Chapter Text
Prologue
Checkpoint Omega: Lone Wolf
The spartan wearily sheathed the now stained blade into the chest holster with a firm click. A silvery visor reflected the Field Marshal who met an unfortunate end, crossing paths with the last of Noble Team. He sighed, and processed the dead elite for another weapon, one more back up before the next wave arrived. He picked up the Elite’s plasma rifle and the energy blade hilt. Spartan B-312 stowed the hilt in the back pouch he had on his armor. In his hands, the alien weapon was uncomfortable in the strained and sore grip of his palm.
He paused as he saw the Cloaking device on the Elite. The one it used to sneak up on him while he left the Shipyard. The ONI-issued Mjolnir Armor he wore was semi-compatible with certain Covenant Equipment. He replaced the Drop Shield Module currently equipped on his back with the Covenant Cloaking device. He knew that it was leagues better than anything ONI had tried to reverse-engineer from recovered modules.
He gazed at the embering skies above, to where great plumes of ash mixed with the glow of beams. Covenant Cruisers glassed the dying remnants of Planet Reach. . . He did all he could during the waning hours the planet had left for it. Under Catherine Halsey’s orders, he had successfully delivered the AI to the UNSC Pillar of Autumn. Successfully he had shot down a Covenant Cruiser to let the Autumn escape into Orbit.
Now fighting for himself, and himself alone, he was determined to use his skills to take as many Covenant Troops with him into the howling dark as he could. A Lone Wolf who knew its end was near. Nothing left to lose, no orders left to fulfill. His silver visor lowered, his heart blazed. He continued to walk toward the overrun Outpost near Omega Team’s last known location.
As he descended the last slopes of the last hills, he stared upon the ruined and charred remains of Omega Site. Even from here he could spot the dead spartans. Spartan III’s just like himself. Some whose armor he recognized, some whose names flowed over his lips in a solemn prayer. Soon, up close, he stared at the deceased. Laid about were their weapons and other gear and equipment. The venerable MA-37 Assault Rifles littered the ground alongside their wielders, casings and blood and breached Mjolnir everywhere.
Noble Six discarded the empty M45E on his back in favor for the Assault Rifles since the shotgun had run dry. Picking up the MA-37, he collected the mags from the three others nearby. The Rifle Six picked up had a mere 12 rounds. He looked towards the turret emplacements, then out toward the cruisers which loomed overhead in the distance.
He looked back down to the fallen Spartans, and looked for any additional mags on any of them. There was a single Mag left on a Spartan wearing Commando Armor. Brushing against the Spartan reactivated the transponder module on their helmet. Pausing for a moment, Six continued to retrieve the magazine and observed it. He sighed, knowing that the Covenant were now coming back to Omega Site to investigate the signal. Nowhere to run, no place safe enough to hide.
Six sighed, and resigned to his fate. “No more running, Noble.” He made peace with his life he had lived. He walked with the four mags in tow to the ruined structure with the Turrets that adorned it. He found a folding stool there, and sat down on it. He retrieved the magazines and recounted his ammo, restocking magazines with the others. Six Found two more Spartans dead on the platform, and glanced at them.
A Rifleman and a Demolition Spartan. Damaged and plasma burned grenades and a horribly bent M6V Spartan Laser. In the poor Spartan’s hands was the back half of a Grenade Launcher. The Rifleman had a seemingly functional SRS-99 Sniper Rifle, but the receiver was bent. Clutched in the Spartans hands was another MA-37. The counter was irreversibly broken, mostly crushed by the sheer weight of the Mjolnir armor situated above it, but also from a chunk of shrapnel lodged in the middle of the unit.
The Magazine was barely intact, it might never feed again, but the ammo slid out just fine enough. There were inevitably rounds stuck at the bottom of the magazine that he couldn’t get out due to the damage, but he would take all the ammo out that he could. It was just enough to cap off the fourth magazine he had. He seated the newly filled magazine back into his Assault Rifle he procured, and with a firm click, it positively and fed the rifle up to standard.
He checked his sidearm, he only had the Mag in the gun and the mag in the pouch behind the pistol. He had a full magazine according to his HUD, and the magazine behind his pistol was full too. He looked over his armor, the Tac Pad Kat regularly toyed with. Then looked over at the last member of Noble Team he saw die. To Emile’s Kukri and the Security shoulder it was mounted to. He wanted to reach for Jorge’s Dog Tags and see them one last time.
That was until he noticed a Fallen Spartan with a UNSC Hologram Module. Combined with Active Camo, he could easily use these two in conjunction to take out many covenant forces before his inevitable fall. He walked over and placed a hand on the Spartan. With a half nod, he recovered the module and looked at it in his hand. The yellow glow from it illuminated his silver visor, and made it shine a brilliant golden hue. He placed the module in the open large pouch on the center of his chest.
A deep sigh escaped him as he stood up, looking over the bodies of the many fallen spartans of Omega Team. He stowed the Assault Rifle on his back with a firm click of Magnetic locks. He checked the TacPad on his forearm. Planet Reach, August 30, 2552. 10:27 AM. He turned around and began to walk back to the ruined position. He wanted to check the turrets for the amount of ammo still left in them.
Flashes of his memories since coming to Reach began to play in his mind. ‘I’m Carter, Noble Team’s leader. That’s Kat, Noble 2, Emile and Jorge, 4 and 5. You’re riding with me, Noble 6.’ he reminisced, taking the first step up, ‘-Just one thing, I’ve seen your file. Even the parts of it that the ONI sensors didn’t want me to. Glad to have your skill set. -But we’re a team. That ‘Lone Wolf’ stuff stays behind. . Clear?’ Carter ordered him.
More flashes came as the Glassing Beams broke through the dust and the embering skies. ‘Beautiful, ain’t it? Someone should take a picture. . Nice work by the way.’ Jorge echoed to Six. ‘Listen, Reach has been good to me. Time’s come to return the favor. -don’t deny me this. . . Tell them to make it count.’ He uttered to Six. ‘Keep those. . He gave them to you. I’ll honor him my own way.’ Emile remarked as he brandished his Kukri.
‘First glassing? Me too. . .’ Kat remarked to him, before he flinched at rehearing the Needle Rifle shot again. ‘I got the mass. . . You’re on your own noble, Carter out.’ The screams of the Scarab still fresh in his mind. ‘Who’s next?’ Emile remarked before having an energy blade shoved through his back. ‘I’m ready!! How ‘bout you?!’ the silence and impact left in his mind as he watched the glassing beams fade out.
He had the instinct to look toward a crossroads not too far away from the tower. Where the pipeline was broken and the ground looked untouched. It granted him a premonition, a gut feeling in his stomach that tore him inside out. It unsettled the Spartan, a flash in his mind… the sigh and then gunfire from the AR he had on his back, before falling upon the Magnum pistol at his side. Like an out-of-body experience, he watched his own downfall play before his eyes.
Six looked down and smirked, since he had nothing else for him. He was going to die, it felt unfair to him at this moment. “Well Doctor. . . Let’s hope that the AI I delivered was the hope Humanity needed. . I did all I could for it. . .” he said aloud, “A bit unfair, isn’t it, Jun?” he called out, raising his head to the burning skies over Reach. He looked back down to Kat’s TacPad.
Planet Reach, August 30, 2552.
11:10 Hours
Ship-Breaking Yards of Azod
He started to manually update his mission log, and tapped the TacPad. He felt like it was the last time he’d ever use it. ‘Mission Objective: . .’ He paused for a moment, should he set it to kill as many Covenant forces as he could? Defend the Omega Team rally point? . . He settled on the Objective, and finally typed it in. He corrected the words that would be displayed on his HUD. . . There’ll be another time.
Mission Updated
Current Objective: Survive
His objective marker updated on his visor as he looked up to that spot of his visor. In a ping of his Motion Tracker, a white dot appeared behind him, his eyes snapped to the contact on the motion tracker before he turned while moving the Plasma Rifle to face the direction. Time seemed to slow and Six’s instincts went into overdrive, feeling that the first wave had arrived to finally come and try to kill this Lone Wolf.
Squeezing the alien trigger, he raised his Plasma Rifle to meet an Elite’s Headline. The Spartan’s weary gaze was met not by an elite, but a tear in reality itself. He stared at the eyes he saw, they too stared back. An effeminate arm quickly lunged out and pulled him into the void, the force alone throwing him from his feet and forcing the Plasma Rifle out of his hands as he was flung. It was like he had left his Sabre at Anchor 9, he was free floating in what felt like zero-gravity. He was not falling but he wasn’t rising either. He was moving in a straight line from where he was thrown from.
The entry closed rapidly, he looked around in the void but there was nothing that was discernible within it, just endless eyes staring back at him. His compass was going haywire, and he frantically squirmed around, trying to get some kind of control over his motion or even just his body positioning. With his years of Sabre Pilot Training, he was able to reorient himself to stop flipping, or at least he thought he stopped flipping, he didn’t even feel inertia within the void.
His motion tracker was tracking movement all around him, like he was moving in a sea of eyes. Each eye he saw moved around him and gave way, forming a path in what felt like in front of him, rather where he was headed. “Lieutenant… You are the endling of a team most honorable… But I have need of you. Until the time comes, I shall allow you to complete your objective. What happens after, well it is your choice.” a disembodied female voice echoed through the void. Six strained his head, trying to identify its origin.
“I shall watch you with great interest. -And one last thing, behave yourself. Because your common sense lies to you here.” she finished. As silence fell upon him again, he stopped trying to identify the source. It had returned to silence in the void. There was, however, a clearing in the Motion Tracker that he was slowly floating towards. He looked up from his position, he quickly realized that though he did in fact stop himself from flipping, he was still spinning. He approached what looked to be an opening similar to the one he was pulled through.
He was flung from the opening to open skies, and began an ill-fated descent, maybe upwards of hundreds of meters off of the ground. With air friction and actual inertia back, he stopped his spin and oriented himself with his back towards the ground. He grabbed the AR and brought it in front of him as he angled his body to better absorb the incoming impact.
He held on tightly to the AR before engaging both the Mjolnir Armor Lock System as well as Triggering Survival Mode for his own armor to give himself the best chance at living after this fall. The skies here were blue, and the air was clean. There were no cruisers in the sky, not even a space elevator. Six glanced quickly around himself to take it all in. He sighed, closing his eyes as the impact was imminent. His orange shields glowed brightly as it prepared itself for the same impact.