pieces started coming off.
Delsin, wearing some borrowed Marine fatigues to wear during his stay, sat on his bunk bed and stared at the wall in front him. A tennis ball gripped in his hand, Delsin was contemplating whether to start bouncing it off the wall again or just go to sleep and let the day pass him by.
The Spartan was slowly losing his mind as the days wore on since his arrival on Benning Station. Delsin was confined to this shoebox-of-a-dorm, which was normally in use by other personnel, but was specifically set-up for him. Two MPs were just outside the door, and whenever he left to go get something for mess or just use the bathroom, they followed him and were attentive to everything he did.
It was clear that he was more of a prisoner rather than a guest, just like his first weeks on Curdan’s Keep.
“What do they call it, Deja Vu?”
Suddenly, the door slid open and in came a redheaded woman, wearing a gray jacket over her fatigues and a data pad tucked in her left arm, and took a seat on the bunk on opposite of him. She shot him a friendly smile.
“A red-head, really?”
He did not need another reminder of Red, as Delsin already sees him and the rest of his old team in his restless nights. Now, it seemed as if some divine power was just tormenting him with all these reminders of his pain and failures.
“Something wrong, Spartan?” said the red-haired woman as she noticed Delsin staring blankly at her. 
“Nothing, what do you need?” retorted Delsin, as he sat straighter, trying to look less tired.
The woman looked at her data pad, her finger swiping until reaching the desired screen. Delsin carefully watched her, trying to get a bead on her.
“I’m Lieutenant Junior Grade Liberatore, Naval Intelligence. It’s nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you around the station.”
Delsin rolled his eyes, realizing what this visit’s purpose was. “Let me guess, you’re here to ask me about Pegasi Delta and what happened. I already told your people what happened to the other suits that asked me.”
“Yes, you said you got injured, missed the battle, and got to the Prowler to escape the system. Then, you said that you got rescued by some flotilla and fought alongside some militia when the Covies came knocking at the planet you were on”
Karina stood up and crossed her arms, and her friendly face turned somber.
“However, I know its bullshit.”
Delsin showed confusion at this statement. Before he could utter another word, Karina stopped him as she raised his hand.
“You got hurt as you claimed, and missed the whole battle because of it. However, the injuries you have are days or weeks old, not months, meaning those injuries were from the battle on that jungle colony, not Pegasi Delta. Not to mention, your drop pod landed within the blast zone when that refinery blew up. So, you should be dead right now. There is also that recording of you and Giulia in the medbay that I saw, sounding like you were about to tell her a different story.”
Delsin started to breathe a little faster and his chest felt tighter, as he realized that Ms. Naval Intelligence had poked holes in his already-shoddy story. She knew it was bullshit, and this Lieutenant was staring into his soul, trying to get him to spit out the truth.
“So, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, realizing that lying even more was not going to help him at all, Delsin looked Liberatore dead in her eyes, and began his recounting of what happened on that red, dirt planet.
“My drop pod actually got knocked off course. Woke up to a Covenant patrol firing on me. I took them out, and ran to the objective site looking for my team. Heard gunfire, explosions, and I ran to it. I saw…”
Delsin trailed off a bit, as he recalled the sights behemoth Covenant ships and hordes of warriors bearing down on the Spartans.
“Saw what, Spartan?”
Delsin refocused as he started to feel his emotions starting to get the better of him.
“Beta was being slaughtered, ma’am," Delsin continued. “I got to the battle, but Seraphs and Elites had me pinned. Three Spartans saved my ass, two from my fireteam”.
Memories of Red and Eris started to flood in, and tears began to well in Delsin’s eyes. He could see them under intense fire and hear their screams for him to help.“We, uh, we were going to try to push up to join the rest of the company, or what was left of it. Me and a friend got blasted by a Banshee bomb, and I woke up and… I, uh, I completely froze up.”
Silence occupied the room for a few seconds before Delsin started talking again.
“They called for me to help, and I…”
Delsin could not hold back the stream of tears, as he slid down on his face onto the cold floor below.
“I ran. I fucking ran, instead. I could hear them still calling for me as I climbed over the slope away from the battle. I got to the prowler. I thought about going back or at least waiting for them, but they already blew up the factory and themselves just as I reached the Black Cat.” 
Delsin dropped eye contact, looking away at Liberatore, as he began to wipe tears.
“The rebel flotilla found me a couple days later, floating in space. I was their prisoner, since they were not exactly sympathetic to the UNSC for good reason, but I earned their trust. They decided to let me go, but I chose to stay.”
“You care about them,” Liberatore said plainly.
“I guess, yeah,” Delsin softly responded.
“Then, the Covenant came. We sent out a signal, telling you about me and lying about having actionable intel. We got the settlers out, and started to buy time for the militia to escape before the ODSTs showed up. We held them off, escaped, and now I’m here, at your mercy, recounting all this crap, happy?”
Delsin, still turned away from Liberatore, finishing wiping his eyes before clasping his hands into his face.
“What now?” asked Delsin with his face still buried.
“Well, normally, two things could happen. You’re likely jailed for desertion and aiding rebels, or you get sent back to Onyx to be a drill instructor for the incoming Spartan companies, and you will probably never see combat again in any meaningful way.”
Resigned to his fate, Delsin looked up to see Liberatore, but noticed something in her eyes. They were strangely sympathetic and calming, something he did not expect after her cold answer about what was to come.
“However, there is another path. Officially, you’re MIA, aka you’re dead, in an official capacity, and, considering your story, ONI would like to keep it that way. Last thing we need is a story of a cowardly Spartan, and wreck whatever semblance of morale we have left. Not to mention, as you have shown on Curdan’s Keep, you have untapped potential, even if you, yourself, do not believe that. After reading the testimonies of some militia fighters, civilians, and the after-action report of Sergeant Contreras, a trusted friend of mine, I found that there is something in you that cannot be wasted on training the next batch of suicide orphans.”
Delsin, shocked at what he was hearing, leaned forward as he tried to figure out her angle.
“But I left them behind, I’m a coward”.
Karina crouched down, meeting Delsin at eye level.
“You are a scared kid that was thrown into the deep end with no regard from your superiors. Colonel Ackerson is a prick who thinks chucking orphans at the spikes is going to win this mess-of-a-war. The incompetent asshole wasted valuable resources and potential throwing you Spartans into suicide missions that accomplish little other than buying us a couple of weeks.”
Karina reached out and softly placed her hand on Delsin’s shoulder.
“I’ve got something else in mind for you. A chance. A chance for you to be the best version of yourself. A chance at redemption. I believe in your abilities and your spirit, and I’ll be damned if that is wasted because some asshole is incompetent at his job.”
Delsin, still reeling from Liberatore’s confidence in him, looked into her eyes and could see she meant every word she said to him. Wiping the last of his tears off his cheeks, Delsin’s eyes suddenly blazed with determination and enthusiasm. He felt a rush of excitement and intensity wash over his mind, realizing that he was given a chance that he never thought he would get, a chance he does not deserve, a chance he won’t waste.
“Well, what do you have in mind, ma’am?” asked Delsin with some confidence dripping from his tone.
Liberatore smiled, happy the Spartan accepted without a second thought.
“The Asymmetrical Action Group, or the Group as some call it, is an unconventional special warfare group, specifically formed to fight the Covenant on their turf. It was mostly just special forces veterans, like ODSTs, Rangers, and Raiders, but they are now recruiting Spartans in the Group. I pulled some strings and got your record amd actions on Curdam's Keep in front of the right people. The Beta-5 officers were impressed with your actions on Curdan's, and they think that you would fit right in with them. Can't say I disagree.”
“They want you to be a part of three-man Spartan strike team. This is your shot, Del. A shot at redemption....So, you in?" Karina asked.
Delsin looked at Karina, his eyes still focused on Karina as he listened closely.
"Do you even gotta ask?"
In the rush of engineers and Marines moving around the banger and Pelicans being inspected and maintained, two armored figures, one in black and one in green, exited a recently docked Pelican, as they approached a nearby table. Ryne slid his rifle off his back and placed it on the table, with Giulia doing the same with her submachine gun and pair of pistols. A Marine gathered the weapons and handed them off to another who carefully began to inspect and place them in the weapons case. “I take it the Covies had a bad day, huh? We’ll get these to Eric for him to check out”, said the female Marine, sitting at the table in her casual fatigues.
The Spartans then cut through the docking bay like a knife through butter, smoothly navigating the traffic in front of them. Giulia was walking ahead of Ryne, and looked clearly in a rush to get somewhere, while Ryne paid little mind but the elevator in front of them.
“Yankee 2-9, pre-flight check is a go. Lieutenant Thatcher, please report to the docking bay,” came the male voice from the station’s PA system.
Boarding the elevator, the two Spartans were greeted by a station engineer, waiting to get them to their destination.
“Third level,” Ryne sharply ordered.
As the elevator slowly moved up the station, Ryne could not help but notice Giulia’s incessant foot tapping and her fingers fidgeting. It was lucky that Ryne was still wearing his helmet, as it hid his annoyed look, since he knew that Giulia had not stopped thinking about that broken-down Spartan sitting in the med bay. Ryne figured Giulia knew him, as he noticed she was distracted during the op. Even while fighting Elite Rangers in Zero-G combat in the corridors of a Covenant orbital station, Giulia seemed distracted. With the elevator stopping at the third level, the metal doors slid open and, in the white hallway, the all-too-familiar red-hair of Lieutenant Karina Liberatore, wearing her signature grey sweat jacket and gray, military cargo pants, appeared right in front of them, patiently waiting for their arrival. “Ma’am?” both Spartans said in unison, with a mix of confusion and surprise.
“Welcome back, I take it that the hinge-head and that Covie space station are no longer a problem?” asked Liberatore.
“The split-jaw’s corpse is currently frozen in the vacuum of space and the station is no longer an issue ma’am,” replied Ryne with an air of arrogance in his voice.
Giulia immediately chimed in. “Ma’am, can the debrief wait a bit? I want to go meet someone first.” Ryne tilted his head back in frustration, quietly groaning.
“I think I know who you’re referring to,” Karina said. “Unfortunately, he is not here anymore. Delsin left the station a couple of days after you got deployed on your mission.”
“Shame. I hope his new injuries don't hinder his new job as a flunkie drill sergeant,” said Ryne in a sarcastic tone.
Ryne then noticed Giulia slightly turned to him, her visor staring into his. Ryne could feel the fierce eyes of Giulia pierce through her helmet, and, witnessing what a pissed off Giulia looked like a couple months back when she broke an hinge-heads body into a million pieces after it sliced her prized shotgun, realized it was time to find his exit. “I’ll meet you at the command center, ma’am,” Ryne stated as he began to walk away from the two.
“Actually, I’m not here for your debrief,” Karina quickly replied. “In fact, I’ve got some news for you two. I’m no longer you’re handler, as I’m going back in the field. There's more. After assessing your performance as a duo, the Asymmetrical Action Group has decided to add another Spartan to your ranks.”
“Wait, what?” Ryne blurted out in confusion.
"AAG feels that, as good as you two are as a two-man crew, that more manpower is needed for you in the coming missions, as they will be far more dangerous and ambitious," Karina responded.
Hearing all this, Ryne stopped in his tracks and moved back to his original spot next to his Headhunter partner, whilst Giulia kept her attention on Liberatore. The Lieutenant could see the Spartans were wrestling with this new development, their expressions mixed with shock, confusion, and excitement. The next piece of info was definitely going to send both for a twirl. 
“Spartan-Bee-Two-Four-Zero, Delsin, who currently is on his way to Reach for "reorientation and retraining", is also joining the Asymmetrical Action Group, and he will be the newest member of your three-man fireteam when he returns from Reach. It shouldn't be a long wait, a month at worst. Meanwhile, you two are getting outfitted with some nifty upgrades to your MJOLNIR Mark V armor made for AAG Spartans, you'll test it out while you wait for Delsin."
Karina could see Ryne was getting progressively upset at the news of Delsin's inclusion, but he was more tempered now, especially since Karina made it clear she wouldn't tolerate his tantrums, and has already put him in his place a few times already. Still, Ryne's eyes were still fiercely angry. 
"Whatever," thought the ONI Lieutenant. "He's the new guy's problem now."
Both Spartans glanced at each other, before turning back to see Karina was already moving between them as she made her towards the elevator behind them.
“Congrats, you three are now Fireteam Disciple of the AAG. Dorsett is waiting for you to do his debrief at the conference room. Right now, I'm off for my new field assignment,” said Karina as she walked off out of the hallway and into the elevator. "Hold on, wait a minute," Giulia quickly snapped. Karina stopped the elevator doors from shutting to hear her former pupil out. "You still owe me a rematch, Lieutenant! Our record is dead even, one and one. We have to settle our score!" 
Karina scoffed. 
The Lieutenant realized Giulia was still yearning for another sparring match with her, especially since Karina got the upper-hand over her last time, with a swift hook that knocked the Beta Company Spartan silly. She should've known Giulia's competitive nature wasn't going to let that loss slide. "I haven't forgotten. When the war is over, we'll settle our score," Karina playfully responded. "Just don't be mad if the result is still the same." Giulia gave a confident smirk, an expression she learned and mimicked from both Ryne and Karina. "Don't be so sure, Lieutenant," Giulia blurted back.
Karina removed her hands to let the sliding doors close. "I'll see you down range, Spartans." Those were Karina's last words as the doors slid shut in front of Ryne and Giulia.
Giulia and Ryne turned to each other, both wearing differing expressions on their faces. Giulia, with a beaming smile and excited eyes, looked into Ryne's annoyed, and dour face. Giuilia playfully punched Ryne's chest, trying to get him excited. "I can't wait for you to meet Del, Ryno! You two will hit it off, I know it!" Giulia walked off, strolling off to the conference room for the debrief. Ryne watched her walk off in front of him, his scowl still present on his face. He recalled that Spartan's scared and broken expression in the med-bay. It wasn't the face of a Spartan, it was the face of someone who was too ashamed to be one.
"Yeah, somehow I doubt it," Ryne softly muttered, as he trudged down the brightly-lit steel corridors.
==Part IV: Dire Straits==
===Chapter 16===
In the darkened bay of a Pelican dropship, flying through space, a Spartan, clad in armor colored in the combination of black and blue, was staring at his gloves. He turned his hands over to inspect his new armor, squeezing them into fists to get a good feel. The Spartan then looked to his helmet sitting next to him, a silver visor slightly covered by the up-armored brim. The Mark IV, Variant B, is what they called his new armored assault suit, something he got towards the end of his training on Earth. 
“Feels..feels weird to be honest.”
Delsin grabbed his helmet, inspecting the pristine condition and admiring the excellent design work, before placing it back next to him.
For the last few weeks, Delsin was on Reach, undergoing intense, specialized training at an ONI Ordnance Testing Facility in the Highland Mountains, undergoing stressful combat exercises and physical training to put him in condition. He was also given the latest in weapons and hardware to test out during his final days of training. Unlike his days on Onyx, Delsin was training with other experienced special warfare operators that had also joined the Asymmetrical Action Group. He was supposed to stay longer, but the war wasn’t going to wait on him it seemed. The training was tough and made his time on Onyx seem like child’s play on some occasions. 
However, Liberatore had offered Delsin the biggest second chance of his life, and the Spartan was not going to waste it. Delsin thought back to his training, prideful on how much he learned and how much he improved. 
Now, he was about to meet his new fireteam, his new family. 
“I don’t deserve to be here, I know that. I failed Romeo, I failed Beta, and I’m a fraud underneath all this armor,” Delsin thought, the memories of Pegasi Delta flooding his mind, seeing Erie’s dying eyes peering through her broken visor, and the scattered corpses of his brothers and sisters he ran past as he fled the battle. 
“I’m a coward, but a coward that has a second chance, and I’m not going to waste it.” 
He was now going to be teaming with Giulia, someone who was out there fighting the Covenant and was ten times that soldier than he ever was. Delsin promised himself he was not going to let her down like he let Romeo down, whatever the cost.
Suddenly, his COM crackled alive, as the pilot’s calm, but assertive voice came over from the cockpit.
“ETA is five minutes to Arcturus Station, Spartan.”
“Roger that,” responded Delsin, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The nervous Spartan grabbed his helmet, giving it one last look before standing up and waiting by the bay doors. Delsin cranked his neck and took a deep breath.
***
In the grimy, drab steel canyon of a hangar, deckhands scuttle about as they inspect and repair Pelican dropships and S-14 strike fighters that rested across the steel floor of the bay. Sparks from welding tools could be seen from makeshift workbenches scattered about, and the sounds of industrial rivet guns echoed the hanger. However, floating silently just outside in the vacuum of space, a Razor-class prowler, wearing a silver and gray coating, was resting in space, looming just outside of Arcturus Station’s hangar bay. Large, bold white letters were scrawled across the port of the starship, which read “ZERO POINT” across the side.
On an elevated deck overlooking the whole bay, a pair of Spartans observed the space beyond the energy shielding that separated them from the vacuum of space, watching the Prowler float outside the station. 
“He should be here any minute now,” Giulia gleefully remarked, her excited, green eyes focused on the hangar entrance. The giddy Spartan was fully suited up in her recently-issued Mark IV, B-Variant armor, gripping her pristine CQC helmet tightly as she watched the space outside with child-like anticipation. 
Wearing his own blacked-out Mark IV armor as he also held his OPERATOR helmet by his side, Ryne looked over at his overly-animated teammate next to him, rolling his eyes at the enthusiastic expression on her face.
“Will you relax? He’s a Spartan, not a puppy,” Ryne chastised.
Giulia ignored his comment. She wasn’t going to let him ruin this moment for her, seeing an old friend, once thought dead, now about to fight alongside her. 
Suddenly, a Pelican dropship poked under the Prowler, flying below the hull as it made its way to the station’s energy barrier. As the ship lowered and deployed the landing gears, Giulia quickly leaped off the deck, landing on a stack of crates with a loud thud, scaring two nearby deckhands that were conversing casually. 
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Giulia apologized, running past the startled deckhands.
Ryne looked below, shaking his head, as he bounced off the railing and walked to the service elevator nearby that would take him down to the bay.
Giulia ran up to the descending Pelican, as the dropship’s landing gently touched down. She watched as the Pelican’s bay door slid open and a ramp flipped down. From the darkened edges, a blue-armored figure walked out and down the ramp, his helmetless head revealing a young man with a tan complexion and a quaffed hairstyle with the sides shaved.
Delsin’s eyes met Giulia’s, and gave her long-time Beta Company comrade a meek wave of “hello” as he touched on the steel floor of the bay. Giulia walked right up to Delsin, but stopped short from hugging him. She carefully studied his MJOLNIR Mark IV [B] armor, taking note of the dark blue color that encompassed his entire suit and clear-blue visor staring back at her.
“The blue suits you, really brings out your eyes,” Giulia joked, playfully punching his chest. “Well, I guess you’re now a badass, too. It’s good to see ya, Del. Welcome to the team.”
Giulia stuck her hand out. As Delsin grabbed her hand to shake, Giulia pulled him in for a quick one-armed hug, catching Delsin off-guard as he felt her arm squeeze hun around his side, just like in the medbay back then.
“How was the ride, Del?” asked Giulia, as she pulled back.
“Peaceful, ma'am,” replied Delsin.
“Well, tha- wait, ma’am?!” Giulia chortled, clearly taken aback by the formal nature of Delsin’s first words to her in years. Delsin could see Giulia was perplexed by his response, her facial expression showing surprise and confusion. “Well, I was told you were taking the reins as team leader, ma’am. So, that makes you my CO, ma’am.”
Giulia held back a giggle, which only confused Delsin, wondering what she found so funny about his address to her.
“Well, as your CO, I’m ordering you to cut that shit now. First, it makes me sound old, which I’m not! Secondly, how long have we known each other? Just call me by name, Del. It’s fine.”
Delsin shrugged his shoulders, shooting a slight smile back at Giulia. “Whatever you say, Giulia,” Delsin obeyed. 
“She hasn’t changed much,” Delsin thought to himself, seeing the wide, cheerful smile when they first met at Curahee still etched on her face Over his shoulder, Delsin could see a black armored figure slowly approaching from behind. Delsin got a good look at the blonde, messy hair and stoic face of his new Alpha Company teammate. 
“That must be Ryne.”
Delsin walked past Giulia, whose joyous face became nervous as she watched Delsin and Ryne walk towards each other. “I don’t think we properly met. The name’s Delsin, nice to meet you,” Delsin greeted, sticking his free hand out for a handshake.
Ryne looked down at the hand stuck out to him, before looking back up. Giulia was dreading what was coming, cringing as she could see Ryne’s unimpressed expression scrawled across his stone face.
“C’mon, don’t do this, Ry. Please..”
Ryne stared at Delsin for a few seconds,seeing slight smile disappear as the seconds ticked by, and ignored his handshake as he turned his back on him
“I’ll see you both at the briefing room, don’t keep me and the Lieutenant Commander waiting,” Ryne coldly stated as he walked off, disappearing from view as he walked through the growing crowd of dechands and Marines that were slowly flooding the hangar bay.
Delsin, with a look mixed with confusion and concern, looked back at Giulia, whose shoulders slumped in resignation, and he could see her pinching the bridge of her nose as she gritted her teeth.
“Uhh, did I do something wrong?”
Surrounding a large, circular holotable in darkened metal room with holo screens around them, Ryne, Giulia, and Delsin, holding their helmets close to their sides, stood silently within a dimly lit room, as they awaited for the Prowler’s Captain and their newest handler from the AAG to walk in and meet them for the briefing on their upcoming mission.
Delsin slightly looked to his left, seeing the serious and intense looks on Ryne’s and Giulia’s faces, eyes forward and slight frowns worn on their faces. He could tell that these two knew the deal. 
“Of course they know the score, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Delsin was keenly aware of Ryne’s and Giulia’s experience, when he was first briefed on his new teammates back on Reach, just before he left for Arcturus Station. Just reading their CSVs made Delsin feel even more of a pretender than he already was. Giulia and Ryne had been facing down and fighting the Covenant all by themselves, while all he did was “survive” Pegasi Delta.
“The past is the past,” Delsin thought, fighting the anxiety rising in him. “I’ve got a chance to prove I belong at their side, and I’m going to, even if it costs me my life.”
Both Giulia and Ryne, sensing Delsin’s gaze on them, shifted their eyes towards their newest teammate. Delsin quickly looked away, as he tried to keep his calm in front of his team leader and the veteran Spartan. Both Spartans noticed Delsin’s nervous expression on his face, seeing the anxious eyes shift around and him slightly biting his lip.
Giulia placed her gloved hand on Delsin's armored shoulder, shooting him a reassuring smile as Delsin turned to her. Delsin softly smirked, as he began to control his breathing better.
Ryne just rolled his eyes, as he returned his gaze to a screen in front of him. Suddenly, the metal doors behind the trio slid open, and two naval officer’s, one male and the other female, strut right through the open doorway.
The Spartans stood quickly at attention, keeping their eyes forward as the two naval officers marched to the other side of the holo-table. Suddenly, the Holotank lit up, with a short-haired blonde woman, donning a 19th century dark-blue military coat with a white belt, and dark pants with thin red lines riding down. She had fancy, dark boots and a sword sheathed at her waist. She looked at the Spartans, wearing a stern look on her face.
“Must be the ship’s AI,” Ryne thought, gazing upon the ancient warrior.
“At ease, Spartans,” ordered the male officer in soft voice, likely in his mid forties or early fifties, a friendly smile ran across his tan and a clean-cut face. “I’m Captain Asad , and here is Eleonore, our shipboard AI for Zero Point. My Prowler will take you on your missions in deep space, and we are stocked with whatever weapons, equipment you need to get the job done. My crew and I will support you in whatever way we are capable. We also have a small contingent of operators from the Special Warfare Support Group on loan to the AAG, as they will assist you three in whatever needs arise in the field. First Lieutenant Brücker is in charge, so go see him when you get the chance.”
“Hmph, so this is Disciple team. I must say, for Spartans, they don’t leave much of an impression. I hope you three are more than meets the eye,” Eleonore observed, unveiling her posh, commanding voice. 
Suddenly, the woman in her gray naval uniform stepped forward from the shadows behind Asad, the dim lights now shining on her. The woman looked younger, late twenties to early thirties, short, wavy brown hair and dark, brown eyes. Unlike the more laid-back Captain, this woman wore a deadly serious look on her face.
“Lieutenant Harlow. ONI Special Operations officer and your new AAG mission handler for this op,” the Lieutenant bluntly stated. “I am going to be monitoring and directing orders to you three, and providing briefings. I’m also charged with tasking you with whatever objectives I come across in the field, and assigning you to whatever missions I see fit. In other words, you three answer to me. We do this for a few weeks, maybe months, and return to friendly lines to refuel the Prowler and resupply. Then, we do this all over again. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” said the three Spartans in unison. The ONI operative observed the trio of Spartans, as they remained stone-faced in their expressions. She wasn’t impressed, especially when she glanced at their dossiers before getting here.
‘I want to make a few things perfectly clear with you three,” Harlow continued, her voice now shifting into a harsher tone. “I expect you three to perform well beyond your expectations. I have only ever worked with professionals and veteran warfighters, and now I’m forced to guide three, so-called supersoldiers that act like brats. “Yeah, that’s right, I’ve seen your behavioral profiles. Only one of you has any extensive experience, and I’m not that impressed by what that dossier says about said experience.”
Ryne slightly gritted his teeth, the backhanded “compliment” successfully getting underneath his skin. 
“You Spartans are supposed to be Humanity’s only hope for survival,” Harlow continued her rant. Suddenly, the holo screens popped up with images showing scenes of the ongoing war with the Covenant. Shots of Covenant starships glassing the surface of worlds, fleeing and terrified civilians rushing cargo transports, and bodybags of UNSC troopers lined up flooded the screens.
“In case you three haven’t noticed, we have lost planet after planet, thousands of lives are being extinguished every week, and they inch closer to Earth’s doorstep. The AAG has only allowed the best of the best in their ranks, but now, we’re forced to allow you three, unworthy freaks of nature in because we’re losing more operators than we can muster.”
The room became uncomfortable, as the Spartans did their best to hide their upset emotions as they were being dressed down. Delsin eyes conveyed shame and embarrassment, while Giulia and Ryne were both slightly biting the inside of the cheeks to hide their anger. Captain Asad‘s face showed disapproval on what was being said, but kept quiet.
“I’m not your friend, I’m not here to get to know you. I’m here to direct you on where to kill Covenant and to wreck their operations. I don’t care what happens to you, as long as you get the mission done. Now, any questions?”
Ryne piped up, not intimidated by Harlow. “Lieutenant, how will our missions be determined? We were left the impression we would independently be going after objectives that we deemed fit.”
“That is still the case, A-Zero-Six-Four,” Harlow responded plainly. “You just have to run it by me, and I’ll determine whether it’s a waste of time or resources or not. Are you going to throw a bitch-fit whenever I say no, Zero-Six-Four?”
“No, Lieutenant,” Ryne sharply responded. Ryne bit harder on his lip, trying to fight the urge to talk back at Harlow. Giulia snickered lightly, taking pleasure at Ryne’s plain discomfort over the remark by the ONI officer. Harlow noticed there snicker.
“Oh, you’re in for it,” Eleonore said, her face still wearing a serious expression, as Captain Asad grimaced, knowing what was about to happen.
“Bee-Two-Five-Five, I’m glad you find it all amusing. It’s nice to find joy as humanity crumbles and hurdles towards extinction, isn’t it?” Harlow asked. Giulia fixed herself quickly, returning to an emotionless expression. “No, Lieutenant,” Giulia hastily responded. 
“Really? Because grapple-fucking with Elites and Brutes seems to be all you care about about in the field, instead of getting the job done efficiently. Luck is the only reason you got to where you are now. All that talent wasted on a girl who still thinks this is all a fuckin’ game.”
Both Spartans hushed, as they remained at ease trying to keep their composure. Delsin could see from the corner of his eyes that Giulia’s and Ryne’s expressions on their faces were fighting some urge to say something.
“Anything, you want to add, Bee-Two-Four-Zero?” Harlow asked.
“No, Lieutenant,” Delsin meekly responded. Harlow nodded her head. “Don’t know how you got in here, Spartan. I can understand these two here, but you? Oh boy, all I see on your record is mediocrity. You probably should’ve had the good sense to stay in whatever hole you crawled out of. Don’t know what Liberatore and AAG saw in you.” Harlow turned around to a digital panel, swiping and pressing on a screen. 
Delsin’s blank expression remained, unbothered by the insults. Same couldn’t be said for Giulia, with a fist clenched and slightly shaking, clearly upset at the remarks at her Beta Company brother. Taking notice, Delsin slightly nudged her shoulder, getting her attention. Delsin nodded to Giulia, to which Giulia responded with a nod of her own. She quickly calmed down, taking a breath, and unclenched her fist.
“Eleonore, bring up the images.”
Eleonore snapped her white-gloved fingers, and images of mountains and dense forests and Covenant cruisers hovering over said geographical sites popped on the screens behind. “When you three wake up from cryosleep a couple weeks from now, this is where our first mission is,” Harlow remarked as she turned to face the Spartans again. 
“What you are seeing right now is the lovely planet of Akila, an abandoned frontier colony that is now occupied by the Covenant. Instead of glassing this rock, it seems that Covenant bastards have decided to turn this world into a fortress world of some kind. Our recon drones have found these small manufacturing facilities being built and constructed across the planet’s surface, creating materials for their armor and artillery.”
Still digital images of large, purple structures resting on the rugged, mountainous terrain, where the familiar visages of Wraiths and Seraphs can be seen on the ground, as Sangheili and Unggoy examine and construct the unfinished vehicles. Purple crates of Covenant weaponry being carried out from the purple buildings to hovering Phantom by Sangheili and Unggoy could be seen. Scores of Phantom dropships can be seen carrying Ghosts and Wraiths under their hulls, flying them away from the planet as they head towards a Covenant cruiser floating just overhead.
Harlow paced back and forth, examining the holograms on the table. “As you can see, this planet is a logistical hub for the Covenant armada, and is part of the supply chain that allows them to resupply and rearm their warships with ease and speed. Your mission is to put as many as those facilities out of commission. We have datapads sitting on the table behind you, we have further intel on Covenant troop strength, areas of interest, and your extraction plan once you’ve accomplished your objectives. It’s a simple task, but it’s an important one, especially as this will be your first op together. So, do not fuck this up.”
Lieutenant Harlow gave one last, cold stare at the three, standing Spartans before walking away from the holotable. The Spartans’ collective eyes watched their new handler make her leave, strutting through the now-open doorway and disappearing from their view as the steel doors slid shut.
Captain Asad sighed, and looked back to the Spartans, still wearing an emotionless expression, but could tell from their eyes how they were really feeling about their new handler.
“Excuse her, Spartans. I know Harlow, she is a hard-ass, but you can trust her,” Asad assured, trying to ratchet the tension down as best he could. An awkward silence filled the room, as Asad lightly coughed with the Spartans still at ease. “You are dismissed now.”
The Spartans saluted and turned around, seeing a metal table where three datapads sat parallel to each other. The trio walked to the table and picked up the datapads, and began to examine the contents.
“Pffft, who crapped in her rations today, am I right?” Giulia softly said, trying to keep things light as she fiddled with her datapad. Delsin smirked at the remark, while Ryne kept his eyes on the screen of his datapad. “I thought Lieutenant Liberatore was a jerk, but man, this Harlow? What a, uh, b-word.”
“You can call her a bitch, Giulia. It’s not like she is around,” Ryne bluntly stated.
As Captain Asad made his way to the doorway out of the conference room on the station, he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he had in his left pant pocket. Reaching down and retrieving a small device, Asad turned and walked back to the Spartans.
“Bee-Two-Four-Zero,” Asad called out. Delsin turned quickly, putting down the tablet as he faced Asad. “I almost forgot, this came in from requisitions earlier. I believe this is yours?” Asad stuck out a closed hand, opening to reveal a small, silver portable device and a pair of wireless earbuds.
Delsin’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed the device and earbuds. “Thanks, Captain,” Delsin stated, as he shot a smile of gratitude at the Captain, which Asad happily reciprocated. Both turned away from each other, as the Asad walked out the room and Delsin returned to the table. As he made his way to the table, Delsin was still inspecting his device, which caught the attention of Giulia and Ryne, both looking over to see what Delsin had in his hand.
“What is that, Del?” Giulia asked, leaning over into Delsin’s space to get a better look. Delsin quickly shoved his hand into the hardcase on his thigh, letting the device and earbuds fall inside.
“Oh something for the trip, I’ll show you later.”
Giulia frowned and turned her focus back to the screen on her tablet, a little sad that a shy Delsin wasn’t just going to tell her what it was. Ryne also refocused on the datapad. As Delsin returned his focus to his datapad, he couldn’t help but slightly grin, happy that his package came through before they left.
Eleonore, still on the holotank, took one last look at the Spartans before she would snap back to the Zero Point’s bridge to help Captain Asad. The AI had studied these Spartans files, but seeing them “in person”, so to speak, was a far more telling experience.
“Godspeed Disciple.”
Eleonore disappeared from the holotank, as Ryne turned, thinking he heard another voice, and shrugged when he realized no one was there.
===Chapter 17===
Small fires crackled within a rocky mountain clearing, illuminating the purple canopies of the huts resting inside the clearing surrounded by deciduous trees and small boulders scattered along the small patches of shrubbery in the area. Indigo-colored crates, stocked with various Covenant weaponry, were scattered about the area, and the purple, defense barriers surrounding the camp site. Within said clearing, a gathering of Elites and Grunts, numbering around twenty to thirty Covenant soldiers, were roaming around the camp, their movements and demeanor showcasing their sluggish and tired state.
Pairs of shivering Grunts gathered around small campfires, trying to keep themselves warm from the nightchill. Meandering Elites, their blue armor glistened by the campfires, skulked around the camp, conversing with their brothers or preparing to take their sleep, after a long day of moving heavy equipment and materials and clearing up environmental hazards.
Like a lightning strike, a box-like, gray pod crashed down inside the camp, landing right on top of a campfire, the impact flinging the nearby Grunts into the air. The stunned Covenant warriors turned their focus on the crashed pod, as they rushed to retrieve their weapons and surround the gray box. A pair of Grunts slowly approached the pod, their plasma pistols at the ready. The door of the pod instantly expelled itself like a cannonball, crashing into the one of the Grunts. Before the other Unggoy warrior could react, a burst of bullets zipped through its skull.
Stepping out of the pod and firing his Battle rifle, a black-armored Spartan flew out of the pod, hitting precise head shots at a gaggle of Grunts and an unshielded Elites nearby. Plasma bolts grazed past him from behind, and the Spartan turned to find the source of fire. He spotted a few Grunts and Elites frantically firing their weapons, while other aliens retreated into huts and to crates to get their weapons. The Spartan aimed and fired his Battle rifle, letting off quick, successive shots at the targets before. The rounds crashed into the Grunts and the unshielded Elites nearby, their bodies falling like dominoes.
A pair of blue-armored Elites, armed with plasma rifles, emerged from a hut not far from the source of battle, and took notice of the black-armored demon cutting down their brothers and the Unggoy. The Elites began to walk forward, their plasma rifles at the ready. Within a few seconds, another drop pod crashed down behind them, catching the Elites off guard. Bursting from the pod when the door blasted off, a green-armored Spartan leaped out, firing off her silenced M7 submachine gun at the startled Elite Minors. With a hail of bullets ripping into their bodies, the Covenant warriors’ lifeless bodies fell to rocky ground, the Spartan walked over them.
The green-armored Spartan quickly reloaded a fresh magazine into her SMG, but not before an Elite from the shadows of a hut emerged and lunged at her with his energy blade from his wrist. The Spartan ducked under and, using the momentum of the Elite’s attempted strike, flipped him over onto the rocky ground. A quick burst from her SMG kept him there.
Both Spartans, noticing each other’s presence, slowly crept towards each other while firing off their weapons at the panicked Covenant warriors around the camp, meeting at the center of the camp, going back-to-back as they engaged the Covenant. “I thought the DZ was supposed to clear,” Giulia complained as she fired off her SMG bursts. “The Lieutenant told us that Drone recon showed no Covies near us.”
“Never rely on military intelligence, should’ve known that after the mission on BXR-92,” Ryne retorted as he dropped his empty mag from his Battle rifle to reload. “Besides, I’m not saying no to a chance at killing more Covenant.”
Ryne and Giulia continued to lay fire on the off-guard Covies, easily mowing them down as they tried to fight back or even retreat. Within minutes, after the last Elite gets dommed by Ryne’s rifle in a futile charge, the camp site fell silent, as the bodies of Elites and Grunts were scattered about the rocky lands. Both Spartans scanned the area, swinging their weapons around and patiently waiting for any more Covenant to pop out of the shadows. Minutes passed and the clearing fell deathly silent, with the only source of sound being crackling campfire and the whimpering howls from the night air.
“Clear”, Ryne blurted. Both Ryne and Giulia relaxed their stances, as they both took a brief respite. At the same time, both Spartans realized something as their visors locked into each other. “And Del?” Giulia asked, a tinge of worry in her voice. Ryne shrugged, more focused on checking his Battle rifle for any defects.
As Giulia began to look around, hoping to see her Beta Company comrade, and Ryne stood around, an Unggoy was peering over the hut, closely watching the two demons below. He readied a pair of plasma grenades, picking the the green-armored Spartan as his target as he was to dive over the Spartans and take them in a suicide blast. Activating the grenades, the Grunt emerged from the top of the hut, about to dive down with the blue balls of plasma in his hands. Both Ryne and Giulia were caught off-guard at the sudden appearance of the suicide Grunt, as they watched about to leap off the hut and soar to them.
“Die Demons!”
From a muffed burst, a hail of bullets struck the Grunt, pushing him back from his jump and tumbling back down the canopy of the hut, disappearing from view. A double explosion of plasma grenades went off from the rear of the hut, a safe distance away from the Ryne and Giulia.
Both Spartans turned to see who fired those shots, as a blue-armored figure, donning his Mark IV, B-Variant armor, emerged from the shadows of a treeline behind them. The Spartan quickly jogged up to him, his MA37 Assault Rifle in his hands.
“Well, look who finally showed up!” Giulia remarked jokingly, her visor masking a cheeky grin. 
“Yeah, my pod, uh, dropped a few meters back from the DZ, had to hoof it a bit,” Delsin nervously explained as he approached his two teammates. “Double time’d when I heard the, uh, ruckus you two were making.”
Ryne slightly glanced at the Blue-armored Spartan, before returning his gaze back at his weapon. The Operator helmet hid the pure disdain in his eyes, disappointed that his “teammate” actually made it. Now, he had to contend with this latest burden on his hands. In a flash, the static in the Spartans’ COMs sparked to life, as the Lieutenant Harlow’s shrill, angered voice broke through the interference.
“Disciple, do you read?” Harlow barked. “What the hell happened?”
“Disciple Actual, you dropped us into a Covenant camp, that’s what happened.” Ryne responded as he approached his pod, and yanked his SR sniper rifle from the rack in the pod. “Don’t worry, we handled it. We’re capable of doing our jobs.”
Giulia winced as that last sentence left Ryne’s mouth. After getting to know Ryne this past year, she was well-versed in his attitude, and easily spotted the veiled insult, and hoped that Disciple Actual wouldn’t notice.
“Copy that, hurry your asses to Objective Alpha. Don’t know if the Covenant patrols will find your mess or not.”
Giulia let out a slight sigh, relieved that Harlow didn’t catch Ryne’s disrespect. She dumped a mag out of her silenced SMG, slotted in a fresh one. “Alright, you heard her,” Giulia cooly stated. “Places to be, Covenant to kill, and crap to blow up.” Giulia began to march out of the camp, with Delsin and Ryne closely following behind her.
The three Spartans disappeared into the shadows, the crackling fire still illuminating the entire clearing and the scene of a one-sided battle.
Small flakes of snow dropped on the rocky mountains of Akila, the rugged terrain was slowly being covered with creeping snowfall. Nestled on the side of a snowy mountainside, small, circular partially-built purple buildings and huts could be seen nestled alongside small huts, as snow covered the top of these structures. There was also dozens and dozens of Sangheili, Kig-Yar, and Unggoy walking around the mountain side, a few of them gathered by bonfires, others just gazing out at the view of snow-covered mountain ranges before them, or walking in and out of rocky cave entrances, carrying purple crates and Covenant equipment. A pair of Covenant transport vehicles sat near the peak,, shaped like giant barrel-bodied cockroach with a bulbous head, stocked with crates that likely held weapons or equipment 
Several miles away, sitting on a nearby rocky hilltop, Ryne-A064 observed the scene through the scope of his SRS99-AM sniper rifle as he laid on his belly. He watched as the Covenant aliens carried material inside the cave entrances, and walked out with plasma batteries and small metal devices, placing them in purple crates that sat idly under nearby huts with purple canopies. The Spartan carefully watched the movements of the Covenant foot soldiers, fully unaware that they were being watched.
“Disciple Two, do you read me?” Harlow’s voice crackled over Ryne’s COM line.
“Copy, Disciple Actual.”
“Can’t reach Disciple One. Disciple Two, sitrep.”
“Providing overwatch over Objective Site Bravo, waiting on Disciple One and Three to get in position and commence action.”
“Copy, be quick. Our drones are showing that Covenant patrols are roaming around now after the mess you three made back at Objective Alpha.”
Ryne smirked, recalling the the dumbfounded, dying glares of the Elites, Jackals, and Grunts he blew away with his Sniper rifle, when Disciple assaulted a Covenant outpost in a rugged valley not too far from them. It was stocked with plasma batteries and a large cache of weapons to be shipped. Now, that entire vale was consumed by blue fire and littered with Covenant corpses.
A beautiful sight.
Ryne quickly snapped out of his recall, and continued to scan the mountain side. Giulia and that “deadweight” were supposed to be approaching the Covenant site, but he hadn’t spotted them yet. 
“Where are you two?”
Ryne looked through his scope, scanning frantically for his teammates, getting increasingly annoyed by the second. He couldn’t call them over the COM to get a status update, hoping to avoid detection by Covenant comms in the area. Ryne hated this waiting game, especially since he was seeing all these targets in his sights, hungering for fresh kills.
As his head swiveled around, the impatient Spartan spotted two figures trudging up the mountain side, recognizing the blue and green colored armor on the respective figures. Ryne, now a little relaxed, rolled his shoulder and his finger now ready on the trigger, picking out a lone Sangheili who had just strayed from a campsite nearby, unknowingly approaching Giulia and Delsin.
“Took them long enough.”
***
A blue-armored Sangheili walked to the edge of a rocky ridge, light snowfall around him. The Elite looked out to the horizon before him, admiring the mountains before him. It was a majestic sight to the warrior, putting himself at ease and at peace.
A bullet crashed into his head, as skull fragments and purple blood exploded from his head, The body fell over the edge, disappearing from view. Two pairs of hands reached and climbed over the rocky edge, as both Delsin and Giulia climbed over and took a second to observe the area before them. Giulia spotted a boulder nearby, turned to Delsin and flicked her fingers to the boulder, signaling to take cover behind it. Both Spartans quietly crouched and walked their way to cover, weapons trained on the obvious, ready to go loud if spotted. When they reached their source of cover, Giulia slightly peeked over to assess the obstacles before them.
On the mountainside, a few huts with indigo-colored canopies rested on the rugged terrain, and a few campfires were spotted that lit a path through the encampment. Purple crates were scattered about and both Spartan commandos could see a few lackadaisical Grunts, bored Jackals, and unsuspecting Elites strutting along, mostly unarmed and unprepared for an impromptu raid.
It was just the perfect hunting ground.
Giulia turned back to Delsin, nodding and motioning for him to get ready. She patched into her COM line, readying her blacked-out, silenced M7 SMG. “Disciple Two, cover us once we engage. Disciple Three, on your shot.”
Taking a deep breath, Delsin, with his assault rifle ready, moved past Giuila and out from behind the boulder. Now, out in the open, Delsin picked out a blue-armored Elite in front of him, his back to the Spartan as he was inspecting a crate of Covenant Carbines, and fired a muffled burst from his rifle. The bullets ripped into his back, and the alien slumped over the crate. A pair of Grunts from a nearby hut noticed the Elite’s body slumped over. Before they could react, Giulia fired small bursts into their collective skulls from her silenced SMG. 
The Spartans moved up, trudging up the mountainside as quickly and quietly as they could. A Jackal suddenly appeared from behind a purple recharge station along the pathway upwards, turning to see two Spartans approaching. A bullet zipped through its skull, as the Jackal’s head exploded in a purple mist. Delsin and Giulia looked back, staring at a distant rocky hill where Ryne was comfortably watching.
“Helluva shot,” Delsin remarked, turning to Giulia.
“Don’t tell him that, his ego is already big enough as it is,” Giulia snarked.
Both Spartans marched up the mountainside at deliberate pace, using the scattered huts, crates, recharge stations, and barriers to move from cover to cover. The Spartans dispatched the Covenant foot soldiers discreetly, their silenced weapons cutting them down while Ryne took down potential sentries that would alert the Covenant in the area. The freshly-made corpses of Grunts, Elites, and Jackals littered the mountainside, their purple blood dripped down the rocky, snow-peppered slope.
Two Elites, guarding a cave entrance near the peak of the mountain, slumped down as another sniper round entered one’s skull and into the other’s, as Ryne timely shot was able to get a two’fer. Cautiously marching upwards to the cave, Delsin and Giulia walked over the fresh Elite corpses and both Spartans approached the mountain cave’s entrance, reloading fresh magazines into their silenced weapons. As both Spartans prepared themselves to explore the tunnel, Giulia looked back in Ryne’s direction, tapping into her COM.
“Disciple Two, we’re heading into the tunnel, we’re gonna find out what the Covenant are building inside. Stay in position and provide overwatch over the cave entrance until we get back.”
“Copy, don’t take your sweet time.”
Both Delsin and Giulia slowly walked into the darkened tunnel, as Ryne watched them disappear into the darkness through his scope.
***
Crouching and creeping through the darkened and damp cave, following the trail of small, blue Covenant work lights that lit the rocky grounds, Giulia led Delsin along the narrow tunnel as they carefully moved past the Speleothem formations that were spread across the rocky walls. Both Spartans carefully walked down the tunnel, their silenced weapons ready and trying to be as light-footed as possible with their heavy, armored legs crunching the rocks and stone below their feet.
A few minutes into their trek, Giulia sees, from a distance, an opening leading into a small, cavernous area and spotted familiar indigo-colored Covenant crates and structures through that opening. As both Spartans reached this small clearing, they found a gathering of Covenant foot soldiers in this small section of this cave. Spread across the gray stalagmites and the flowstones scattered about, Elites worked the boxy Covenant comm nodes, Grunts sleeping, and Jackals walking about.
“Tangos up ahead - do not engage,” Giulia ordered in a low voice, as she and Delsin walked down a narrow path flanked by stalagmites, using them to cover their moments as they crouched and sidestepped the Covenant foot soldiers. Three red dots popped in and slowly approached the duo on Giulia’s motion tracker in the heads-up display of her helmet. 
“Patrol coming our way - go left, quickly! Let them pass.”
Giulia and Delsin jumped to their left, taking cover behind a pair of Covenant crates. Both watched as three blue-armored Elites, armed with their distinctive plasma rifle, walked right by them and into the tunnel that they just walked through. 
“Easy now ... .Tangos everywhere. Hold your fire and stay low.”
With the path clear, Giulia and Delsin got back on the path through the cave, sidestepping the gathering of Covenant soldiers as they walked past unsuspecting Elites and sleeping Grunts, using the stalagmites, flowstones, and columns to keep themselves in the shadows and from being seen.
As they made their way out of the cave, the Spartans walked towards a natural, rocky platform, where a lone Elite, with his distinctive cobalt-colored combat harness, stood with a plasma rifle in hand. Giulia stopped and stuck her hand out in fist, signaling Delsin to hold his position. She quietly slid her SMG onto her thigh, and slowly made her way to the unsuspecting alien. 
“This one’s mine.”
Emerging from the shadows and creeping towards the Elite, Giulia leaped onto its back, her hands placed around the Elite’s head and, in one swift move, snapped its neck. Delsin could hear the violent crack from behind the wa, making him slightly wince at the sound. The Elite fell to its knees, and Giulia gently shoved the fallen warrior over the platform
Delsin followed behind her, as both Spartans walked onto the edge of the stone overlook, and got a better view of a larger cavern. Purplish bridges, platforms, and walkways stretched throughout the cavern, with Elites and Grunts walking around, carrying construction material. Circular, blue constructs with steel wiring that stuck out like tentacles were stuck on the rock walls. Covenant soldiers popped in and out of teleporters on the balcony above, carrying whatever materials they had in their clutches. 
Judging by the steel, indigo-colored tubes already built in the cave and spotting the familiar workings of the water pump through an indigo entranceway built into the cave, Giulia was able to piece together what this place was.
“Hydro-processing facility, to make fuel for their fusion reactors. Looks like it’s been operational for a bit, which explains why Covenant starships keep stopping by here.”
“You know what this place is?” Delsin asked in a low voice.
“Ryne and I have blown up these facilities before, but nothing as a big as this.” Giulia then gestured to Delsin’s left thigh that was holding a six-pack set of C-12 explosives on his waist.
“Ah, so that’s the plan.”
“Good to see that you're paying attention, Del.” 
The Spartans leaped off the stoney overlook, and landed on a lower bridge below them. They sprinted into a nearby entranceway at the left end of the bridge, hoping to avoid being spotted from any sentries. Entering what looked to be some kind of Control room and immediately taking cover behind a Comm Node, Giulia and Delsin scanned the room: seeing Elites walking around or manning panels and nodes, while a few careless Grunts standing around the room, awaiting orders from their slit-jaw superiors. More Elites were spotted on the balcony above, their guard down and unaware of any kind of intruders in their midst. 
“Alright, let’s find the Pump room, and place our C-12 there. You with me, Del?”
“Always.”
Both Spartans carefully navigated the room, taking down the Covenant soldiers by placing a few bullets into the domes of Elites and stabbing the oblivious Grunts in their way. Watching Giulia operate was a fun experience for Delsin, seeing her flow through the room like a panther, stalking her way through the room and taking down any unsuspecting prey with some well-placed single shots from her M7 or a simple jab from her combat knife.
Delsin only tried to keep up with her, trying to not burden her with mistakes as he shadowed her movements closely and watched her take down any sentries in their way with ease. He wasn’t surprised at her skill, knowing how she led her fireteam in the training preserve back on Onyx, how she manhandled each trainee she spared during CQC training, and how she ended up being among the top of the Beta Company and then transferred to special ops.
“Way outta my league here. I’ve gotta raise my game, big time.”
After scaling a ladder in the Control room, now littered with dead Covies, both Delsin and Giulia ran across the rafters above, bypassing Grunts and Elites walking the hallway below. Within seconds, the Spartans reached the pump room: a chamber filled with a maze of large, tubular pipes filled with water. It was oddly empty, no workers, no guards, not even a sleeping Grunt.
“We’re here. Hand me a blow pack,” Giulia asked. Sliding his AR on his back, Delsin grabbed a duct-taped set of four 4x4x4 inch C-12 cube charges. Giulia snatched them quickly, and leaped down into the chamber, with Delsin following her down.
Inside the purple, circular chamber, where large, tubular, indigo-colored pipes covered the walls of the room and some kind of panel at it the center, Delsin began placing his C-12 blow pack along a pipe, while Giulia worked on her own pack, jamming it between a large set of purple pipes on the other end of the chamber. C-12 explosives, simply dubbed “nasty stuff” by Delsin’s trainer on Reach, were going to, not just destroy the pump room, but possibly collapse the entire cave onto itself and take out the entire Covenant facility, considering that each C-12 cube had enough explosive material to level a five-story building in seconds.
“Gotta be like several miles away before we blow this” Delsin worried, as he carefully but firmly put the damage pack on the pipe, making sure the adhesive strip on the back of the pack stuck. Once his explosives were placed, he turned to see Giulia still trying to firmly plan the explosive pack. He approached her, tapping her shoulder to get her attention. 
“I got this, Giulia, I think you should look for a way for us to get out of this-”
Giulia pushed Delsin to the side, as an energy dagger narrowly missed his head. The dagger violently crashed into a pipe, narrowly missing the explosive pack. An Elite Officer, donning a bronze orange ornamental combat harness, quickly pulled the energy wrist blade out of the pipe, water leaking from the puncture of pipe he striked. Giulia and Delsin raised their weapons ready to fire, but another pair of Elites jumped from a balcony above, landing behind Delsin
“Crap!”
Delsin turned and fired controlled , muffled bursts of his MA37 at the encroaching Elites, the bullets crashing into their shields. The Elites ignited their daggers and took swings at the blue-armored Spartan, who barely dodged their swipes. Delsin rolled out of the way, but now had two Elite officers charging at him.
“No!” Giulia yelled, seeing the Elites trying to overwhelm Delsin. Unsheathing her knife, Giulia dashed to the Elites surrounding Delsin, only for the Sangheili that ambushed them to jump in front of her and slash at her. Giulia leaped back, and looked upon the split-jaw Elite, flexing its mandibles as it readied its charge. 
“Outta my goddamn way!”
Lowering into a stance and her knife at the ready, Giulia launched herself at the Elite officer, who took another swipe at the Spartan, who ducked while taking a slash at the officer’s leg. Giulia spun around for a quick stab, desperate to end the duel quickly, only for the Elite to block the strike with his arm and counter with his own thrust with his dagger. It narrowly missed her throat, as she bobbed her head at the last second. 
“Damnit!”
Normally, Giulia would have dispatched her foe with ease. However, seeing Delsin, her only friend left from Beta Company, in danger made her panicked and angry. She became emotional and sloppy, focusing on ending the fight quickly to get to Del, instead of properly dissecting her foe like she had done many times before..
The bronze-armored Elite lunged forward, launching another strike at the Spartan. Giula ducked under, but the Elite reacted quickly. The officer took a swipe with his dagger, slashing the back of Giulia’s armor. 
“Agh!”
Giulia tumbled forward, hearing the incessant beeping in her helmet, signaling her shields were down. On her knees, Giulia turned to see the Sangheili Officer standing over. She could hear the arrogant bastard chuckle, already claiming victory. Giulia readied her knife, waiting for the Elite to strike so she could shove her steel dagger into its throat. 
It was a risk, opening herself to a fatal blow just to land her own stab, but she needed to end this quickly and get to Del. 
“C’mon, you ugly bastard, show me-”
Suddenly, the Elite’s feet left the steel floor, as blue-armored arms wrapped it’s waist and lifted him off the ground. The surprised Elite officer was launched backwards by the belly-to-back suplex, as Delsin released him mid arch and flung him backwards. A surprised Giulia froze in spot, not noticing her shields recharging as Delsin approached and leaned down to her level.
“You okay, Jules?! You hit?!”
A stunned Giulia was confused by what just happened, seeing someone lift an Elite with such strength, let alone someone like Delsin. Giulia looked over his shoulder, only to see the two other Elites that had Delsin cornered, stumbling around half dazed and their shields flickering.
“What in the f-, Did he just-, How?!”
Delsin turned around, seeing the two bronze-armored Elites he knocked silly stumble around, and the one he just threw on his knees, clutching the back of his neck and bent over. They were on the backfoot now, and a window of opportunity was wide open for Delsin. He was not going to waste it.
Delsin ran forward and, using the back of the kneeling Sangheili, flipped over and launched himself at one of the other bumbling Elites, turning the alien inside out with a vicious swinging strike with his arm and falling face first with the now-unconscious alien. Delsin quickly got up, just in time to notice the other Elite had gained his bearings and swung at him with a wrist dagger. Delsin quickly reacted and grabbed the arm, pulling the Elite down to the floor with him. The Spartan, laid on the alien’s back, hooked and pulled back on the arm, wrenching back until he heard the slight “pop” and the Elite growling in pain, as it clutched the arm close as soon as the Spartan released his grip. Seeing the still-conscious Elite Officer on his knees and looking up at the Spartan in angry defiance, Delsin ran and leaped toward the Sangheili, throwing one knee forward to strike the split-jaws of the alien warrior. A loud crack could be heard on collision, as the Elite fell back and laid motionless.
Giulia was in awe, seeing Delsin stand over the defeated Elite warriors triumphantly. Behind her gold visor, she couldn’t help but smile like an excited kid at a toy store. She had never seen such a fighting style before, it was like grappling and some weird-looking striking had an ugly, but freakishly-strong child. It wasn’t pretty, but it was sure as hell effective. 
“Where was this on Currahee?!?!”
After picking up his discarded MA37 from the floor and sliding on his back, Delsin approached Giulia, sticking his hand out for Giulia to clasp, which she did and stood up before her teammate. Giulia noticed that Delsin was scanning her body, up and down, looking for something. 
“You ain’t hurt? I saw that slash that split-jawed bastard gave. Dammit, I should’ve been more focused and not let them get the drop on us. Almost got you killed because-”
“Stop. You made a mistake, and you corrected it tenfold. No point in beating yourself up about it now.”
As both Spartans turned around, they spotted an orange-armored Grunt standing at the open entranceway, shaking and clearly terrified. It likely had watched the entire fight. Both Spartans and the Grunt stared at each for a few, awkward seconds.
“Demons! Humans! Runaway!” The Grunt screamed and cried through its methane mask, fleeing through the entranceway/ Both Spartans watched the Grunt run in terror, screaming bloody murder. Giulia sighed, realizing that now every Covie within earshot was about to come their way.
“...and we were doing so well.”
***
Ryne, still looking through his scope, had grown bored admiring his handiwork. He had picked off every Elite, Jackal, and Grunt roaming the mountainside, even picking off an Elite patrol that wandered out of the cave entrance. It had been twenty-or-so minutes since Giulia and that blue-armored loser went into the cavern, and has only been staring at a desolate mountain camp with nothing to shred.
“Maybe I could stretch a bit here, my body feels stiff…” 
Ryne stopped looking through his scope, gently setting his Sniper rifle as he twisted his back and cranked his neck, hearing the popping noises from his joints and bones. Suddenly, the COM lit up with an alarmed tone from Lieutenant Harlow’s all-too-familiar and all-too-annoying voice.
“Disciple Two, how to copy?”
“Disciple Two here, go ahead, actually.”
“Our scans are picking up Covenant activity has ticked up, and troops and ships heading to your location. What happened?”
Ryne visibly reacted at this development, unsure what she meant with that question as he sat more upright and his brows furrowed. “Nothing Actual, I’ve been staring at a mountainside filled with dead Covies, waiting for One and Three to show-” 
“Well, whatever you screwed up, the Covies now know we’re here. I’m calling it now, Raptor Four-Six-Niner is on his way to extract you three, be ready at–” 
The COM line was suddenly interrupted by a familiar female voice, frantic and grunting as gunfire and plasma fire rang in the background.
“Disciple Two! We are coming out, and we’re bringing some company. Cover us!”
Ryne got back on his Sniper rifle, peering through his scope as he found the Cave entrance. It was still dark, with a brief glimpse of a Covenant work light shining through. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but things were quiet still. 
“Covenant activity? Company? What the hell happened?”
Seconds later, out of the darkness, Ryne finally got eyes on his teammates, running out of the cave entrance as plasma bolts flew by them. He sighed at the sight, slightly shaking his head, as he scoped in at the now-raging battle taking place on the lightly-snow covered mountain side
“Of course, those idiots would mess this up…”
Ryne fired off successive shots, nailing two Elites in the skulls and doming two Grunts with one and a Jackal with his last shot. He watched Giulia and Delsin climb down, taking turns on giving cover fire and retreating down the mountain. He could see Giulia had procured a Covie plasma rifle, as Delsin continued to utilize his MA37. While reloading his next magazine, Harlow came back on the COM, now addressing all three Spartans.
“Yankee is on his way to Disciple Two’s position, ETA is twenty mikes. So, get your asses on the bay quickly when he shows. We’ve got an entire army of Covenant troops, Ghosts, Wraiths, and a goddamn Corvette bearing down on you three, and they’ll be there in minutes.
“Copy! We’ll be there,” Giulia responded, as Ryne watched her firing her plasma rifle, as Delsin leaped down across the rocky terrain, with a few plasma bolts clashing on his shielded armor. With his rifle now loaded, Ryne fired again at the incoming Covenant warriors storming down the mountain side as they gave chase to Disciple One and Three.
Ryne ejected the magazine, shoving another in its place and smoothly pulling back on the handle. Through his scope, he noticed something coming over and around the peak of the mountain, a few more Covenant warriors appeared, followed by pairs of Ghosts that were now rumbling down the mountain.
Ryne was annoyed, but there was at least one thing that came out of this screw-up. One single thought popped into his head, as he trained his sight on the Ghost rumbling down the mountain, firing off the shot that crashed into Grunt’s methane mask and its body falling out of the vehicle.
“At least, I’ve got more aliens to kill.”
***
Tripping over protruding rocks on the surface, Delsin tumbled down the mountain, quickly recovering and taking cover behind a low ditch at the base of the mountain. Turning to see a line of tree and shrubs on a flatland within his sight behind him, Delsin figured they were near the base of the mountain and the hilltop where Ryne was firing was only a few meters away. Delsin looked back up, and saw Giulia hiding behind a boulder, a plasma rifle and her silenced pistol in each hand. Elites, Jackals and Grunts marched down the mountain, firing their weapons at the retreating Spartans. Delsin could see a few rifle rounds burst the skulls of Elite and Jackals that were closer to Giulia.
Delsin fired controlled bursts of his MA37, now down to only a couple of magazines, as his cover fire and Ryne’s sniper fire forced the Covenant to take cover behind boulders and ditches to avoid their gunfire. Giulia quickly sprinted down, joining Delsin in the ditch. “Having fun?” Giulia cheekily asked, firing a few plasma shots up the mountainside.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Both Spartans looked back up, seeing Covenant reinforcements rushing down the mountain. Elites galloping with their plasma rifles and energy swords, and Ghosts rumbling down the rocky terrain while firing their plasma cannons, they looked determined to get to the Spartans. Plasma bolts crashed and flew around the Spartans.
“This is Yankee Four Six Niner, approaching the extraction point. Disciple, what's your status?”, a male voice popped in through the COM. Both Delsin and Giulia turned back to the hilltop nearby, seeking the silhouette of a Pelican approaching Ryne’s position, descending onto the hilltop. “We’re at the base of the mountain, Yankee. Give us a ten mikes–”
“Negative, Disciple One. Covies are swarming our position in the valley. Picking up Two and comin’ to you.”
“The area is hot, Yankee! You’ll come under heavy fire if-”
“Shut up, and get ready. Yankee, I’m on board. Go!” Ryne;s cold voice interrupted Delsin’s warning, clearly ticked off by the harsh tone in his words. Giulia watched Delsin’s shoulders slump in resignation, as he turned his focus back at the Covenant and fired on the approaching aliens. Giulia’s fears were confirmed by this exchange; Ryne had a problem with Delsin, she just wasn’t sure what that problem was. 
***
Hanging off the edge of the bay, Ryne, with his Battle rifle ready, watched as the Pelican flew over the snowy forestlands, as the ship raced to the mountain base. Behind him, a pair of SWSG operators, donned in olive-colored tactical gear and armed with VK78 commando rifles, sat in the bay. The dropship quickly slowed, and turned its belly, as the snowy flat plains came into view, and Ryne spotted Delsin and Giulia firing and taking cover in a ditch, as Covenant warriors fired and approached their positions. Joined by the operators, Ryne aimed and fired his BR55 battle rifle, firing three-round bursts at the Grunts and Jackals nearing the ditch while the two other troopers sprayed their ARs into the Covenant forces.
“Get in!” the dropship pilot yelled over the radio. 
Both Spartans in the ditch turned to see the rear of the Pelican slowly descending to their position, seeing Ryne and two other troopers laying down cover fire. “I’ll cover you, go!” Delsin stated, as he loaded another mag into his MA37 rifle. Giulia nodded and ran out of the ditch, galloping across the grasslands to Yankee Four Six Niner, as the dropship hovered over the grasslands. As the armored boots clanged on the steel surface as she jumped up onto the bay, Giulia was handed a Battle rifle by Ryne, as he then went and grabbed his Sniper rifle from the overhead netting. 
“I’m in! Get in Del! We’ll cover you!” Giulia barked, joining the support troopers in their cover fire as she fired Ryne’s battle rifle into the swarm of Covenant foot soldiers racing down the mountainside. Sitting nervously in the cockpit as he waited for the last Spartan to get in, Flight Officer Captain Rehl noticed a blue flaming ball of plasma fly out of the dense tree and hurling towards the dropship. 
“Shit!” Rehl quickly jerked the side-stick to the left, as the Pelican swung to its left to avoid the plasma mortar. With the dropship flying left, it threw the Spartans and the SWSG troopers off-balance and flung them to the side, crashing hard into the seats. Delsin watched the Pelican dropship swing away from him, and a blue ball of plasma mortar flying to him.
“Oh, c’mon!”
Delsin dived out of the way, narrowly missing the blast that turned the ditch into a crater, but the splash damage knocked his shields out for a moment. After racing into a nearby treeline for cover, Delsin looked up to see a flurry of plasma mortars flying towards Yankee 469, as the dropships flung and swung around trying to avoid the incoming fire. The Covenant ground troops also turned their focus on the Pelican, as plasma bolts from plasma rifles and pistols flew in its direction.
“We’ve got Wraiths in the trees and ground troops firing at us! I can’t get closer!” Rehl yelled over the COM, still trying to avoid the incoming fire, as his copilot, Guynemer, fired the autocannons in the general direction of where the Wraith mortars were fired from, unsure he was hitting anything.
“Yankee, aerial scans got a Corvette and a flight of bogeys, probably Banshees, heading your way and fast! Harlow’s voice boomed over the COM chatter. Ryne, finally able to regain his bearings as the Pelican swayed and weaved the Covenant fire, looked back down and saw a blue-armored figure taking cover behind a treeline, firing bursts from Assault rifle. He saw Elites, Jackals, and Grunts marching through the flatlands, approaching the Spartan and the dropship. 
On instinct, the words blurted from Ryne’s mouth into the radio: “Yankee take off now!”
“No! Delsin is still down there.” Giulia interrupted, as she stood up in the bay and helped the other troopers up. The Pelican swayed again to its right, avoiding another Wraith mortar round and nearly throwing the passengers off the bay. “Take off Yank–” Ryne yelled, before Giulia grabbed and pulled his shoulder in his direction. 
“Del is still down there!”
“It’s either him or us! We go down there or stay here arguing, we are going to get blown apart! Do you want that?”
“Yankee, just lower yourself, let Del-”
Rehl immediately interrupted Giulia before she could finish the order. “Ma’am, that makes us an easier target for the Wraiths and the Covies on the ground. No one can do it!” The Pelican swayed once again, the Spartans and operators holding on to the seats and handles for dear life. Ryne lost his grip on his Sniper rifle, watching it tumble out of the bay. Ryne crawled and stumbled into the cockpit with the pilots, looking out the cockpit window of the incoming plasma mortars.
“Yankee, take off now! Before we all end-”
“No! He can make it! We can make it!” Giulia screamed over the radio.
“Are you stupid or something”
I’m not losing him! Not again!”
“We’ll all die, you moron!”
Laid back behind the tree, hearing the frantic radio chatter and watching the Pelican desperately flail around as plasma bolts peppered the hull, Delsin took out the small, gray, blocky detonator hanging off his thigh. The detonator for the C-12 packs, now held tight in his right hand. He was hoping to detonate it at a safer distance, but now seemed like it would be only his chance to do it.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Ready to join the afterlife, Del?” asked Eris, as Delsin turned to see a figure in SPI armored looking back at him. “It’s the only way,” she reaffirmed in a soft voice. Delsin looked at the detonator, and squeezed the trigger as tight as he could. 
After a few seconds, a loud rumble could be faintly heard, as Covenant ground troops sensed the ground shake slightly beneath their feet as they moved forward. From a distance, Delsin looked up in the direction of the cave that led into the Covenant facility, but didn’t see anything. Then, all of sudden, just above the cave, the rocky terrain of the snowy mountain bursted into smoke and a giant mass of snowy, rocky debris slid down the slope, the mountainside completely giving way and the rocks and debris washing over the purple-canopied huts, comm nodes, and storage cases that rested on the slope. 
A landslide.
 The mass of snow and rocks consumed the startled Covenant troops and the Ghosts on the mountainside, disappearing in a smoke of white and black. Elites, Jackals, and Grunts tried to flee only to be drowned in rock, dirt, mud, and snow. Delsin watched with widened eyes, as the mountainside disintegrated.
“Yankee, leave!”
“Ryne, you are not in charge here! I’m-”
“Holy shit!” remarked one of the troopers, who was gazing out of the bay. Both Spartans stopped arguing and turned to see a massive landslide on the mountain, consuming the Covenant aliens like a hungry beast. Rehl noticed the Wraiths had ceased firing, becoming confused as to the sudden stoppage. Oblivious of the coming landslide occurring behind him, Captain Rehl watched the silhouettes of blue-shaded Wraiths retreating out of the forest, as if something had scared them off.
As Delsin emerged from the treeline, he realized the landslide was much larger than he expected and could consume the entire base of the mountain. “Uh, Yankee, now would be a very good time to pick me up!” Delsin chimed over the COM. He watched as the Pelican descended and hovered over the plains, and the blue-armored Spartan quickly jumped into the darkened bay, his armored feet banged on the steel floor to signal his arrival. 
“He’s aboard! Go!” Giulia ordered, seeing a Delsin take a seat next to the SWSG troopers, Ryne became quiet as he took his seat, with Giulia taking a spot next to him. As the Pelican’s engines rumbled, Delsin and Ryne sat across each other, their visors staring right at each other. Looking on, Giulia knew there was going to be fallout to this situation.
“The debrief is gonna suuuuck...”
The Pelican dropship closed the bay doors, as it shot up into the sky, with landslides consuming the plains and forest below them. Rehl pushed the thrusters of the Pelican, getting ready to break the atmosphere to reach the Ares Vallis, hidden near a moon in the system.
“Zero Point, we’re enroute, Disciple is onboard, ready the bay for us.”
“Copy Yankee Four Six Nine, standing by for your arrival. Hope the flight was easygoing.”
“Oh yeah, a regular walk-in-the-park.”
“Bee-Two-Four-Zero’s incompetence nearly got the whole team killed, and put himself in the situation of being left behind, ma’am.”
“I didn’t mess up anything, prick. They got the drop on us, that’s it.”
“Oh, so you didn’t blow our cover and alert the entire Covenant army on that planet to our presence? I’m just imagining things?”
“Kiss my ass, it’s not an excuse for you to just leave me to die.”
“It was either us or you, and I’m not about to die for someone like you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Enough!” Harlow screamed, standing in the conference room within the Prowler’s conference room in her gray officer’s uniform, with the helmetless Giulia, Delsin, and Ryne, their Mark IV [B] armor suits scuffed by scratches and dirt, standing at attention before her in the middle of the room. The Lieutenant Commander was wired, working off three cups of black coffee, as she tried to assess what happened on the mission. Harlow could feel a migraine was coming on, and she was not in the mood for a shouting match.
It had been several hours since the op on Akila, as the Prowler had already escaped the system, slipping past a Covenant patrol that was on alert looking for human ships. Giving the Spartans some time to catch their brief after their close-call on the planet, she expected the Spartans to have calmed themselves by the time of debrief.
Clearly, that didn’t work.
“Ma’am, we just got caught, simple as. It won’t happen again,” Giulia bluntly stated, her voice coming across as a soothing melody to Harlow’s ears, amidst all the arguing.
“Not while that liability is here,” Ryne snapped. Delsin turned and tried to get in Ryne’s face before Giulia grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.
“Lock it the fuck down, both of you!” Harlow ordered. The Spartans retreated to attention, as Harlow leaned on the rectangular brown conference table behind her, gathering her thoughts as she tried to figure out how to close the debrief.
“A lot of errors were made on this op, and not just by you three. Shit went sideways, and we didn’t get to hit all of our targets. We’ll learn from this, and move on.” Harlow pushed herself off the desk, and paced around the Spartans at attention.” That being said, the mission was still a success. Taking out some Covenant supply posts, inflicting mass casualties, and blowing up a Hydro-processing facility is definitely a job well done. Not to mention, you all came back alive. I’ll take this outcome any day of the week.” 
Harlow looked at her newest team before, coming to two conclusions: this team needs a lot of work, but they have a lot of promise. She approached the table, where a datapad and a cup of joe sat idle.She took a sip from her cup, relishing the taste. She turned to face Disciple, with a tired, exasperated look on her face.
“Right now, I’ve got a meeting with the brass in a few minutes. So, take a walk, relax, and try not to kill each other while I’m on call and get our next taskings.” Harlow peeked back at the Holotank that sat in the middle of the table, where Commander Stenbeck was going to appear anytime now. Harlow wondered how she was going to spin this; the mission was a success, but the AAG was going to expect more from her and this team, especially since they didn’t hit all their targets.
“Dismissed.”
The Spartans turned and walked out of the conference room and into the stainless-steel, white halls of the crew deck. The metal slid shut, with all three Spartans walking down the corridor. Ryne peeked over his shoulder, seeing a clearly-upset Delsin and a worried Giulia at the rear. He shook his head towards his quarters.
“Just so you know, if you ever screw up like that again,” Ryne spit, taking a left turn towards the Crew’s quarters. “I will personally make sure you don’t come back on this ship.”
“Sonuva-” Delsin reached out to grab Ryne’s shoulder and spin him around, but Giulia stopped him just before the hands touched. Ryne continued to walk into the left corridor, his black armor clashing with the white walls. Within seconds, the Alpha Company Spartan entered his quarters, disappearing from his teammate’s view when the door slid shut behind him.
Delsin looked back to Giulia, her green-armored hand holding his shoulder as she moved in front of his path to prevent her Beta Company brethren from continued pursuit.
“Don’t, it’s not worth it.” Giulia looked into Del’s eyes, seeing those once-cheery eyes filled with anger, but also sadness. No doubt that what happened with TORPEDO still weighed heavily on his mind. She wanted to talk about what happened on the Pegasi Delta with Del, but, clearly, now was not the time for it. As she briefly stood there with Del, an idea popped into her head, and a smile flashed on her face.
“Why are you smiling?” Delsin asked, seeing the grin on his team leader.
“C’mon, follow me!” Giulia grabbed Delsin’s hand and dragged across the hall as they walked to the elevator shaft, as she pressed a button that would take them down to the Mission Preparation Hold. Delsin looked confusingly at Giulia, trying to piece together what she was up to.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, something I’ve just wanted to do for a very long time.”
***
Delsin walked along the steel corridors of the Zero Point, brushing past some ship crew and a few SWSG operatives while following Giulia to whatever place she was taking him. He was too pissed to wonder what Disciple One was up to. He was more interested in pummeling Ryne into the dirt. Never in his life had Delsin come across an asshole so callous and arrogant. He was nearly left behind because of him, and Ryne was already trying to throw him under the bus for some reason. 
“Where does he get off? That prick tried to leave me behind! Who does that asshole think he is?”
Delsin was so heated; he had not noticed that he and Giulia had walked past double, metal sliding that opened for them. Snapped from his anger, Delsin found himself in the middle of a large, barren, brightly lit arena, quickly realizing that he was in one of the training arenas that Point-Blank class prowler usually houses. He turned back to see Giulia, who was stretching her arms and side-lunging her legs in a stretch. 
Now, Delsin was no longer heated. He was confused.
“Uhhhh, Jules, what’s going on here?’ asked Delsin, also taking his helmet off as he sat it down on the cold, steel floor of the training zone. Giulia looked back at him, giving a mischievous grin as she craned her neck to loosen the stiffness.“Judging by all the cursing you were doing in the halls a few minutes ago, you’re very pissed at Ryne, which I don't blame ya for since he’s an asshole. So, I found a way for you to let off some steam. As a team, we cannot have you carrying bad blood over some unresolved crap into our missions. Plus, I’ve been looking for a training buddy, since no one wants to humor me these days.”
“Uhhhh, training partner?” Delsin asked again. 
Giulia smiled, as she swiftly unleashed a fury of jabs and high kicks before delivering a spin kick to finish off her demonstration. She then moved into fighting position, her hands in fists as she put up her guard, and stuck out one finger to motion for Delsin to engage.
“More like Sparring partner, to be exact.”
Delsin, suddenly alarmed, slowly motioned back and put his arms up in surrender. “Whoa, Whoa, hold on. No, not happening. I am not fighting you. I have seen how you take down those Covies, hell; you were scary even then during training. Besides, why is Ryne not here? He is the one that should get his ass beaten”.
Giulia relaxed her stance and sighed; peeved that Delsin was incredibly hesitant to accept her challenge. “First off, Ryne is not interested in training or mingling with anyone. Trust me I’ve tried. I’ll deal with him soon enough. Also, don’t sell yourself short. I saw how tough you are back at Onyx, and the way you took down those Elites back at Akila was impressive. There is no way I am not missing this opportunity to face someone who can put up a legit challenge.”
Delsin, with a conflicted look in his eyes, stood there silently in the middle of the cargo bay with his hands on his hips, running through his options. “Oh relax; this is just some friendly sparring. We are not actually going to hurt each other…much,” Giulia exclaimed, as she began to get back into position. She could tell from Delsin’s body language that he was hesitant, as his eyes shifted around, was not on his guard, and was looking around for something. “C’mon, please, don’t deny a girl her wish!”
Delsin rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air in resignation.
‘’Fine, you win. I guess some light sparring wouldn’t hurt.” 
“Pfff, Sure, “light” sparring.”
Giulia rushed an unprepared Delsin, and threw a right jab in the direction of her teammate’s head. Delsin, noticing the incoming punch, quickly dodged, ducking under her jab and moved behind her. Giulia followed with a back kick, which forced Delsin to jump back to avoid impact. Before he could even utter a “Wait!”, Giulia quickly dashed up to him and threw a roundhouse kick. With little time to dodge, Delsin put his right arm up to block the kick, the impact reverbing through his whole arm. Delsin could see Giuilia smiling as she quickly backed off and returned to her fighting stance, and she began to bounce around him, probing for an opening. Now, with his guard up, Delsin realized he was now locked into this “sparring match”. 
‘’Really? I would have settled for who could do more push-ups,’’ Delsin thought to himself, as he then tried to assemble a plan of defense for himself before she resumed her next move. He recalled Sylvia’s advice back on Curdan’s Keep, her words echoing when she taught him her CQC techniques in the woodlands.
“Don’t force an opening, be patient and wait for one to open up you.” 
Giulia charged at Delsin, winding up for a palm strike. Delsin swiped to the side, as her hand grazed his cheek. Delsin then shoulder pushed her back, to find some breathing room. However, Giulia threw a spinning heel kick in response, which Delsin narrowly ducked down to end up behind her. 
An opening.
On instinct, Delsin ran to Giulia as she turned around, and used his whole forearm to strike her face, forcing Giulia to the ground.
“Oh god, I am so sorry. I did not mea—“
Hanging her head, Giulia got up on one knee, shaking the cobwebs from her head, and balled her hands into fists. She slowly got up, and Delsin looked into her face to check for injury caused by his vicious forearm strike.
Instead, the dark-blue armored Spartan saw something worse.
Giulia, with a tiny speck of blood on her bottom lip, had a grin on her face, as she rubbed the blood off her lip. She looked at her thumb, seeing the red droplet. The smile got even more pronounced. The helmetless Spartan then shifted into a new fighting stance, her fists now turned into knife hands, her stance widened by her legs, and her eyes focused on Delsin. She screamed some kind of battle cry that reviberated the arena. 
“Finally! A legit challenge! You know how long it's been since someone actually could stand toe-to-toe with me?! C’mon, show me what you got, and don’t you dare hold anything back!”
Giulia nched forward towards his mildly terrified teammate. Delsin had only one thought, one regret, as he quickly put his guard up as a frenzied Giulia, with an impish smirk, launched another jumping kick towards his face.
‘’I should’ve just let her hit me, and faked a KO...’’
=== Chapter 18 ===
Category:Stories