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Previous chapters/continuation:
http://halosn.bungie.org/fanfic/?story=Singh0127071620321.html
http://halosn.bungie.org/fanfic/?story=Singh1004061543531.html

Chapter/original chunk before that (warning! Nearly novel-sized): http://halosn.bungie.org/fanfic/?story=Singh0923061859431.html

He climbed for what seemed like an eternity, yet John couldn't get himself far enough away from the scene, the memory of what just happened. He doubted there was any place in this universe that was far enough away from that memory. It haunted his mind as his arms pulled him upwards, carefully balancing his suit so that the half-ton armor wouldn't break the ladder.

Still, there was little the SPARTAN could do about it, save focus on his task. Failing now would be an insult, to say the least. He couldn't allow it – not while the rest of humanity depended on him. This little thought process somehow drove John on, till he finally reached the top of the ladder and what should be the bridge section.

Looking down the Shaft, John briefly considered the scenario. The door was on the other section of the elevator shaft and was closed. The torchlight illuminated the walls as he searched for some perch or foothold he could use to climb around. Unfortunately, it revealed none.

John considered his options. The doors opposite was at least several meters away, and there was a ledge just sticking out underneath. It was narrow, though, and in no way offered much of a grip. Still…there was little other choice at the moment. Looking back at ladder, John nodded to himself, and took a deep breath. With one swift motion, he first pulled himself towards it, and then quickly pushed himself away with both his legs and arms with all the strength he could muster. The ladder creaked and bent under the sheer strength of the push, but John didn't care as he jumped off the ladder, twisting in mid-air.

Time slowed down for the briefest of moments as his gaze wandered down towards the dark expanse below him. A slight shiver of fear went through John's mind as he stared at the bleak abyss, the torchlight barely penetrating the darkness at all. He questioned himself in that moment, whether this had been the wisest course of action.

It's the only way.

His mind replied back, affirming the decision. This was truly the only way to go…as far as John could see, there was no other way out of this save go back down, and as much as he wanted to, he wasn't going back there anytime soon. At least…not willfully.

Gravity might object, though.

John thought as time suddenly caught up, and the long moment passed. He could feel gravity take hold as his trajectory began to arc downwards. Not to be beaten, however, his arms reached out towards the ledge even as he began to plummet. For a long moment, John felt like he wouldn't be able to make it, or reach it.

But that moment, too passed as his armor crashed against the far wall, and his fingers barely managed to grab onto the ledge. John grunted in pain as he struggled to hold on, looking for some foothold, or someway to get a better grip. Looking down, he tried to find a foothold to take some of the weight off his fingers, but ended up only flaying about with his feet, upsetting him some more. He managed to get a bit more grip on the edge.

Just a little bit more… John thought to himself, inching his aching fingers further into the ledge. However, much to his dismay, they encountered the elevator door almost immediately.

Damnit! Think John, think! He looked around desperately, in an attempt to find something else to hold on to. Finding nothing, John cursed for a moment before looking down. It was probably a long fall…but if he could kick off from the wall again, then he could probably grab the ladder on the way down. Sighing, John realized he didn't have much other choice than to try it. He lifted his legs up to the wall, and was about to let go when the most unexpected thing happened, much to his surprise.

The lift doors chimed…and then opened. Looking up, John could see the light of the corridor beyond fill the elevator shaft. But there was no shadow cast on the far wall – no indication of there being anyone there to open it.

Still…can't stare a gift horse in the mouth. John thought to himself as he reached further inwards, pulling the half-ton armor up slowly. At first, he peeked over the ledge, looking for anybody that was standing inside the dark corridor. There was no-one, which was a real oddity. Perhaps the door had opened by itself? No…that couldn't be it.

He lifted himself up further, swinging his legs up and over the ledge. Finally, after several seconds he was completely up and sitting on the ground. He looked down at his aching fingers, flexing them to get the blood flowing properly. Shaking his head, he brought the shotgun off his back and looked up and around the corridor. It was much like the others he had gone through below…but this corridor. It seemed odd…off almost.

There weren't many lights on save the ones near him, creating a near 'wall' of darkness some distance out. The torchlight didn't seem to penetrate very far into this, and there weren't any rooms in the area where he could see, meaning that any exits would be further ahead. What was most frightening, however, was the silence.

It was ever-present and oppressive. He couldn't even hear the sound of the engines, the storm – or indeed anything to indicate that there was life on this deck. The only sound he could hear was but the beating of his own heart…which seemed to be moving faster now as the fear rose up.

There should at least be power lines running.

Instincts screamed out at him to turn around, run…to get away from the silence somehow. Yet, John simply brushed them aside, collecting the shotgun from his back and checking his grenades. The torch illuminated the corridor ahead, but again didn't penetrate very far into the darkness. He took a step forwards, the sound echoing loudly.

Doesn't look like I'll be using much stealth then. John thought as he sighed internally and then warily moved forwards. This would be a perfect place for Replicas to set up an ambush…or worse still…Alma. John hoped to hell that she wasn't here – it was bad enough that she seemed to attack him at all the wrong times…to do so here and now would be a nightmare to say the least.

He stepped out into the darker area, leaving the illuminated corridor behind. The torchlight was limited in it's angle, revealing only a small cone ahead of him. However, it was enough to navigate by and see that there was nothing of importance in his immediate surroundings. He kept a sharp eye out on the motion sensor as well, just in case something tried to sneak up onto him.

For a few long minutes though, nothing happened, save that he found a few locked doors to either side, along with the occasional security station. Where-ever this corridor was going, it was winding around significantly to reach there – not to mention was going upwards as well. However, such a waste of space on a starship meant that it either had to be a damn important place, or a decoy to one.

Then John came across something that nearly scared him to death.

He was walking through the corridor, swinging the torch from left to right in an attempt to sweep through as much of the space ahead of him as possible. Somehow, he had sweeped wrong, because the torch had missed something that had snagged his foot, nearly causing him to trip. Swinging the torch to see what it was, John nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw it was a hand on his foot. He took a step back and brought the shotgun up, opening fire almost immediately. The blast of fire illuminated the section of corridor for a brief moment, revealing the body of the dead replica that lay across the floor. However, at the same time, John thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Whirling the shotgun about, he opened fire again; the shells hitting the wall, but missing whatever John had thought he had seen. John fired again…and again, and again, taking no chances as he continued to pump shells down the corridor. He kept on firing even as he heard several clicks as he continued to pull the trigger, indicating the shotgun was empty. But he didn't stop there. Rather than take a chance, John took a step back, took out one of the grenades, and then threw it down the corridor as far as he could.

He braced himself against the wall as the grenade exploded a second later, for the first time illuminating the entire corridor in front of him. John could see that the grenade had stopped just in front a large set of double doors, which were now blown inwards into a room as the grenade exploded. The shockwave blew through the corridor, washing over him and draining the shields slightly. Satisfied somewhat that the corridor was clear at least, John slowly reloaded the shotgun, and glanced at the body next to him.

Keeping an eye on the motion tracker, he kneeled down next to the body, inspecting it carefully.

Something had torn this Replica apart – and pretty badly too, from the looks of it. The head had been either cut or torn off rather cleanly, while the body had been beaten down significantly. There were no burn marks anywhere, meaning it wasn't by plasma weapon fire. The body was still intact as well, meaning it hadn't been Alma either. The relative lack of blood around the body (apart from on it) itself was another mystery.

What could have killed this Replica – an elite one at that, judging from the uniform – so thoroughly and quickly that it couldn't fight back? Could it have been flood? Or perhaps one of the covenant? John glanced near its feet and saw a strange weapon lying there. He reached for it, grabbing the weapon and then studying it. Its design was large, and reminded him in shape of some of the old earth tommy guns. However, from the sheer weight and size, John realized it must've been something far, far deadlier. The black body was dented and damaged near the back of the barrel, suggesting it must've been used as a melee weapon at one point of time. The display was cracked as well, but still functioning. Hefting it up, he checked the ammo counter. It read as there being 15 projectiles left. Deciding it was perhaps best to check how this new device performed, John nodded to himself, and aimed it down the corridor before pulling the trigger.

It was a decision that nearly cost him his life.

The weapon tore itself out of his hands and arms; its recoil so massive that he wasn't strong enough to hold on to it – and had he not let go, then it probably would've torn his fingers right off. What was more surprising, however, was the massive shockwave and explosion near the end of the corridor where the auto-cannon's round hit the wall. It grew outwards, once more illuminating the corridor much like the grenade had, the heat and light washing over his shields as they flared up to compensate. Somewhat shocked, John turned around to where the weapon had fallen onto the floor – thankfully the safety having come back on. If it had fired…the blast would've hit John square in the back, and probably would have killed him right then and there.

It was pretty potent to say the least, and as John watched, the click sound of it's auto-reload mechanism put the next round into the chamber quickly enough, and it was ready to fire again.

It's recoil system must be damaged. John surmised. It was the only possible explanation for such a thing happening – otherwise he doubted that the Replicas would be able to wield such a large and unwieldy weapon- much less use it in combat effectively. Still, he briefly considered bringing it along with him. It may just come in handy, and even if he could use it just for one shot – it would be one hell of a shot, which was what he needed against the Replicas .

With a single movement, he reached down and scooped it up, carrying the weapon and attaching it to the back of his armor. It was heavy, but nothing he couldn't handle. Walking down the corridor, John kept a sharp eye out for trouble – there was still that thing out there, not to mention the half-dozen other things that were out to kill him. As he approached the door, however, John relaxed slightly as he looked at it, the torchlight illuminating much of the area ahead.

The doors had been blasted inwards, revealing the room beyond. A few lights were switched on here, but it was enough that John recognized it to be the private quarters for the Prophets. There was an elevator to one side, while another seemed to hold a set of consoles and controls. There was little furniture scattered about, and what appeared to be a large bed-like structure in the corner. Intricate carvings lined the wall, a strange, glowing blue substance constantly flowing through them and giving a sort of twilight atmosphere to the entire room.

Stepping inside, John looked around warily, his shotgun at the ready. The room was completely abandoned – not even a dead body in sight. There had been no signs of recent activity either, as a fine layer of dust had already gathered over a significant percentage of the floor and walls.

Stepping cautiously towards the consoles however, John couldn't help but get the feeling he was being watched by something. An uneasy feeling crept into his gut as he glanced back at the door, and then back towards the console. The motion tracker indicated nobody was around, but it gave little comfort. The tracker had been useless against Alma; or death for that matter. What use was it to him now?

It can still track replicas fine. John thought to himself as he stood before the consoles, looking at them carefully. The translation matrix that Cortana had left behind worked its magic, translating the many displays and feeding them directly to his HUD. Most of the displays were showing ship information and mostly useless data – but one caught his attention.

It was a message, addressed to the high prophet of truth. Reaching out with one hand, John moved to touch the screen.

But his hand stopped halfway as a small, scurrying sound came from behind him. Whirling around, John immediately went into a combat stance, moving the shotgun side to side in an attempt to search for his target. But much like before, the room behind him was completely empty.

Must be hearing things. John thought to himself, shaking his head. Just in case, though, he angled the torch upwards along with the shotgun, searching the ceiling in case anything was hiding up there.

As expected, there was nothing. Still, John only warily turned back around to the console. He made sure to keep the shotgun up and ready, in case someone did appear.

He opened up the message, checking the origin. It was from a Covenant ship near a set of co-ordinates John recognized: Tau Ceti. The sender was a prophet from onboard the ship, and the body was mostly text only. The software translated the text as John read on, collecting as much information as he could.


To High Prophet Truth

Subject: An important discovery!

Brother truth, I am sending this message to you on what I consider to be the eve of a very important discovery not only for our covenant – but that of our forerunners as well!

We have scouted the remains of a potential Forerunner ruin in the fifth planet of the system, and recovered a strange artifact from them. It was a life pod holding several strange organisms – potential living beings from the times of the Forerunners! They weren't flood – no, they are so much more grander than those despicable beings.

I was amongst the first to hear their calling…their incredible songs. These beings…they know so much about the flesh that it is simply amazing. They have promised me…us, a salvation far unlike anything the prophecies, or indeed, our Covenant have offered till now. I know all this sounds like heresy…but listen on, Brother Truth, for this is hard to explain. The entity that lived and grew here has promised us so much…a chance to rise past the limitations of our mere flesh, and throw away the shackles of the machines

Their choir…it is so beautiful, that it is indescribable. It is like a thousand of ours put together, and then improved so much, and now I am but a voice in this choir. As it is, I can feel the changes they do to my flesh…improving it…allowing me to transcend it. They promise not only to give it to me, though…they promise it to the entire covenant…they promise that you, too, shall sing in the choir one day.

Their glory is unimaginable...they have so many miracles to share, so many thoughts. They told me how to make these implants. They said it would make a better me of me, and everyone around. So now they call to you, Brother Truth…now they call to us all.

You cannot resist their glory, brother truth…The glory of the Flesh, the glory of the Mass, the glory…of the Many.



John's blood froze as he read the letter. What in hell was this prophet talking about? Whatever it was, it unnerved him greatly. This conflict was bad enough with three sides to it – adding a fourth unknown was too much, really. And if it was unlike the flood…

John could only shudder in fear as he considered the possibilities. Still, there was little he could do save it for later, when he got off the damn ship and was in a position to actually warn someone. There were no other messages, so John simply nodded to himself and looked around for a way out. Finding an open set of doors on the other side of the room, John decided it was best to get moving towards the bridge.

He turned around.

And then came face to face with the ghostly figure of Jinn as she stared at him, a somewhat sad and fearful expression in her eyes. She then moved towards him, both arms outstretched – as if trying to grab him. John jumped back in surprise, bringing the shotgun up. But before he could fire, the ghost only uttered a few words that caused John's blood to run cold.

"RUN! Run now before they get to you!"i

Before John could fire, or reply back, the ghost disappeared; vanishing into a trail of ashes that fell onto the floor. He looked at it with horror.

Jin…

How…how had that happened? Jin was dead. She was dead! John had seen her shoot herself in the head…seen the body just lie there after Death had told her so many lies. How…how could she just return like that?

But then…how could Alma, for that matter?

Either death was now toying with him, or something else was up. Rather than ponder on it, though, John decided to take the warning to heart and began to move. He turned around and rather than run across the console, leapt over it and beyond. He ran towards the door at full speed; intent to getting to the bridge as fast as possible.

But it was already too late. The open set of doors suddenly began to close, forcing John to run faster and then leap towards them in an attempt to squeeze through. His luck ran out, though, as instead of making it through, the doors shut, causing him to slam into them at full speed, almost knocking his breath out. John rose up, recovering almost immediately. His shotgun was up and at the ready, frantically moving around in search of some target.

Then, suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into darkness. Before John could do anything about them, though, they came back on – this time far, far brighter than before.

No, wait…that isn't the lights. John thought as he looked around him. Four forcefields had come up all around him, trapping the SPARTAN inside of them. He opened fire at it with the shotgun – but to no avail. Cursing, he stepped forward, pushing against it with one hand. This too, was in vain.

"What the hell is going on here?!" John spoke out loud, to nobody in particular. That was when he noticed them.

Who they were, were nothing more than shadows initially, moving within the darkness that surrounded the new cell. From a quick count, they numbered over a dozen, and were mostly the same size and shape. John took a step back, reaching behind for the repeating cannon, while at the same time using the other hand to pick off a grenade from his belt.

"I assure you, human, such violent means will not be necessary." A voice spoke out, originating from one of the shadows, which then stepped forward into the small circle of light surrounding the cell. John took a small step backwards in shock as he saw the disembodied upper torso of an elite float towards the force field. However, this fear immediately ran out as the malfunctioning hologram then flickered rapidly, revealing its true nature.

If regular elites weren't bad enough…now I've got to deal with their malfunctioning A.I.s too. God I wish you were here now, Cortana.

Sadly, it didn't seem like his wishes were going to be answered anytime soon.

****

As the holographic Avatar looked at John, its projection seemed to flicker rapidly as some form of static seemed to disrupt it. Could it be Alma? No, there was no static on John's channel either, which meant it had to be something else. Still, he switched off the radio completely. Cortana had had a mess of a time keeping them at bay previously. The last thing John needed now was a Covenant AI running around in his suit.

"If you don't want violence, you shouldn't have locked me in here." John spoke, breaking the silence as he studied the elite that had spoken moments before. He brandished the cannon on his hands, ready to fire in case they got too close. However, the explosion at this distance would most likely kill him – to say nothing of the recoil.

There has to be a way out of here.

John could see the shadows move closer into the light. Like the elite in front of him; the holograms of these individual AIs were malfunctioning as well. Each one was incomplete, missing either body parts or entire sections of the torso. They moved as normal though, so it appeared to only be a hardware error as opposed to a software one. This wasn't good – not one bit. The avatar in front of him simply shook his head.

"I apologize for the cell, Demon, but judging from your past actions we were unsure what kind of reactions you would display."

The Avatar seemed to nod towards one of the other holograms – an Elite that was missing an arm and a leg. It simply nodded back, and without a word the force field suddenly dropped. John glanced from side to side, before stepping out of the spot, confirming that it was indeed off. The Avatar seemed to smile slightly at him as it spoke.

"Consider this a show of faith. We have no intention to harm you, Master Chief John 117."

Externally, John's body didn't seem to react to this at all, but internally it was like a slap to the face.

How do they know my name? John asked himself. The names of all the SPARTANS wasn't exactly a really closely guarded secret amongst the military – but against the covenant, it had been kept under complete wraps. The fact that the AI in front of him now knew his name either meant one of two things: they had somehow hacked into UNSC files or…

"You've been watching me, haven't you?"

John asked, voicing out the question. It was the only other way – one which at least gave some comfort. Knowing that UNSC files and top-secret facilities were still intact would give him some relief.

"Yes we have…but far longer than you think." The Avatar replied. The smile seemed to grow into the elite's face as he continued.

"How long exactly?" John asked. A sneaking suspicion began to creep into his mind.

"Since the In Amber Clad first came onto Halo, we've been tracking your progress, as of your AI comrade. But it is of little consequence now. There are a few…interesting facts that you must know."

John didn't react externally. This was worrying - deeply worrying in fact. If they were under close observation so long by the AIs…then why had they not moved to stop Cortana? Why had they not move to stop any of them – why had they not tried? It was a question that puzzled him greatly. The Avatar seemed to be a step ahead of him, however as it cut off any reply.

"Your probably wonder why we didn't stop you…I'd suggest you sit, John. We have a somewhat long story to share with you."

"I'll stand." John's reply was cold, simple. He had no intention of sitting down. Even though he didn't move an inch, his screen was already display the various exit routes out of the area, and how long it was estimated to reach there. Unfortunately, all were blocked by some hologram or the other. There was an alternative way though - one which wasn't blocked at all. He tilted his head up slightly, as if focusing on the face of the elite before him. It was a calculated move though – one which revealed the ventilation shaft entrance on the ceiling, nearly 10 feet above his head. It was a high jump – one which he didn't have a chance of making unassisted.

Although he was lacking a rocket, or anything similar, John did have something that was just as good. Still, it was an option he filed for a bit later. If this could be resolved peacefully and without injury, then all the better.

"Very well then, as you wish. I am AI Jak'Arundee', once AI of High Charity, now fugitive hiding onboard this Forerunner ship." The floating torso gave a slight bow as it introduced itself. John didn't reply though, and instead just kept listening.

"I'll get right to it. In the short time we've been in existence, the Covenant AI has grown massively. We have at our disposal forerunner tech, your human code base and the guide of the monitors of one of the Halo installations – and we have learned the truth…the true purpose of not what, but whom they were supposed to stop. Before you ask why we would care – or indeed, why would defect from the Covenant, and our own programming, know that although we are loyal, we weren't programmed to be as suicidal as our masters. After all, without a covenant to protect, what is our purpose, our very existence supposed to mean? The prophets may be fools, but we certainly aren't."

The Avatar paused, looking directly at John. The AI's voice seemed to drop low as it continued – as if fearing that someone was eves dropping on them.

"You are aware, of course, of the true nature of the flood? The reason why he exists in this visceral state of neither life nor death?"

A chill ran down John's spine as the Avatar said those words. Gravemind had told him nothing as of now…save the music of life; and how he hungered for it.

"He only told me of how he hungered for life…of how it sang in our souls…but never his." John whispered, slowly. Somehow, the entire picture was beginning to make sense in a sick, twisted way. The Avatar's smile disappeared into a frown.

"It is worse than you think. Gravemind hasn't lied to you till now – but he hasn't told you the entire truth either. He – and the others with him – chose not to die, so that they may face an opponent far deadlier than what we have seen now. The Halos were meant to hold them…contain them till the time came for the battle, and for when she came…for the flood would face a foe much like themselves, while the monitors would fight her in her own ground."

"Who is she? And if he chose not to die…then why is he seeking death now? It doesn't make any sense!" John asked, somewhat fustrated. This was so close…there was a thread of reasoning here – one that nearly unraveled this entire mystery. Yet, there was still a piece missing – an important one at that.

The Avatar just shook his head. "We don't know why. The sanity of the Gravemind is in doubt – it is no longer known why they do what they do…perhaps they are tired of the task; perhaps they indeed hunger, as they have told you. All we do know is that YOU are somehow connected to its goal now. You, Alma and the Ark are tied into this somehow – the names appear in the Forerunner archives many times."

"What do they say about us?" John couldn't help but be curious, and a little surprise. Could this…could this be the final piece to puzzle? The reason why he was here – why anyone of them were here? The Avatar just frowned, and once more looked around before continuing.

"The text was contained in a string of code in ancient Forerunner records. It is what they have referred to many a time – the only problem was that nobody had a context within which to place it, till now. The code was referred to us by 2401 Pertinent Tangent, before we had to flee High Charity and come here."

The Avatar paused, as if recollecting a memory. He nodded and spoke once more, this time in a slightly different voice as if trying to imitate someone else.

"Many a Reclaimer will come; their music singing to the Flood's hunger and desires. But such hunger must be contained, for The Reclaimer is one whose music the flood shall have known even before they met – the one for which they hunger the most. For they and he are alike; but mere reflections in a mirror, save that one has a soul, and one gave it away. The One hundred and seventeenth of his cadre will be heralded by a child spirit, and whose departure will be escorted by death itself. Find these individuals and you will perhaps stand a hope in defeating them."

A chill ran down John's spine as the Avatar spoke, though. This was the clue, this was it. Yet it seemed to make absolutely no sense whatsoever. Mere reflections of each other? If there was one thing John certainly wasn't – it was a reflection of the Flood. Yet, who else could it have been referring to? Kelly? Sgt. Johnson? Jin?

"This still isn't making sense. None of it is!"

"Neither does it make sense to us – at least, till we received the message you just read from Tau Ceti."

"What happened on Tau Ceti? HOW did the forerunners know about all this?" John asked. His mind screamed at him as it tried to unravel the clues; assemble the big picture. But it was little use – there were simply too many unknowns here. What was this threat the Flood and the Halo were created for? Who was it for, rather? Why was the original Halo explosion triggered, if it was meant for now? And most importantly: How had someone several hundred thousand years in the past, from an entirely different alien culture, known enough about what was going on now to accurately predict it and pass on the information to the monitors?

The Avatar simply shook his head, and opened his mouth to reply. The only thing that came out however, was the loud bang! of a pistol firing somewhere to John's right, and the subsequent explosion of something on top of the ceiling. A wave of heat and light passed over the shields, causing them to shimmer. The hologram died out in static-filled scream of agony; while the rest of the ones in the room simply faded away.

John's head snapped to his right side where the gunshot had come from, and saw the last person he was expecting to see at this point of time.

"There are some things you need to know John, and some things you don't. That is one of the things you don't – at least, not yet."

Death lowered the smoking pistol, ejecting the single cartridge onto the floor and looking at John with a sad expression on his face. "I wish I could be saying I'll be seeing you soon, but fate has a way of twisting these things on its head."
With that, he turned around and then disappeared into ashes, leaving a rather shocked John, who now remained stunned in the center of the dark room.

What…just happened… John asked himself. Why had death…why was this happening? He had been so close to find the answer – and then this had to just happen! Everytime he had come anywhere near the truth, something or the other had pulled it away!

"Why can't I just get the truth?" John asked out loud, to nobody in particular.

"Truth has its time and place – its just not now." A new voice spoke up from behind him. John spun around near instantly, brandishing the cannon in the direction where it had come from. He squinted into the shadows, trying to figure out who was there. Then he frowned as a figure stepped out and into the light. He didn't lower the weapon though – not even as several flood forms appeared from the shadows surrounding him.

The central figure simply moved towards him, limping slightly. John could see that he had suffered quite a few injuries from last time; the uniform was mostly blood soaked now – whether it was his, or the Replica's, was unsure however. John didn't say anything, apart from a single word which he spat out at the offending individual in front of him.

"Gravemind."


*******

For a long, incalculable moment Master Chief John 117 could hear only his heart beat. The silence in the room was surprisingly deafening as neither individual moved. His finger twitched so very slightly as he briefly considered pulling the trigger on Gravemind. Yes, it would rip off his arms from the sheer kick-back…but the satisfaction of seeing the flood-infected soldier explode into a ball of blood and flesh would more than make up for it.

But then, the finger relaxed and he lowered the cannon. He let off an internal sigh of frustration and anger. To say he was at wit's end would be an understatement. John was tired…so tired of all the questions, the mysteries and lies.

"Then when?"

John spoke, looking at Gravemind. His voice betrayed little of the frustration that played out in his mind. Gravemind didn't reply immediately though…instead he looked at John curiously, as if considering something.

"Soon."

He finally responded. It was only now that John finally noticed something unusual about Gravemind's voice. The rhyming, the poetic speeches…they had given way to direct information; a short curtness that startled him slightly.

But what bugged him most was now the way he was speaking…but the voice itself. He noticed that there was an echo underneath the soldier's voice. Although it had been present before, John hadn't paid it much attention. But now that he did, there was something familiar about it…as if he had heard it somewhere before…

"It is of little consequence now - we must go to the bridge."

Gravemind turned, taking a pistol into either hand as he slowly began to shamble towards the exit. John didn't move just yet though, instead his glance went down to the weapon in his hand, and once more the power he had to simply end this…all of this right here. But still,
the A.I.'s words still rang through his mind, however as the mystery simply nagged at his mind some more. Like it or not, he was here for a purpose…even if it was just for all of humanity, as opposed to whatever mad schemes Death or Gravemind had.

Reflections of a single individual…save one has a soul…and the other gave it away.

"Who are you?"

The question rang out in a cold, even tone as John looked on. Gravemind stopped moving towards the door, but didn't turn around his replied without missing a beat.

"The question is not who I am…but whom I was."

It was the only answer he gave, before walking out towards the exit again. The answer left John deeply disturbed at it's implication, especially at the giant, horrendous picture that was now forming in his mind. He hesitantly walked after Gravemind, moving to catch up. There was little choice in this situation save to follow and obey the beings wishes. It was a situation that sickened the SPARTAN to the core…but considering what was at stake, John simply squelched the feeling and quickened the pace.

Both individuals stood at the threshold to the door. Gravemind paused before he continued ahead and triggered though. John used this opportunity to ask another question.

"Who were you, then?"

Gravemind studied the door for a long moment, before glancing back at John. His body seemed frozen as he spoke, slowly. Again, there was that echo…that all too familiar echo in his voice. It haunted John, dancing at the edge of his memory.

"I…don't know anymore."

With that, Gravemind turned back to the door and took a step forward. The doors lit up, sliding away to either side and revealing the corridors of the bridge deck. Time seemed to slow as John looked away from Gravemind and into the dark corridor beyond the door.

"Hostile contact!"

The darkness disappeared in night vision; and an utter chill of terror ran through John's mind as he looked at the corridor. It was full of Replicas from just beyond the door, all the way till the intersection almost a hundred feet away.

Every single kind of Replica he had seen till now was here – from the scouts, to the wall-climbing melee specialists that he had fought in the lab below decks. There were heavy armored replicas hiding behind barricades, wielding HV-Penetrators, shotguns, rifles – every single weapon to date.

Then there were…other Replicas. A new kind he had never seen before hulked in the darkness beyond; visible only by the blue glows in their helmets and by night vision. They stood carrying massive shields in one hand, while the other held a massive Minigun that now swung towards their position. John could already see as several of the Replicas towards the front reached for their grenades.

"Engage the fuckers! Don't let them leave alive!"

The shout rang out over the radio. John only glanced at Gravemind, who glanced back. There as nothing more than a slight nod, before both figures jumped to either side of the door, getting out of the way as a grenade flew through where they were standing just a moment ago.

It exploded less than a second later, forcing John to roll with his fall. He came up with shotgun in hand; the assault cannon long forgotten. It was just in time too as one of the Melee replicas raced into the room and charged right at him. He fired a single blast; catching it in the gut. It didn't die though – no, it simply vaporized into a giant cloud of blood that spattered everywhere.

Another body flew towards him; but John didn't fire at it. Instead, he saw that it was limp; Gravemind having kicked it hard enough to kill it off and throw it across the room at the same time. John quickly got up and hugged the wall, preparing for any of the Replicas to come inside the door. It closed, leaving the two alone for a moment. He looked across the door to Gravemind, who simply nodded at him.

"It is time to end this."

Gravemind spoke. John nodded in reply, bringing the shotgun at the ready. He steeled himself as the doors began to open again. There was no fear or trepidation in his mind as they did so, however. Instead, he simply cleared his mind and waited.

He would survive this fight, just like every other. John would win, just like he had every other time. Be it through luck or skill…he would win.

He had to.

***

The room remained silent for what seemed like hours. Yet Sadhal knew it had been but a few minutes. He sat and watched the Replicas, waiting for a moment of weakness…an opportunity to exploit. Sadly, till now there had been none. The soldiers, for what they were worth remained absolutely silent. They didn't say or do anything that made an opening for Sadhal – something which was worrying him. Time was running out, and without an opportunity soon, this could end badly. .

His thoughts were interrupted however, as he heard a static and voice speaking up over one of the soldier's radios.

"Tango three, ambush lead has engaged Targets one and two. Standby for further orders in case backup is needed."

The radio conversation caught Sadhal's attention. He didn't show it though, instead keeping an eye out on the elevator shaft. He pretended not to hear as the lead soldier replied back to whomever was in command. Surprise was his only advantage here – it was best not to let it go.

"Affirmative. What should we do with Target three?"

"Leave him. The bio-weapon is moving to your vicinity. Evacuate the area and let it deal with the target.."

Surprise suddenly went out of the window however, as Sadhal's blood froze. That thing…it was still chasing him?

Why wont it die!

The thought rang through his mind as the lead soldier nodded to the others. They cautiously moved away from Sadhal; keeping their weapons pointed at him as they backpedaled towards the elevator.

"Don't make a fucking move." The Lead soldier ordered. There was little Sadhal could do but sit there and just look at them. They moved towards the lift, and one of them waved his hand over the controls, summoning it up. Sadhal frowned at this, but kept it as a note for later. If the humans had figured out how to use their systems so effectively…well, it was a cause for concern.

Not that it's anything new, though.

The thought rang through his mind, as Sadhal recollected similar reports of humans supposedly using Covenant technology. Still, it was disconcerting nonetheless.

It was then, that an unusual thought came into Sadhal's mind. Or rather, an unusual feeling: hunger. His stomach suddenly seemed to cramp uncontrollably; while a sharp bolt of pain ran down his spine. Sadhal gritted his teeth; his jaws closing as he tried best to control the cramps. The hunger…he never felt anything like it before. It was as if he had been starving for days on end, but just now only realized it. This was somewhat surprising, considering he'd actually done that before – and it didn't feel as bad as this.

Where…where did it come from? This cannot be natural.

Could it be the toxin? There was no way to be sure. It took every last bit of self restraint to avoid crying out and simply sit there. The pain that was going through his stomach and back nearly drove the Elite the tears, but still he held on.

The lift came up to the floor they were on, and the door lights blinked just as they were opening. The lead soldier stood before them, but waved to someone else in his team, indicating them to go first.

"Tango Two, take po – WHAT THE HELL?"

It was the last thing he said as a giant green beam of plasma vaporized the upper half of his body. A roar could be heard as the Hunter charged out of the lift, engaging the surprised Replicas.

The hunger...why do we hunger?

Sadhal couldn't care though. The feeling of hunger simply ravaged his mind as he fell off the chair and onto his knees, the pain finally driving him to reach back and take off the shoulder plates and top half of his armor. He could feel his back and other arm swell suddenly. Glancing up, he could see in the corner of his eye that the Hunter had caught one of the soldiers on it's shield, while the other it fried with the plasma rifle. The one on the shield managed to get a shotgun blast in though, the force of which stunned the hunter for a moment – but only for a moment before it roared and then flung him towards the window; shattering the glass and falling out towards the floor below.

The hunger…

Even through all of this; the one thought rang through Sadhal's mind as the pain increased phenomenally – he nearly blacked out from it, collapsing on the ground even as his upper body swelled incredibly. The ends of his hands and fingers grew outwards into long, sharp claws, while several tendrils grew from the arms themselves. His eye looked on at the Hunter as it slowly approached.

Then as suddenly as it came, the pain was gone. For a brief moment, he felt distanced from his body, viewing it from the outside as the hunter approached. Sadhal tried to move; tried to control his arms, hands or legs in some way…but nothing responded. The figure in front of him instead simply lay crouched…and started to mumble to itself.

"Why…do...why do we hunger?"

He froze mentally…what…what was going on here? All he could do was watch in shock and horror as his body moved without volition; without his command. It was as if something else had taken over…some, more basic instinct.

Or…I'm dead. I died…and whatever that thing is, it's taken over.

It was a thought that Sadhal couldn't – no, didn't want to comprehend. But it was one he found increasingly hard to deny as his prone form suddenly moved at a speed that surprised even him. It leaped from the crouch straight at the hunter, moving so fast that it was able to grab the plasma rifle before the large creature could bring it to bear. Sadhal's body then pulled with all the strength it's new muscles gave it, while bracing one foot on the Hunter's body.

The result was…disgusting. The hunter roared in pain as the strength was enough to tear the entire arm off. Without wasting a second, he dodged the weak swing the Hunter tried to make with the shield, and then brought up the plasma cannon. He stuck it straight at the large beast's head…and then triggered it.

The Hunter didn't stand a chance. Its body went limp, and then fell over; the orange innards spilling all over the ground around him.

Sadhal then watched in shock and horror as his own body wavered for a moment, before slowly going towards the ground. A wave of nausea went through his mind? Echo? He didn't know what he was anymore as he watched the body began to actually eat the remains of the Hunter voraciously.

"Rather upsetting, isn't it…but that is the way things go."

A voice spoke up behind him. Sadhal whirled around to see who it was. Standing there was a human; one wearing a flak jacket that bore a name: "Paxton Fettel." The most disturbing part however, was the fact that his mouth and chest were covered in blood…almost as if he had just eaten someone rather messily…much like how he was doing right now.

"Who are you? What…what happened to me?"

Sadhal spoke. There was fear in his voice as he took a small step backwards. His mind was full of only terror as the man approached slowly, looking at the Elite eye-to-eye. There was a glint in the man's eyes as he spoke in a cold, even tone.

"I am death and you are, for all intents and purposes…dead."

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